by Marja Mills
In the time I spent with the Lees, I was in the car for many of those drives. It was a privilege and a lot of fun. I remember the drive, early on, when I was in the backseat and Nelle was behind the wheel with Alice beside her. I realized they saw a different Monroe County out the windows than I did. They saw the stories behind the houses and buildings, the characters of another era who struggled and scraped by, who gossiped and worshipped, who married one another and buried one another, and who couldn’t have fathomed the changes that were to come in just a few generations.
It’s the old Monroeville—the old Maycomb—that lives on in the imaginations of so many readers. It’s the people and the places the Lees saw out the windows of the Buick all those years later. Nelle’s portrait of that community was so richly detailed, so specific and true to the small-town South during the Depression, that something universal emerged and, with it, the remarkably enduring popularity of the novel. And To Kill a Mockingbird remains one of the all-time great Southern stories. In Nelle—and in Alice—this land of stories and storytellers had produced two masters of the art.
All those years later, Nelle’s dark hair now white, her hands arthritic, her voice in To Kill a Mockingbird still could be heard on those Sunday drives, as she and Alice remembered a place that was.
The Lee sisters took me on extraordinary guided tours of a rapidly disappearing South. Alice often led the way as we explored the red dirt roads of the Lee sisters’ youth.
In a departure from her usual policy, Nelle Harper allowed the Chicago Tribune’s Terrence James to photograph her for my 2002 newspaper story. From The Chicago Tribune, September 13, 2002 © 2002 Chicago Tribune
Nelle enjoyed a good laugh at dinner with her sister, Alice, at Radley’s Deli (named for the reclusive Boo Radley of To Kill a Mockingbird). From The Chicago Tribune, September 13, 2002 © 2002 Chicago Tribune
Photographs of Alice and Nelle’s parents, A. C. and Frances Lee, hang in the entryway of their home; Methodist minister Tom Butts (right) has been a close friend of both Lee sisters for decades. From The Chicago Tribune, September 13, 2002 © 2002 Chicago Tribune
Nelle found another home when she moved to New York City in 1949, and she split time between the city and Monroeville for many years.
When Nelle was in New York, Julia Munnerlyn took her place driving Alice to the office and staying overnight in Nelle’s back bedroom.
The Lees’ dining room also served as storage for their many, many books.
The Lee house is several blocks from the town square and on a quiet street across from Nelle’s former high school.
Nelle told me that this home, on Claiborne Street, was the inspiration for Boo Radley’s house.
Tom and Nelle loved going fishing; reading widely and discussing history and religion; exploring the area; and swapping stories of colorful characters from 1930s Monroe and Conecuh counties. They also enjoyed exploring New York together on Tom’s regular visits there.
In May 1961, Nelle posed for Life magazine in the balcony of Monreville’s old courthouse. Donald Uhrbrock/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
As a young couple, Frances and A. C. Lee shared this house with the Barnett family, lifelong friends.
In this photo from 1961, the year she won the Pulitzer Prize, Nelle relaxed on the side porch of the Lee home on West Avenue. Donald Uhrbrock/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
Gregory Peck would win an Oscar for his iconic role as Atticus Finch; Nelle joined him on set of the film. © Bettman/Corbis
A letter from “the real Atticus Finch,” A. C. Lee, father of Nelle and Alice. The letter is addressed to his daughter-in-law, Sara Anne.
Acknowledgments
To Nelle Harper Lee and Alice Finch Lee my gratitude is immeasurable. This entire book acknowledges their remarkable friendship, extraordinary generosity with their time and insights, and patient participation in a long and evolving project. To be invited into their world is to be invited behind the curtain of Nelle’s beautiful and enduring novel. I am forever grateful for that privilege. Two such remarkable and different sisters would be hard to find. Despite a fifteen-year age difference, each was the expert on the other. It was fascinating to hear Nelle’s perspective on Alice and Alice’s on Nelle. More than that, to see how each crafted a life within certain limitations—Nelle’s retreat from the spotlight and Alice’s focus on their small hometown--was a lesson in living life on one’s own terms.
I am eternally thankful to Virginia Smith Younce, senior editor at The Penguin Press. As an exceptionally talented editor, a native of Macon, Georgia, and the daughter of a lawyer who bears no small resemblance to Atticus Finch, Ginny was uniquely suited to help me illuminate my experience in the South. Her artful editing and endless encouragement were essential in shaping this memoir. Ginny’s singular abilities were a gift to me, to readers, and, I believe, to those who live on these pages.
For all her stature in publishing, my first impression of Ann Godoff, president and editor in chief of The Penguin Press, was the mischievous glint in her eye when we discussed my book. It was intriguing and conveyed a playful appreciation of the material at the same time her broad vision for the book was clear. I am truly grateful for her belief in the book.
Publisher Scott Moyers’s steadfast support was hugely helpful and much appreciated. Associate publisher Tracy Locke has been a passionate and astute advocate for the book. I am also thankful for the support and dedicated work of Karen Mayer and Veronica Windholz.
Editorial assistant Sofia Ergas Groopman is a marvel of ingenuity and efficiency, all while managing multiple projects and offering unfailing enthusiasm.
My agent, Miriam Altshuler, has my heartfelt gratitude. For any writer, much less a first-time author, it is a dream to have an agent who combines outstanding business acumen and knowledge of publishing with an engaging personality and warm encouragement. She was my teacher as well as my representative in this process and I counted on her excellent guidance. As Miriam expertly shepherded this book to publication, I was reminded why she is held in high esteem by authors, editors, and publishers. I thank John Pelosi as well for his valuable wisdom and support.
As this work began to take shape, Cathy Furlani Schmitz, then Miriam’s assistant, was most helpful, as was Miriam’s current assistant, Reiko Davis.
To Tom Butts, the first person Nelle and Alice wanted me to meet, I am indebted beyond belief. His skills in navigating uncharted waters were priceless, as was the genuine friendship that resulted. As a minster and trusted friend to both Alice and Nelle, Tom’s frame of reference included both day-to-day interactions with them as well as a broader view of the town and the South. His early work with civil rights, his magnetism and erudition, and his guidance behind the scenes to half of Monroeville are hallmarks of his role in the lives of others. He is a book unto himself.
Tom’s wife, Hilda, added authentic caring and a delightful sense of humor. Our kitchen-table chats continue to this day.
Julia Munnerlyn, the mysterious presence in the kitchen my first time in the Lee home, was endlessly generous with her time, her friendship, visits to her church, and her recollections of a remarkable life. She mused about, and was amused by, the relationship between Alice and Nelle.
As Nelle and Alice’s only nephew in town, Ed Lee and his wife, Marianne, shared their unique perspective on the sisters and the extended family. Marianne’s effervescence was a boost to me and, especially, to Alice and Nelle, to the three exceptional daughters she and Ed raised, and to the Methodist church.
Sara Anne Curry offered a perspective only she could. As Nelle’s former classmate and the woman who married her brother, Sara Anne shared insights into her late husband, Ed, as well as his three sisters—Nelle, Alice, and Louise—and their parents, A.C. and Frances Lee.
To the Croft family, who opened their home and hearts to me, I owe a special debt of gratitude. Haniel’s wise and discer
ning sense of the practical was invaluable to me over the years, as were Judy’s unfailing kindness and welcoming presence. It is with good reason that Alice and Nelle placed special trust in their integrity, personally and professionally.
Haniel and Judy’s son, Kenny, greatly enhanced my experience in Monroeville as no one else could. His unconditional and wholehearted friendship was as refreshing to me as it was to Nelle.
The late Dale Welch often compared notes with Nelle about books and their Alabama childhoods; I enjoyed long afternoons with them on Dale’s back sun porch. Likewise, Kathryn Dawkins’s side-porch-turned-family-room was the setting for many enjoyable hours with her and Nelle, discussing the characters of the Methodist church and a time and place long gone in Monroeville and Kathryn’s native Repton.
Ila Jeter offered valuable perspective on the Poarch Native American community as well as what a person gleans about the good citizens of Monroeville and Mexia in thirty years as a hairdresser. On our outings she was a Baptist among Methodists and always ready with a quip. Bill Miller, a former Vanity Fair executive, explained the culture and the workings of the apparel manufacturer, a major employer for many years.
Norman Barnett shed light on the long friendship between the Barnett and Lee families. Nick Hare offered his perspective on A. C. Lee’s work as an attorney. Longtime teacher Ida Guilliard shared stories of Nelle, Alice, and their two other siblings. Margaret Garrett captivated Nelle and me as she recalled stories of her girlhood. She has since died, as have Nick and Ida.
My sincere gratitude goes to my editors at the Chicago Tribune. As the Tribune’s co-managing editor, Jim Warren offered the vision and encouragement that made my long newspaper story possible. Tim Bannon, editor of the Tempo features section, placed his trust in me in assigning the story and supplied his good judgment every step of the way.
Jeff Lyon applied his considerable editing skills, and photographer Terrence James contributed stellar portraits of Nelle, Alice, and their community. My good friend and former colleague Julia Keller, author of several books, was an invaluable source of insight and help from the beginning.
The article my Tribune editors helped guide to publication ended up being the catalyst for this book.
The women of my writing group in Oak Park have my deepest gratitude.
Each of them offered her own valuable perspective and specific suggestions for improving the book. They supplied the camaraderie that sustained me every week. I’m indebted to Elizabeth Berg, Veronica Chapa, Arlene Malinowski, Pam Todd, and Michele Weldon. I cherish their wisdom and friendship.
I’m grateful to the doctors who have seen me through this experience with unusual skill and compassion.
My mother, Carla Mills, was my partner in this book, a tireless researcher, wise sounding board, unofficial editor, and frequent fellow traveler, if one whose dubious sense of direction rivals my own. A retired editor, she blended professionalism and good sense with the natural empathy and humor that endear her to others. She has been an irreplaceable source of suggestions and solutions, solace and celebration. This was a journey we took together and I was privileged to have the finest travel companion.
My father died in 2011, knowing the book he had championed was slowly taking shape. For ten years he’d been intrigued by my good fortune in getting to know the Lees, always encouraging me to savor the friendship, to hold dear what I learned about their town, and to cherish a novel that epitomized everything he valued as an attorney.
We had celebrated the Penguin Press’s acquisition of the manuscript just a few months before his unexpected passing. All his life, he had that “spark of fresh adventure” in his eyes—as Scout says of Jem in the novel—and it remains a source of joy and inspiration, as are the nearly fifty years of my parents’ marriage.
My frame of reference in understanding Monroeville was my father’s hometown of Black River Falls, Wisconsin. It was as if my grandfather, Tom Mills, had slipped a key into my pocket that opened the door to quick rapport with Alice and Nelle. He and Alice were born a year apart and shared a strikingly similar sensibility. He died in 1999, but his spirit and values infuse this book and my time with the Lees.
My appreciation of small town life, in all its humanity and humor, began in Black River Falls and extended to Monroeville, also a county seat in a lower-income area. I extend my thanks for the insight and understanding of my relatives and friends: Gene and Janet Krohn, Gil and the late Alice Homstad, Ann and Waldo Peterson, and Tom and Sally Lister.
For their patience and support, I send affectionate thanks as well to my brother, Mark John, and his sons, Thomas and Andrew, in Minnesota.
* Gus Lee, Honor and Duty (reprint, New York: Ivy Books, 1994), pp. 149–50.