Thank You Harper Lee

I  saw  To Kill a Mockingbird on television recently - again. It never fails to remind me how magnificent Harper Lee’s book is.  I think it stands up to anything Twain, Steinbeck, or Hemingway ever wrote. She gave us a gift that will give to generations beyond us. 

Amazingly, I didn’t read Mockingbird in high school, which doesn’t speak well of my teachers in the English Department.  Instead,  I was in my mid-thirties when I met Atticus Finch. I was mesmerized. I was moved.  It instantly became my favorite book.  And to think it was written by a fellow Alabamian and graduate of the University of Alabama!  Smitten as I was, I began to search for anything I could find about Harper Lee and her book.  To my delight, I learned of an “open secret” -  that autographed copies of the book were generally available at a couple of stores in her hometown. It goes without saying that this immediately went on my bucket list.    

Autographed copies of Mockingbird can be as difficult to find as Masters tickets. However, Ms. Lee doled out a few for her close friends to sell at their places of business in Monroeville. And like Augusta  National, there was no price gouging.  Ms. Lee gave a strict admonition that the price of an autographed copy could be no more than the published retail price of the book.  

As you might suspect, a trip to Monroeville became my top priority the next time I was in south Alabama.  To heck with sales calls - that was going to be just a cover for me to get my autographed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. I still remember the anticipation as I exited I 65 and headed west towards Harper Lee’s hometown. 

My timing was lousy. I reached the downtown courthouse museum at 4 PM, right as it was closing up for the day.   How could I be so stupid as to not to check the closing time?   

The curator, a sweet,  knowledgeable  lady, was gracious enough to chat with me for a few minutes, answering several questions about Ms. Lee, the book, and the movie.  Finally

as we parted company, she asked me a question  I was desperate to hear. 

“Well, would you like an autographed copy of the book?”

“Would a starving man want a T bone steak?”,  I thought.  But, of course, I kept that to myself.  Southern chivalary overrode my sarcastic inclination. 

“Yes ma’am.  I’d love to have one!”

She gave me specific directions to a nearby video store located in a tired old shopping center. That’s where I would buy my book.  I felt like Indiana Jones after he had been given the last clue to find the Ark of the Covenant!

I hastily got in my car and put the key in the ignition. I didn’t want this place closing early on me. Fortunately,  it was a short drive from the town square.  As I parked and headed to the entrance, I was struck by the fact that this video store wasn’t a national chain.  It was something like Bob’s Video - I can’t remember.  Heart racing, I walked past the homemade wooden racks to the back of the store,  where I stood in line with people checking out the likes of Batman, The Matrix, and The Little Mermaid.   My time came at last.  Suddenly, I hesitated.  Suddenly, this seemed like a stupid request. I’m asking for a literary classic in a dumpy video store?  I felt like a vegan at a hot dog stand. 

But I had come too far to let my insecurities get the best of me.  Taking a deep breath, I made my request to the girl behind the counter.  

“Yes, I would like an autographed copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, please.”

She didn’t flinch.  Without hesitation she turned,  plucked a hardback book from a very short stack, and nonchalantly handed it to me like it was a video of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.  I paid the eighteen dollar price, opened the cover and there it was: her name, Harper Lee, written in a neat, flowing handwriting style.  I had it at last!   My book!   My Precious!   

Once home, I put the copy of the  classic on my bookshelf beside a signed copy of South of Broad by Pat Conroy, another great southern writer.  My middle son, who also loves Mockingbird, immediately came over to see it.  We admired it in silence together for a few minutes.  Then I spoke.  “Son, that book will belong to you one day.  The  minute they wheel me out of this house on a gurney, you  take it off the book shelf, put it in the back seat of my 1967 Mustang, and then head home with both of them. They’re yours.”    

To which he responded, “If only Carroll Shelby had autographed the dashboard.”  Always the joker.  

And little did I know that this would not be the last time I tried to get an autographed copy of this book.  Years later, there was another, more complicated attempt that actually involved contact with Harper Lee.   It’s one of the favorite stories of my life.  

I’m writing it now, so you’ll see it soon enough.  In the meantime, go back and re-read To Kill a Mockingbird.   It’s as pertinent now as it was then. 

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