Local color fiction contained several distinct features. Ensor explains:
"The setting is always some out-of-the-way place unfamiliar to the
reader. The characters are not sophisticated, and they speak in the local
dialect. The narrator, who acts as a kind of intermediary, is usually a
sophisticated outsider, someone like the reader."
Tennessee's mountain people were ripe for this sort of treatment. Mary
Noailles Murfree, the best known of Tennessee's local colorists, wrote
stories of their exploits for the Boston-based Atlantic Monthly under the
name of Charles Egbert Craddock. "His" writings were enormously popular at
the time. "I can imagine the Bostonians reading them and saying, 'How
quaint,'" Ensor dryly remarks.
Like most of the other local color writers, Murfree was not a
mountaineer. She was born into a prominent Middle Tennessee family
(Murfreesboro was named for an ancestor) who were able to send her to a
Philadelphia finishing school. Her knowledge of the mountains, such as it
was, came from spending a series of summers at the Cumberland resort of
Beersheba Springs (south of McMinnville) and occasional visits to such
places as Montvale Springs (south of Maryville). Murfree and her sister
ventured out to buy meat and produce from the locals, and apparently some
local people came to the "watering places," as they were known, to sell
their goods.
Under the Craddock pseudonym, Murfree's story "The Dancin' Party at
Harrison's Cove" was published in the Atlantic Monthly for May 1878, the
first of her many appearances there. It and seven other stories were
later collected in Murfree's first book, In the Tennessee Mountains
(1884). The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains, her first novel,
appeared the following year. In all, Murfree published 25 books, the last
of them in 1914. Although some of her stories take place elsewhere, the
prolific Murfree ("She didn't know when to quit," Ensor observes)
primarily used as settings the Cumberland and Great Smoky mountains. She
has been criticized in more recent times for not knowing her settings and
characters more intimately, but as Ensor points out, "She knew them a lot
better than the Bostonians did."
When Murfree traveled to Boston in March 1885 to reveal her true
identity, "it caused quite a stir," Ensor says. Thomas Bailey Aldrich,
then editor of the Atlantic, had known that "Craddock" was a pseudonym,
but he had not guessed that "M.N. Murfree" was other than a male
Tennessean. Despite the revelation of her true name and gender, Murfree
continued to publish as Craddock for the rest of her writing career.
Born in Georgia, but raised in Sewanee, Tennessee, where her father was
one of the founding bishops of the University of the South, Sarah Barnwell
Elliott was notable for bringing feminist views into the local color
arena. For example, her fourth novel, The Durket Sperret (1898)--that's
"spirit" to you and me--chronicles the life of a young mountain woman from
the Sewanee area who remains independent even after repeated offers of
marriage. In all, Elliott published six novels between 1879 and 1901, the
best of which is usually said to have been Jerry (1891). Her writing,
though commended, was never as popular as Murfree's. For one thing,
Tennessee's local color scene was already dominated by Murfree, and for
another, Ensor says, "She was simply not as good a writer." Her handling
of dialect in particular falls short of Murfree's, he says.
By contrast, Will Allen Dromgoole achieved wide acclaim both in Boston
and in the South. She did not need to invent a male pseudonym: her
father, wishing his seventh child to be a boy, had already decided on the
name William, and that was the name Dromgoole received, even though she
turned out to be a girl. Her first book, The Sunny Side of the Cumberland
(1886), was published under the name "Will Allen," but she almost always
signed herself "Will Allen Dromgoole." Readers frequently assumed that
she was male.
Like Murfree, Dromgoole was prolific, completing 14 books, numerous short
stories, 7,500 poems and songs, and more than 5,000 columns for the
Nashville Banner, where she worked for several decades. Dromgoole
frequently published in the Boston Arena, whose editor, B.O. Flower,
enthusiastically pronounced her a "Southern woman of genius." Of
Dromgoole's stories Flower wrote that "her love of the South is only
surpassed by the affection she feels for the mountains and valleys of her
dear old Tennessee." Modern readers may object to the sentimentalism of
Dromgoole's stories, but she was widely respected in her day. Before she
died in 1934, she had been named poet laureate of both Tennessee and of
the Poetry Society of the South.
Though she published after the heyday of the local color movement, Emma
Bell Miles also wrote about Tennessee life. Her book The Spirit of the
Mountains (1905) provided a truer account of mountain ways than most of
what appeared in the pages of the other three writers. For much of her
life Miles lived in a shack on Walden's Ridge near Chattanooga, first with
her parents and then with her husband. The Spirit of the Mountains was
drawn from Miles's experience of teaching school on Walden's Ridge. In
her spare moments she wrote down the mountain poems and songs she had
heard, thus providing a valuable account for future generations. Her
prose was, however, prone to the sentimentalism so often found in local
color fiction: "Dear common things! Memories of hours of spiritual
exaltation do not cling to the heart like the mere smells of hot meadows,
of rain-wet plowed land, of barn lofts and kitchen corners....Oh, the
poignant sweetness, the infinite pathos of common things!"
Oh, indeed.
What has been described as the "smarmy sentimentalism" of local color
fiction may have been part of its undoing. In any case, Ensor says, "By
the 1890s, the trend in American literature was realistic, away from the
excesses of romanticism." The next surge in Tennessee literature did not
take place for another 30 years, when Vanderbilt's Fugitive group formed.
Attention turned away from the mountains to the capital city and to a way
of writing less easily understood by the general reader. But whatever
their faults, and however briefly, the local color ladies succeeded in
giving Tennessee a place in the national literary scene.