Mississippi Knights
The other night, I was talking with a fella, and I made the mistake of using the phrase “Mississippi Culture.” He picked up on that and immediately said, “Man, Mississippi is too poor to ever afford a culture.” to which I replied, “Brother, we ain’t never had anything but a culture!” It’s actually never a mistake to use the phrase “Mississippi Culture.” I use it sometimes, just to piss somebody off.
I wrote the other day about how every collection of human beings we call a culture has a spiritual need for a foundational myth. The Hebrews had the wealth of Solomon and his Temple. (Somebody’s gonna drag me for saying Solomon’s temple was a myth. If it’s not a myth, why isn’t there archeological evidence?) The Greeks had Troy (same story.) In Mississippi, we had the Confederacy.
I don’t think Tate Reeves actually still clings to the Confederate mythology (at least I hope he doesn’t). Still, he keeps declaring Confederate Memorial Day because there are a bunch of old men who send him money and pull his strings that do, so he declares Confederate Memorial Day, even though everybody on Twitter calls him names. I honestly feel bad about what people say about the Governor on Twitter. I don’t think he reads it, but he really probably should. I have difficulty with generals who shrink from people who challenge them.
Long ago, I dropped the Confederate Mythology, even though it actually surrounded me, and I replaced it with a new myth, one that actually happened when I was a teenager trying to become a man, A myth called “The Christmas Miracle of 1982, and “The Boys of Spring.” They are, for me, The Knights of the Round Table, but in Mississippi.
They say the phrase “Boys of Spring” was invented by Jere Nash and Andy Taggart. I’ve never known if that’s true, but I can’t think of two guys I’d rather bestow that honor on. Some people use the term “Boys of Spring” like they have a mouth full of salt because they remember those days, and there are people who say the name “William Winter” like he was King Arthur himself. I’m one of those.
A law was made a distant moon ago here:
July and August cannot be too hot.
And there's a legal limit to the snow here
In Camelot.
The winter is forbidden till December
And exits March the second on the dot.
By order, summer lingers through September
In Camelot.
Camelot! Camelot!
I know it sounds a bit bizarre,
But in Camelot, Camelot
That's how conditions are.
The rain may never fall till after sundown.
By eight, the morning fog must disappear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot.
Obviously, Mississippi was never anything like Camelot, but neither was pre-medieval England. Myths don’t depend on reality. They are about the idea that we can and have done better in the distant past and can do better in the future.
There was a time when really bad Democrats ran Mississippi, and then there was a time when really bad Republicans ran Mississippi. In between that, in the mythological times, there was a Mississippi run by Moderate Democrats and Moderate Republicans, and they say we grew sixteen inches that year.
For the record: The Boys of Spring included Dick Molpus, David Crews, Bill Gartin, John Henegan, Andy Mullins, and Ray Mabus. William Winter was Arthur, and Elise was Lady Guinevere.
Elise Winer had been a Varner, a storied name in Mississippi. Upon becoming First Lady, one of her first tasks was to renovate and restore the Governor’s Mansion. Rumors of what the Finch family had done to it circulated in Mississippi for years. I don’t know which of them was true, but I hope they all were.
I can’t think of a more Guineveresque First Lady than Elise Winter. Pat Fordice was a close second, but Pat’s story had a twisted and tragic end to it, mainly because her husband was a snake. That’s not a term I use lightly. If you’re from here, there’s a video you really should look up. Reporter Bert Case drove up on a love shack Governor Fordice built for his paramour while the First Lady was holding down the Governor’s Mansion. Case accused the Governor of cheating on his wife, and Kirk Fordice said he was gonna “whip Bert Case’s ass” on national television. I’ve seen video of Bert Case fighting off a pack of Mississippi Pit Bulls and winning. On his best day, I don’t think Kirk Fordice was gonna whip Bert’s ass.
If Governor Winter was Arthur, and Elise Winter was Guiniere, then who was Lancelot? Who was the perfect knight? Andy Mullins is squirming in his chair hoping I don’t say his name. Andy was never anything but a gentleman with the first lady, but in the years when the Governor started to bask in the warm glow of his reputation, Andy took up the fight. He became the first Knight. There are literally legions of educators in Mississippi who are what they are because of Andy Mullins. That’s not an exaggeration.
I met Andy when he was my brother’s football coach. We all thought he was ancient, but he was probably all of twenty-three. My school, St. Andrews, was at a crossroads during a very delicate time in Mississippi’s history where a lot of people wanted it to become just another Segregation Academy and take over its board just like they’d done with Prep and JA. That story is really a pretty deep well. I doubt if I’ll ever write it out in full, at least not where anyone will see it. Buy me a drink sometime, and we’ll talk.
There are a lot of people to thank for keeping St. Andrews on a separate and better course, but probably none more than Andy Mullins, who stood down the Mississippi Private School Association when they thought they were gonna bowl over this Millsaps boy, and he learned them differently. Whatever happened with the Mississippi Education Reform Act or the Mississippi Teacher’s Corps, I will always own him for what he did for St. Andrews. Andy decided he hadn’t had quite enough of Mississippi History and Mississippi Mythology, so he married Clay Lee’s daughter.
Dick Molpus called me the other day, saying he wanted to tell me a story. I tried to call him back, but we kept missing each other. I’m always a little afraid of what people will think when they hear my new voice. The one I got from Bells Palsy. I need to see Dr. Jess Roberts and get that fixed again, but he does things to my body that some of the worst women in Mississippi never dared, so I’ve been avoiding it.
Dick was born in Philadelphia, Mississippi, in a year I won’t mention, but he was old enough to know what the hell happened in Philadelphia, Mississippi. I’ve never heard him mention it, but from what his life became, I feel like what happened in Philadelphia changed him. Some of you won’t know what I’m talking about because you’re too young. One day, I’ll write down the stories I heard about Philadelphia from my Daddy and Ben Puckett. An earthen dam in Philadelphia, Mississippi, holds all of Mississippi’s history in it.
As Secretary of State, Molpus, among other things, built an organizational framework that made the Mississippi Educational Reform Act functional. His work made what the Boys of Spring accomplished happen in the real world. Dick did more to organize and streamline the functional apparatus of Mississippi state government than any man before or since. He willingly crossed swords with both Buddie Newman and Sonny Meredith, a challenge most others avoided. Dick ran against Kirk Fordice for governor in the years shortly after my father’s death. That was a pretty rough time for me, so I wasn’t any help to him. I wish I had been. I wish, to hell, he had won.
My Sunday school class is filled with Mississippi Knights, although none of them were in the Boy’s of Spring. If you don’t know who Ed King is, stop reading this and go find out. If you live here, if you live in the South, you owe it to yourself to know who Ed King is and what he did.
Dr. Lamar Weems did more to make the healthcare system equitable and available to the people of Mississippi than most anybody I know. (There’s no mistake that many of the people on this list went to Millsaps. It’s not that I’m prejudiced, although I am, but there’s a nature about ever being at Millsaps that makes a person think they should do something about Mississippi.) I’ve been watching Lamar closely in this battle about Medicaid in Mississippi. I watch him because his opinion means more to me than most. I think what happened more than frustrated him. I think it hurt him that, after all this time, the people that matter still don’t listen to him. (I’m looking at the Governor when I say this.)
Brad Chism probably wishes I wouldn’t mention him, so I will. Brad was too young to be among the Boys of Spring, but just barely. Like Andy Mullins, my daddy always thought Brad would be governor of Mississippi one day. Instead, we got Tate Reeves. Thanks guys. Brad is kind of the rogue knight of Mississippi politics. He says what he thinks and means what he says. He owes allegiance to no one, and you steer a course away from his advice at your own peril because, in my experience, he’s almost always been right.
When I was in rehab, they put me down the hall from John Corlew. Rehab sort of brought me back to life after pretending to be dead for twelve years. I think the prospect of actually dying made me realize I had to choose. I chose life.
When I got strong enough, I’d go down to John’s room, and he and I would talk about Mississippi like the last forty years had never happened. John was a moderate Democrat, but his best friend was Trent Lott, a moderate Republican. These are names from a time when getting elected meant doing something for Mississippi, and most men were moderates because Mississippi has always been too poor to have two parties.
When John died, I thought long and hard about whether I should go to the funeral. I don’t do well at funerals. I survived the funeral of Will Hawthorne because there were four Chi Omegas with their hand on my back while I trembled. As big as I am, those tiny hands kept me from crumbling. Knowing that John’s wife, Lee, would be at his funeral, I knew she needed people who could be strong, and there was no way I could look at a box with John in it and be strong. I don’t think Lee reads my stuff. I hope someone will tell her I mentioned John as a Knight of Mississippi, probably my favorite one.
I’m sure there are new Knights of Mississippi, but I’ve just been out of circulation for too long to know who they are. Bobby Moak is still out there, swinging his bat like a champion. I saw on twitter where he’s suing a guy I don’t care for. I hope he wins.
There are some young people I have my eyes on. No surprise, most of them went to Millsaps. Two of them are proteges of David Culpepper at Elseworks. The way people talk about George Harmon, you wouldn’t think he’d be the sort of fella to create a breeding ground for Mississippi Knights, but he did. Indian and Arab women coming from Millsaps will change the world. I bet you didn’t expect that.
Modern Knights aren’t real. They’re myths we create to make us think we’re better than we are in times when we need to be better. Mississippi is a complicated, sometimes beautiful, sometimes painful place. I know it sounds bizarre, but in Mississippi, that’s how conditions are.
