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Confederacy of Silence: A True Tale of the New Old South

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Richard Rubin says he grew up in Greenwood, Mississippi. It is hyperbole; he spent one good year there in 1988 and 1989, but he was a college graduate at the time. He was, as a Greenwood friend reminds him throughout _Confederacy of Silence: A True Tale of the New Old South_ (Atria Books), an "Ivy League Yankee Jew," who came in from New York and left again for New York. His growing up during that year could have consisted only of disillusion and disgust, and while those were not absent, for Greenwood and its citizens he developed a compassion, a clear understanding, and even love. The year incidentally was one of the steps that turned him into a very fine writer, as this, his first book, shows.

With the job market for a non-typist, liberal arts degree graduate nil in New York, he was looking for work, and responded to an ad seeking a sports reporter for the Greenwood paper. Throughout the book, he shows how Greenwood citizens were almost universally interested, kind, and accepting. The rare instances when he was not welcomed were generally because he was a reporter, not because of his origins. Of course he ran into racists, such as the one who refused the paper because it had too many pictures of blacks in it (although of course the word "black" was not used). Rubin formulated the plan that while in Greenwood, he would maintain a courteous and genial appearance, and keep his outrage to himself. While this is probably mere reciprocation of what the Greenwood citizens did toward him, it worked, in a way: "...while it would indeed protect my job, it would do something quite different to my conscience." Much of the delightful memoir within this book has to do with a foreigner adjusting to a strange land, and would do as a guidebook. He learns what tea, fire ants, and chewing tobacco are, and that sports means football. He was able to write about the Greenwood football team which had a glorious year, quarterbacked by a black, Handy Campbell, who, among other achievements, capped his season with a magnificent seventy yard pass against arch-rival Tupelo. Campbell had all the makings for a fine college quarterback and a career as a professional, but it did not happen. In fact, he wound up on trial for murder. When Rubin, back in New York, heard about the charges, he returned to Greenwood, six years later, to find out what had happened. He makes a good case that Campbell's college career was deliberately derailed because the universities could not at that time have accepted a black quarterback, although he does not leave out the mistakes Campbell made. The outcome of the murder trial, meticulously reported here, reinforces much of what Rubin learned in his time in Greenwood, but it is a surprising outcome nonetheless, and not to be revealed here.

Rubin's digressions on his visits to Confederate graveyards, or meeting with Jews who lived in the town, or dating southern girls, are important to relaying the atmosphere of his second home town. Though the latter part of the book is an examination of the sad case of Handy Campbell, the book overall is an affectionate portrayal of a Delta town and the friends he made there. It has a gripping story, and brilliant pictures of singular characters. Greenwood did right by this visitor, and his book repays the favor handsomely.

Having spent my formative years in Mississippi, I approached Mr. Rubin's book with some trepidation. I do love Mississippi-warts and all. I am all too familiar with books written about the South that berate the people based upon their history and the stereotypical depiction of their actions. Refreshingly, Mr. Rubin does not fall into this trap. Yes, there are sections of the book that are difficult to read due to the hateful, racist language referenced. Thankfully, Confederacy of Silence doesn't stop there. The beauty of the place and the generosity and graciousness of the people are crucial aspects of the Mississippi experience that the author astutely depicts for the reader.

I found the section of the book devoted to the writer's experience in the Delta truly fascinating. I found the second half of the book to be a genuine `page turner.' While I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book, I wanted to finish it quickly to find out what happened to Handy Campbell. I did approach the ending with some hesitancy-would Campbell be found guilty even though he was innocent or was he actually guilty? I must admit that the final outcome of the trial was something I never even considered.

I highly recommend this book. As a native of Mississippi, I strongly urge those unfamiliar with the state to experience second-hand the good in the people that Mr. Rubin encounters-it is easy to see the bad. The author uses a clear voice from which the reader can draw his or her own opinion.

Okay, I don't live in Mississippi. But I live in Alabama, and I think that qualifies me to say that in 'Confederacy of Silence,' Richard Rubin -- who quotes someone calling him 'a Yankee Jew' as soon as the book gets going -- has drawn one of the most well-rounded and thoughtful portraits of this never-boring place we call The South. Most Northerners would come down here with their minds made up, ready to stereotype, ready to poke fun and use a whole bunch of dialect (when Rubin uses it, which isn't much, it's really effective and makes a character come to life). Not Rubin. He doesn't know what he's going to find, and while he has some preconceived ideas, he discards them along the way and shows himself doing it. He really *lives* in Mississippi--he gets into his community, he finds things he thinks are fascinating, and he shares them with all of us in a way that makes us think they're interesting too. So that's one part of the book. Another part of the book is about Handy Campbell, a high-school football star whose amazing senior season Rubin covers, and his trial for murder six or so years later. I won't give away the ending, but what makes it so compelling is not just whether Handy is guilty but how Rubin feels about Handy and how the trial affects that. I read a review somewhere that compared this to Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. And it's kind of true, because Confederacy of Silence shows us an entire community and how the way various people live in the community can lead to a murder and how that affects the town. Anyone who liked 'Midnight' will like this. It's not just a memoir, it's not just reporting, it's not even just true crime. It's a really well-rounded view of a whole place, the Mississippi Delta, and its history and its culture and what they lead to. It's great reading.

"Confederacy of Silence" is the first full-length book by Richard Rubin, a former newspaper writer who experienced his coming of age as a fish out of water: A 21-year-old "New York Yankee Jew," as one of his friends called him, straight from an Ivy League college (Penn) to the Mississippi Delta - for no reason other than he could write (but not type), had no other viable job prospects and had a longstanding fascination with the 1955 Emmett Till murder case. Hired as sports editor at the Greenwood Commonwealth, Rubin "discovers" - as does the rest of Mississippi, including its two SEC colleges - the brilliant talent of Bulldogs quarterback Handy Campbell. After winning the North state championship, Campbell was signed by Mississippi State, beginning a circuitous route over six years - never playing a down of football - which led to him and an accomplice being charged with murder.

There are two parts to this book: Rubin's recollections of his one-year term at the newspaper and then his return to the Delta six years later to cover the Campbell trial. The first half is more interesting, describing his reactions to the racial environment he encounters in the Delta - which he notes is as different from the rest of Mississippi as Mississippi is to the rest of the nation. As one who has lived, quite pleasantly, in the Hospitality State, I can attest to that truth. There exists a dichotomy in Rubin's reactions between genuine affection for the people who befriend him and the revulsion he feels for their racial attitudes. This is not an uncommon experience for white Americans who disdain prejudice, and it is not exclusive to the South. Although Rubin's naivety is touching, it is also annoying. Obviously, his life in New York City and Philly was cloistered, or else what explains his apparent ignorance of the pervasive poverty in those communities? Even six years later, he doesn't appear to have gained much wisdom, only cynicism. The most significant flaw in this book is also its strength: Rubin's lack of life experience. This is what differentiates it from the masterful work of Willie Morris in "The Courting of Marcus Dupree," which includes many similar observations (and which I heartily recommend).

The second section is written in the present, on Campbell's fate. He conducts several interviews, some of them quite revealing. Rubin has a keen eye for detail, although - judging from a journalistic perspective - he's not a sharp interviewer and fails to adequately prepare. He admits the former, repeatedly ruing the questions he failed to ask - and then not even recognizing all of those, the reader will notice - mainly out of timidity. When he learns that Campbell has been arrested, he charges back to Mississippi - having arranged a meeting with Campbell through his lawyer - and conducts it without having even read the case file. While this allows Rubin the luxury of incredulity that a quiet, self-conscious young man like Campbell could be charged with murder, his steadfast desire to maintain his innocence colors Rubin's perspective. He has not, as it turns out, come of age. He has a sense of irony, but it is not nearly as poignant as a more seasoned observer would reflect.

Rubin writes well and vividly, though, and this makes the book a page-turner - at least through the first half. The interviews of the second part bog down the narrative, although Rubin thankfully abbreviates them to their essence.

Much of the criticism directed toward Rubin has been politically tinged. Southerners, not least of all Mississippians, consider any unfavorable views by "outsiders" harshly. Yet, the cultural perspective Rubin brings to this work is its most redeeming feature: That he would be surprised that racism was alive and well in 1989 (or 1995), that Jews had thrived in the Delta since before the Civil War and that football would be so important that it would embrace and then discard young people at will. His digressions provide mordant revelations, even if they don't always appear to register in his wider perspective. In that, this pales in comparison to another book which mixes sports, history and sociology: H.G. "Buzz" Bissinger's "Friday Night Lights." (A side note: If you have not read the book, see the movie first. The film is outstanding on its own merits, well acted and directed, but a familiarity with the subject diminishes its appreciation due to the slight - although not essential - tinkering with the context.) Both books hold up a mirror to a society, and in neither does the object appear as the one reflected wishes or believes. Bissinger's view is less genial than Rubin's, but, then again, the former wrote from greater experience. "Confederacy of Silence" would have been more compelling had Rubin not squandered the six years in between his initiation into reporting - which he admittedly may lack the heart to sustain as a profession, although he has sufficient talent - and developed as a journalist to provide a broader viewpoint and more skillful analysis of both people and events.

This is not the kind of book I usually pick up. I only did so based on the strong recommendation from a friend. How glad I am I did. Right from the Prologue (not even as far as Chapter One!) I was riveted, and even if I could only read one chapter a night, I was hooked until I finished it. Rubin is a tremendously skillful writer. I loved his wry take on his situations he found himself in. I admired his bald honesty about his encounters and himself, even when they were clearly painful revalations. I could picture myself in his shoes. I was shocked with him, bemused with him, disgusted with him. And I was totally blown away at the conclusion -- I never saw it coming. I cannot believe this is his first novel -- and I eagerly await his next masterpiece.

I didn't know what to expect when I started reading Confederacy of Silence, but I immediately found myself drawn into the world of Greenwood, Mississippi. I'd never been to the deep South, and never known well anyone who was from there. I was charmed, repelled, and amazed by Greenwood -- and shocked that within this country of ours there exists a place so different from any I've known. I felt like the author took me right to Greenwood in 1988 and left me there for a year!

One passage I liked in particular is the account of the author's trip from Memphis to Greenwood by bus. We all have times in our lives when we experience the trepidation of starting something new, be it college or a new job, but the courage involved in making a move like this, sight unseen, knowing no one -- truly amazing, and beautifully written as well.

I'm not a big football fan, but my attention never flagged. I found the trial so suspenseful that I couldn't take it -- I actually skipped to the end to read the verdict! (Note: I don't recommend doing this!)

I loved this book because it gave me a window on another part of the world, then drew me in and showed me how you can at once love people and hate their prejudices; it expanded my view of the world. Anyone who enjoys a well-written story will love this book.

This book is an extraordinary mix of suspense, humor, history, and sociology, seasoned with football, racism, Court TV, and violence. I found it to be an intensely personal account of the author's experience in Mississippi. The characters are rich and the story is shocking and fascinating. The author is a nice Jewish boy from New York who takes his first job out of the Ivy League as a sports reporter on a small Mississippi newspaper. From his arrival on a Greyhound bus he is clearly naïve to the Mississippi of the 1980's, but grows to know the people and ideas very well indeed. I loved this book and recommend it strongly

A friend lent me his copy of this book, and from the minute I began reading it that evening, I simply couldn't put it down! (I have since bought my own copy and have recommended it to just about everyone who would listen to me.) I wasn't sure I'd enjoy it, since it's not the kind of book I'd normally choose for myself. But from the very beginning I was hooked, and spent every free moment I had reading until I finished - and then I was sorry I was done! Rubin's writing is truly addictive, and you are immediately swept up into the story, almost as if you had been there yourself. Each chapter brings an interesting story, a new discovery, or a bit of history that helps the reader put Rubin's experiences into the larger picture.

This is certainly the kind of book you'll want to devour as soon as you begin reading. And isn't that the very best kind of book you can imagine?

With the subject matter available to Rubin, this could have been a fantastic book. The first half of the book details Rubin's move to the Mississippi Delta from NYC shortly after graduating from college. Rubin works as the sports editor for a small daily paper for almost a year. The second half of the book details Rubin's return to MS several years later to witness the murder trial of a former high school football star (Handy Campbell) whose exploits Rubin chronicled during his days at the paper. Throughout the book, Rubin uses Campbell, who is african american, to contrast the disparate treatment afforded to individuals in Mississippi based upon the color of their skin.

Unfortunately, the author's righteousness gets in the way of his story. Rubin takes every opportunity to contrast his enlightened stance on the subject of race relations with the overt racism displayed in the small MS community. While it is easy to accept the prevalence of such racism in the Delta, Rubin's narration grinds to a halt while he repeatedly conveys his disgust at the attitudes displayed by the white folks in Mississippi. He would have done much better to let the story speak for itself.

Another gaping flaw is that everything Rubin observes that does not make sense to his "Ivy League" sensibilities he chalks up to racism, usually based upon flimsy (or no) evidence. Campbell does not make the football squad at Ole Miss or MSU after graduating from high school. Why? Racism. The white prosecutors in Campbell's murder trial do not crucify and badger defense witnesses on cross examination. Rubin's conclusion? It is because they don't care about the life or death of the accused (or victim, who is african american): again, racism. Rubin's depiction of the trial is particularly egregious -- as an attorney, I found it offensive that Rubin characterized many of the prosecutor's tactics as racist, simply because Rubin does not understand a thing about evidentiary rules and trials (which is clear from his narrative).

In short, if you are interested in this subject matter, I suggest you find another book.

In "Confederacy of Silence," Richard Rubin has written an intensely personal book that also examines what may be the most inescapable undercurrent in American society. For me, his introduction to small-town newspapers was pretty intensely personal, too. I went directly out of college to a small southern town daily with a circulation about the same size as the Greenwood paper's.

Unlike Rubin, though, I was a southerner, and the impact of the rule of councils, boards of supervisors, and in general the folks who had always been on top of local society was what I felt most.

Perhaps the strongest scene in this very powerful and fascinating book is when Rubin goes to Handy's house for lunch, after his trial. He realizes that the young man was not in any way what he thought, and probably never had been -- and the writer is very, very frightened. I think white southerners of a somewhat earlier generation always knew that on some level, and hence the controls exerted by those who had always been on top. The book makes clear that racism is more complex than most people think, and therefore much harder to eradicate. Someday we may all be able to look clearly at this issue and deal with it, but as Rubin points out, we weren't there in the '80s, and we aren't there now.