REMEMBERING LEWIS GREEN

by Gary Carden

The first time I heard of Lewis Green was in the early 70’s when I read And Scatter the Proud. It was a huge, sprawling novel that unabashedly reflected the influence of Thomas Wolfe, and like Wolfe, Green was passionate, eloquent and uneven. Next, I took on The Silence of Snakes, which, in my opinion, represents Lewis’ best work. It was autobiographical, of course, even to the point that this violent tale’s major characters were all simply different aspects of Green’s personality.

When I finally had an opportunity to meet Lewis, I was already a devoted fan. I knew that he had quit his job at the Asheville Citizen so that he could pursue his first love – in-depth journalism. I had read his remarkable newspaper, Native Stone, and remember his “in your face” coverage of topics ranging from snake-handling churches to corrupt political figures.

Lewis had been invited to speak at the Jackson County Library and I was recruited to meet Lewis at a local restaurant, have dinner and bring him to the library. I asked the sponsors of the program why the organization needed me. “Well,” said the president, “Mr. Green has a reputation for being ‘eccentric.’ We thought perhaps another writer would be helpful.” I was puzzled, but a free dinner with one of my heroes was irresistible.

Although we spent over an hour at The Western Sizzler, I am confident that Lewis never knew who I was, nor cared. He talked non-stop, and he was a brilliant, mesmerizing speaker. At the time, he was teaching classes in creative writing at Haywood Community College and UNC-A, and I had met several of his students – all who praised his capabilities as a teacher. During our dinner, he talked about an astonishing variety of subjects: the Kabala, the absence of “quality” ghost stories in Appalachia, the dismal state of literacy in America and mountain folklore. In every instance, Lewis spoke with an intensity and a confidence that precluded any dissenting views.

The talk went well until Lewis asked the audience (about twenty people) if they had read his novels. It quickly became apparent that I was the only person who had read them. Suddenly, his good opinion of me increased in direct proportion to his disapproval of the rest of the audience – a group that he characterized as “the bored wives of doctors, lawyers and politicians.” He left soon afterwards, and … he never asked me my name.

In the next decade, I occasionally heard some colorful tales about Lewis. He had been involved in a brawl at a carnival that packed the local jail. He had attacked a Citizen reporter during an argument and had ended up in court. Some of the stories are apocryphal, I’m sure. Once when Lewis was honored by the Hunter Library at WCU, he was quizzed by fans at the reception about his “propensity for violence,” and it was obvious that he enjoyed his reputation.

Years later when I was working in Raleigh, I attended a book-signing for Lewis at a local bookstore, only to discover a large stack of autographed copies of The High-Pitched Laugh of the Painted Lady in a prominent display … but no Lewis. Spotting the storeowner in the back of the store, I asked, “Where is Lewis?” The owner was talking on the phone while nursing a black eye. “I hope I never see that guy again,” he said. When I asked what the disagreement had been about, the owner said that shortly after Lewis arrived, they had been discussing air pollution in Raleigh. When the owner disagreed with Lewis’ theory that the primary cause was major trucking companies, Lewis had simply knocked him down.

As the years passed, Lewis continued to write fiction although I suspect his first love was always journalism. Spirit Bells did not find a popular audience. Lewis continued to teach creative writing and lecture on the Kabala. Several years ago, when I heard about Lewis’ conflict with the church and his subsequent excommunication, I felt prompted to write a column about Lewis Green. Essentially, I concluded that Lewis’ checkered career reminded me of William Pelley, another brilliant writer who wrote inspired fiction, but somehow, lost his way. Essentially, I felt that Lewis Green should have become one of our most celebrated writers. Instead, he became “sidetracked” and devoted his talent to issues that demeaned his talents.

I meant well. However, when Lewis read my article, he sent me word through a “mutual friend” that the next time he saw me, I was due a thrashing. Lewis probably forgot the incident, but I didn’t. Whenever I heard that Lewis was doing a reading in Jackson County … I stayed home.

So, this talented, flawed and complicated man is gone. No one remembers And Scatter the Proud or The Silence of Snakes now, but I can honestly say that even after half a century, those two novels still smolder with eloquent and luminous passages that define what it is to be a product of these mountains.

Dr. Carden is another long-time ACR contributor of story, article, regional introduction and information, personal/professional support, a published author, legendary mountain storyteller, retired professor and grant writer for Qualla Boundary NC's Cherokee Nation. His earlier article about Lewis Green is entitled "Straying From The Path".