Atticus and Leland

I love to read, and I average about a book a week. Of course, being on sabbatical gives me even more time to read and I am busting the average this month with 8 completed so far. And this year, I am keeping a list of the books I read. I have promised to do this for several years, but I am actually doing it this year.

I rarely read a book more than once. There are some notable exceptions, however. The following is a list of books that I have read multiple times:

Disappointment with God, Philip Yancey
The Best and the Brightest, David Halberstam
Visioneering, Andy Stanley

And most recently, To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee.

What a great story…and a great movie starring Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch. Atticus is a man of tremendous character who swims against the tide of small-town, southern attitudes in the depression era (and beyond). He is full of wisdom and is highly respected by everyone in town, even when he has to oppose them.

There’s a great piece of advice for all of us page 59 when Atticus tells his daughter Scout to "delete the adjectives and she would have the facts."

One of the plots of the book revolves around Tom Robinson. Tom is a young black man who has been falsely accused of attacking and raping a white woman. The entire town wanted to skip the judicial process and simply lynch Tom, but Atticus stood them down on the courthouse steps late one night when they came to get Tom out of jail. In spite of Atticus' excellent defense, Tom had no chance with the all-white jury and they convicted him.

Every time I watch the movie or read the book, I get emotional during the scene at the end of Tom Robinson’s trial when Atticus is leaving the courtroom. His children have observed the trial from the balcony with the Negroes who were there to support Tom. I will let Scout pick up the narrative here:

“Atticus took his coat off the back of his chair and pulled it over his shoulder. Then he left the courtroom, but not by his usual exit. He must have wanted to go home the short way, because he walked quickly down the middle aisle toward the south exit. I followed the top of his head as he made his way to the door. He did not look up.

Someone was punching me, but I was reluctant to take my eyes from the people below us, and from the image of Atticus’ lonely walk down the aisle.

‘Miss Jean Louise?’

I looked around. They were standing. All around us and in the balcony on the opposite wall, the Negroes were getting on their feet. Reverend Sykes’s voice was as distant as Judge Taylor’s:

‘Miss Jean Louise, stand up. Your father’s passin.’”

Another thing happens when I read or watch To Kill a Mockingbird. I can’t help but see similarities between Atticus and my own father, Leland. Like Atticus, Leland took unpopular stands on behalf of the Negroes he worked with and who worked for him in West Texas. He told me of a time in Haskell when one of the white men in town was going to beat up the black man who worked for my dad at his service station. The man thought that the Negro had not shown him proper respect. He accused the Negro of saying “huh?” when he had asked a question. The white guy was going to “kick that N..’s ass.” My Dad told him he would have to kick his first. The man couldn’t believe my dad was defending a Negro, but the incident passed with everyone’s backside intact.

Several years later in Odessa, my dad had 5 full-service gas stations (Some of you have no idea what those are). He decided to put a black man named Wendell in charge of the one in wealthiest part of town. Everyone told my dad that he couldn’t do that and that it wouldn’t work. His response was something like “hide and watch.” And it did work. The people in the area loved and respected Wendell, as my dad did.

As a child, I used to spend a week or so with my grandparents in Breckenridge each summer. My dad’s mother used to take me to “town” with her. I was always embarrassed when she introduced me to the people in the stores. She would pat me on the shoulder as she said,

“Now, this is Leland’s boy.”

That doesn’t embarrass me anymore.