Flannery O’Connor writes to the playwright Maryat Lee, explaining that she cannot meet James Baldwin in Georgia, her home state, due to his race.
To Maryat Lee
[April 25, 1959]
No I can’t see James Baldwin in Georgia. It would cause the greatest trouble and disturbance and disunion. In New York it would be nice to meet him; here it would not. I observe the traditions of the society I feed on—it’s only fair. Might as well expect a mule to fly as me to see James Baldwin in Georgia. I have read one of his stories and it was a good one.
I am just back from Vanderbilt and have had enough of writers for a while, black or white. Whoever invented the cocktail party should have been drawn and quartered. It was a good symposium for the most part but one year is enuf [sic] for me.
Thanks for asking your broker but it doesn’t look like I am going to have any money any time soon to invest. My cousin left me a house in Savannah and I am now learning what all it needs; among the items is a new roof. When you clip your cool coupons, think of me coping with my hot renter. I just had to buy a $129 hot-water heater for the other tenant who, bless his heart, isn’t but two months behind in his rent…
Incidentally, I have a friend in Tennessee who would like to meet James Baldwin I am sure. His name is Brainard Cheney and he is writing a novel set in interracial circles in New York. So last month he took a trip to New York where he has a lot of liberal abolishionist [sic] friends to get them to introduce him to some interracial society. He stayed two weeks and pulled all his strings and wasn’t able to meet one Negro socially. Well, at least down here we are benighted over the table not under it. If he comes to New York again, I’ll get him to call you and maybe you could scout up a few. But don’t worry, he’s not coming. I think he’s decided to rely on his imagination.