John Grooms first made his mark on Charlotte journalism as the editor
of Creative Loafing, the award-winning alternative weekly that accomplished
more under his leadership than anyone could reasonably have expected. At
a time of troubles for daily journalism - -a reality that nibbled at the
heels of even good papers like the Charlotte Observer -- Grooms
made "the Loaf," as it was often called, indispensable to the
public debate. He opened his pages to the city's best writers, including
columnists who were willing to take a stand.
I think particularly of Hal Crowther and Jerry Klein, two commentators
ready to mix it up with the most controversial issues of the time. Crowther
was acerbic, cerebral and expansive -- an essayist in the finest American
tradition, whose left-of-center political views were never quite pat and
often took his readers by surprise. Klein was different. A progressive
like Crowther in his basic point of view, he often led with his heart and
even when you knew what Jerry would say, you had to admire his bravery
and grit.
For more than 17 years Grooms oversaw this swirling debate, amplified
in other parts of the paper by careful reporting that was sometimes quirky
and often had an edge. Finally, however, he seemed to grow tired of the
editor's rat race, and in 2005 he gave it up, choosing to devote himself
instead to his own writing. And I have to say that in the end, this may
have been John Grooms at his best.
In many ways, he proved to be more Crowther than Klein, but there was
an indignation bursting from his core, as he dissected the careers of the
region's public figures. With the death of U.S. Sen. Jesse Helms, for example,
Grooms was appalled by the obsessive politeness of the mainline media.
Deluged with the sanitized affirmations of Helms' geniality, Grooms, at
last, let loose a primal scream of "Enough!"
"So far," he wrote, "state and national media haven't
been forthright about the senator's corrosive influence on both state and
national politics, nor have they acknowledged the extremism and vindictiveness
of many of his political actions. So, in lieu of the mainstream press doing
its duty, let's take a brief look at Helms' record. Warning: it's not a
pretty sight."
Grooms went on to note that Helms' career sprang from the soil of segregation
and never quite escaped those deep racist roots. "…He strongly
opposed establishing a national holiday in honor of Martin Luther King
Jr.," wrote Grooms, "because, in Helms' mind, the Nobel Peace
Prize winner was a communist and a 'sex pervert.' He also stubbornly opposed
any attempts to end apartheid in South Africa, and he literally turned
his back on Nelson Mandela during the latter's visit to Washington, D.C."
Helms, of course, was far from alone in feeling Grooms' sting. In a
column called "It's Hateful Bigotry," published in the spring
of 2006, Grooms stood firm against the wave of anti-immigrant pronouncements
that suddenly dominated the national airwaves. "No matter how many
times," he wrote, "the anti-immigrant crowd couches the issue
in terms of economics, drunk driving, nationalism or what-have-you, the
root of their concern is much simpler, and much sadder. It's the old, dark,
human impulse to reject and eliminate 'the other.'"
Such understandings, always frank and always consistent, permeate the
pages of this collection. In 2008, Grooms wrote about the reluctance of
three Charlotte school board members to stand against bullying in the public
schools. (Their reasoning? A stronger ban on the practice would constitute
"a pro-homosexual agenda.") He criticized Republican fear-mongering
in the presidential race, George Bush's foreign policy agenda, and even
the double-edged legacy of the Rev. Billy Graham.
But Grooms has been more than the village scold. One of my favorite
pieces in the book is his reminiscence about Porter Wagoner, the spangled,
unpretentious country music star who teamed with Dolly Parton in the 1970s
to make some of the finest music in his genre. At the time, Grooms was
a college student from South Carolina, conflicted about his own southern
origins and unsure what to make of Porter and Dolly. When he finally met
them in 1972, he was immediately impressed by their accessibility, but
even more by their intelligence and wit.
"These flashy country stars," he wrote years later, "Southern
through and through, were genuine, bright people; and I knew the next day
I'd listen to both the Beatles and Porter and Dolly and -- finally -- it
would be perfectly OK to live in my skin as a knowledgeable, sophisto-smartass
who also loved our region's downhome ways."
With a candor that's often aimed at himself, Grooms has proven to be,
throughout his career, a writer who knows exactly what he thinks. And as
the pages of this book make clear, he isn't the least bit afraid to say
what it is.
-- Frye Gaillard, 2009
Frye Gaillard, a former southern editor of the Charlotte Observer
and for years a frequent contributor to Creative Loafing, is now
writer in residence at the University of South Alabama. He has written
or edited more than 20 books, including Cradle of Freedom: Alabama
and the Movement That Changed America, winner of the Lillian Smith
Award for best southern non-fiction; and With Music and Justice for
All: Some Southerners and Their Passions, an inaugural selection of
the Progressive Book Club.