THERE STANDS in the Grove of Academe, or so I have often imagined, a certain idolatrous image. It is a crane-like creature with italic wings, the great god Ibid., and before it, strutting on their tiny six-point feet, the pedant peacocks daily make obeisance. They look up, supra, and down infra, and spreading their tails with asterisk eyes, they march with robed scholars to lay garlands of op. cit. upon the ritual shrine.
When I launched into this book, I swore a blasphemous oath upon such phony veneration. After a long life of reading footnotes, and reading them religiously, I have concluded that 98.2 per cent of them are so much flummery: They are showin' off befo' God. Thus I had not planned upon notes or bibliography, and this extended note is afterthought; it is the reluctant consequence of listening to beguiling editors. They said: Where did you get all this stuff? Whence these bizarre ideas? They said: Serious students will want to know where to get supporting material intended to prove (a) that you are a fraud, or (b) that there may be something to the Southern position after all. You ought to gird up your Gothic archness with a few flying buttresses of attribution. And in a moment of weakness, I said very well.
The figures on population, area, wages, housing, and the like, in the opening pages of this book, come primarily from the 1960 Census and the Statistical Abstract of the United States for 1961. The Census people have a diabolical genius for presenting their data in the least usable possible form, but they have a monopoly on the figures and no other source exists.
As for the nature of the South: Almost every Southerner who writes for a living at one time or another has wooed this elusive theme. I would suggest that a student start with W. J. Cash The Mind of the South, not because I agree with everything Cash had to say, but because his brief star flashed with a rare brilliance across the Southern sky. The