Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

“I suspected that in Savannah I had stumbled on a rare vestige of the Old South. It seemed to me that Savannah was in some respects as remote as Pitcairn Island, that tiny rock in the middle of the Pacific where the descendants of the mutineers of the H.M.S Bounty had lived in inbred isolation since the eighteenth century. For about the same length of time, seven generations of 3-Savannahians had been marooned in their hushed and secluded bower of a city on the Georgia coast.” 

The author’s discovery of exotic Savannah stands in contrast to the sophisticated New York where he is from. While New York is international, open to influences from every part of the globe, Savannah has walled itself off from outside influences. While this makes Savannah provincial and full of snobbery, the author says that this same seclusion has allowed for a peculiar and rich environment to thrive, a place unlike anywhere else in the world.

“Lady Astor, passing through in 1946, remarked that Savannah was like ‘a beautiful woman with a dirty face.’ Stung by the criticism, a group of concerned citizens began in the 1950s to restore Savannah’s downtown. Their effort resulted in the preservation of Savannah’s historic district.” 

A small group of Savannah residents strived to preserve the city’s historic downtown buildings, catalyzing a rebirth in Savannah pride. Lady Astor’s simile, comparing Savannah to a beautiful woman with a dirty face, is conventional, defining women’s value through her beauty. And yet, it is the woman who has the power to clean her face. While many of the “bachelors” were responsible for renovations, it was a group of women who first got together to fight the demolition of historic buildings, creating the Historic Savannah Foundation.

“The stream of people going in and out of Joe Odom’s house seemed to pick up tempo in the weeks after I met him. That might have been because I had joined the flow myself and was now viewing the phenomenon from midstream, so to speak.” (Chapter 6, Page 77)

When Berendt moves to Savannah and immerses himself in the daily parties at Odom’s home, it raises the question of the author’s objectivity. While his role in the story is as a reporter and interviewer, Berendt’s own participation in his story brings him into close relationship with some of the main characters. Although Berendt relates that Odom is a con man, his main emphasis is on Odom’s charm and likability. In this passage, Berendt acknowledges that the lines between “outsider” and “insider” blur as he acclimates to Savannah’s society parties. 

“‘I told you I could dig bein’ in disguise,’ she said. ‘I’m in disguise twenty-four hours a day. I am incognito.’” 

Lady Chablis is one of the most memorable characters in the book. She is a drag queen performer at local clubs; her disguise is so masterful that the author doesn’t realize she is a woman until Chablis reveals that her name used to be Frank. While her comments are often witty, mocking, and incisive—showing her tough exterior—Chablis also reveals that her disguise is necessary for her safety: “If I went out without my drag, honey, those rednecks would clock me for the big sissy I am and kick my ass. I am serious” (105). Chablis’s commentary reveals the prejudicial undertones that color Savannah’s society.

“‘But it’s starting to look like our costars are going to be nothing but a bunch of creeps. We need to do something about that.’” 

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil includes Odom’s running commentary on the progress of Berendt’s book. Odom correctly assumes that the book Berendt is writing will both be a big hit and become a Hollywood blockbuster. This metacommentary shows an awareness of the author’s process from the characters themselves. This raises questions regarding the validity of the book’s accuracy. Odom, like the other characters, may be performing for Berendt. In turn, the author may be constructing the book’s events to make for a better story

“‘I ain’t got nothin’ to live for.’” 

Hansford’s voice is powerful, and this quote provides a small glimpse into his character. Many Savannah locals dismiss him as merely a violent drug addict to justify Williams’s shooting of him. However, Hansford is also a man of despair and unrecognized dreams. His greatest hope is that Williams will buy him a grand gravestone when he is dead: “There was nothing joking or boastful in Danny’s voice. He was simply speaking his mind” (136). Hansford’s morbid outlook reflects the oppression of Savannah’s social hierarchy: Only in death can Hansford hope to attain a symbol of status

“‘So Lee Adler is one of Savannah’s elite. At least, you would think so. But he isn’t really, is he? In Savannah we have our little way of drawing the line—of saying, You shall come this far and no farther, you are not really one of us. We have the Oglethorpe Club as our way of saying this. And we have the yacht club.’” 

This excerpt depicts Savannah’s pecking order and focuses on the Adlers, who live in a grand home on Monterey Square, just as Williams does. Like Williams, they are rich and well known for their work in the historic preservation of downtown Savannah. And yet, Savannah socialites have kept the Adlers out of the uppermost heights of society, such as the Oglethorpe Club and the yacht club, because they are Jewish. This anti-Semitism pushed the Adlers, and others like them, even harder against the social boundaries established around them.

“‘Would you sign my book, please?’ A guest book lay open on a table in the living room. As I signed my name, I noticed that I was not the first outsider to be brought to this house by Lee Adler. A reporter from the Atlanta Constitution had signed a few spaces above.” 

After touring Ruby Moore’s home, Berendt recognizes a name in her guest book and realizes the host has entertained other reporters. Berendt questions how representative Moore is of Adler’s low-income housing and whether Adler carefully selected her as a model resident to showcase his successes. Such speculation highlights the prevalent theme of appearances vs. reality and draws into question who the author himself has chosen to include, and why, in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. 

“‘If a man lives in the grandest house in town and gives the most extravagant parties, he could easily come to believe he was superior. He might also think the rules for ordinary people no longer applied to him. Displaying a Nazi flag would be one way of demonstrating that.’” 

Williams’s character is difficult to interpret. He maintains that he hung a Nazi flag on his house to stop a rude film crew from filming his home without his permission, but it’s possible he did so to spite his Jewish adversary and neighbor, Lee Adler. The speaker, Joseph Killorin, suggests to Berendt that Williams’s actions reflect his desire to show off his superiority. Like Berendt, the reader must weigh the evidence about these characters.

“He was directed to appear for a hearing in court. Depending on the outcome of the hearing, he might or might not be indicted for writing worthless checks—a felony punishable by one to five years in prison. On the day of the hearing, Joe strolled calmly into the courtroom twenty minutes late. Before taking his seat, he ambled over to the bench where the plaintiffs were sitting and greeted each of them.” 

Parallel with Williams’s murder trial is Odom’s trial for the lesser crime of writing bad checks. The interlude provides a bit of comic relief, as Odom greets his accusers in such a friendly way that the accusers look like the guilty party. And when one of the accusers needs help with his lawsuit, it is Odom, the defendant, who steps up to help in what seems to be a sincere gesture. Unlike Williams, however, Odom escapes from his brushes with the law with minimal consequences. The narrative implies that Odom’s charming disposition is the reason for his social and legal success.

“She had signed the note ‘Fondly, Emma.’” 

Williams points out the hypocrisy of manners when Emma Adler, his enemy, writes a note offering to help Williams in any way. Williams sees the insincerity immediately, as he knows that the Adlers have no interest in helping him. They actively support the prosecutor Spencer Lawton, who is working hard to lock up Williams for life: “In Williams’s view, Lee Adler controlled Spencer Lawton” (306). Emma’s inclusion of “fondly” indicates the propensity of Savannah residents to maintain a façade of pleasantness, regardless of transparency.

“‘He put a little ad in the paper, ‘Antiques for Sale,’ and you’d be surprised. The ladies from Macon would come to Gordon and get him out of high school! The superintendent was so impressed. They were high-class ladies—doctor’s wives and so forth—and James would bring them to the house, and they’d buy things right out of his bedroom! He worked his way up. Bit by bit, all by himself.’” 

Even as a young boy, Williams had a strong entrepreneurial spirit. His mother proudly recounts how he got his start at the age of 11. He was able to work his way up from humble beginnings to the great wealth and prestige he has enjoyed for over the past decade. His sudden reversal of fortunes, which land him in a jail cell, is shocking, but Williams’s mother has great faith in her son and in his ability to rise up from adversity. This anecdote demonstrates how Williams is unlike the other wealthy Savannah residents, who inherited their money and status. 

“Married and with two children, he was stomped to death in a darkened parking garage by four US Army Rangers. […] They enticed him into a parking garage and beat and kicked him so brutally that an expert in trauma injury testified that when the victim arrived at the hospital he was ‘probably the most mutilate person I have ever seen still alive.’ […] The sentence was one year in jail with the possibility of parole in six months.” 

This horrifying event is a shocking indictment of the justice system in Savannah and shows that “juries in Savannah don’t seem to mind seeing homosexuals get killed” (204). Also, the prosecutor in the case was Spencer Lawton, and his widely publicized loss in this trial has driven Lawton to work all the harder in his next case, the case against Williams: “It would be a means of redeeming himself, if he won” (209). This violent precedent reflects the rampant biases that permeate the picturesque Savannah society and suggests that the jury will have little sympathy for Williams, a low-key homosexual.

“‘I’ve seen you taking notes […]. You doing legwork for the defense?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s just for myself.’” 

This courthouse regular notices Berendt as a new fixture in the court and questions him about his role. This inquisition brings the author’s positionality to the case to the forefront and draws in question Berendt’s motives for documenting Williams’s trial. Although the author here claims his notes are for himself, the reader knows that Berendt’s notes become the basis of his novel.

“‘I know absolutely nothing about Mr. Williams’s private life.’” 

During the trial, two young men provide the graphic testimony that Williams paid Hansford for sex. After, Mrs. Alice Dowling, the late ambassador’s widow, takes the stand as a character witness for Williams. However, Mrs. Dowling is unaware of Williams’s homosexual proclivities. Her proper appearance and speech stand in stark contrast to the prior witnesses. Both testimonies reflect the duality of Savannah’s society, which blends propriety and disrepute. This scene supports the theme of appearances vs. reality.

“The enormity and suddenness of Williams’s downfall shocked Savannah.” 

Most of Savannah expected the court to acquit Williams, who has the money and resources to mount an aggressive defense. The prosecutor Lawton is not well-respected, especially after having lost the notorious Rangers case. In addition, Hansford was a “nobody” according to Savannah’s status machine: “At best he was a nameless presence” (128). Power and wealth usually ensure protection and privilege in Savannah, and this Southern society is shocked when money and power are unable to redeem Williams. The narrative also implies an equal disappointment at the loss of Williams’s elitist Christmas parties. 

“‘Men from Savannah’s good families are born into a pecking order they can never get out of,’ he said, ‘unless they leave town forever. […] When people like that see somebody like me, who’s never joined their silly pecking order and who’s taken great risks and succeeded, they loathe that person. I have felt it many times. They don’t have any say-so over me, and they don’t like that at all.’” 

Williams has gained admittance into many of the elite circles based solely on his success. Ironically, just as his enemy Adler felt excluded from the uppermost levels of society due to racism, Williams is excluded because he wasn’t born into one of Savannah’s “good families.” This makes Williams defiant, saying that his exclusion is a sign of strength because it shows he is a risk-taker, not one who passively follows the established order. He blames his conviction on the Savannah elite, who have punished him for being an outsider. 

“Danny Hansford’s mother, Emily Bannister, also sits in the corridor. Sonny Seiler has listed her as a defense witness, just as Bobby Lee Cook did, in order to keep her out of the courtroom. She is quiet and composed, and it strikes me that Seiler’s main concern is not that she will cause a disturbance in front of the jury but that her waiflike appearance will win their hearts. In any case she still refuses to talk to the press (or to me).” 

The defense’s exclusion of Hansford’s mother from the courtroom is a desire to prevent any sympathy for her. However, Bannister also refrains from communicating with Berendt, essentially forfeiting her voice and her perspective of her son. This excerpt demonstrates Seiler’s cunning as well as further commentary on how appearances lend a heavy hand to Savannah’s social politics.

“In the absence of its master, Mercer House assumed a ghostly air. The interior shutters of its great windows remained closed against the outside world. The gala parties were over. The elegant guests coming up the walk in evening clothes were only a memory now.” 

In the wake of Williams’s conviction, socialites mourn as the biggest annual party in Savannah is now just a memory. Just as Savannah has closed itself off from the outside world, the Mercer House has folded in on itself, preventing prying eyes from peering into its secrets. Of course, this is the point of view of the elite who once attended such parties. For African Americans, their debutante ball has always been the same night of Williams’s party, and that party continues without interruption. For the marginalized members of Savannah, nothing has changed. 

“‘You know, robins move houses. […] They eat chinaberries, and then they drop the chinaberry seeds near the foundation of a house. A chinaberry tree grows there and uproots the house.’” 

Williams believes in the power of invisible or small forces to create huge changes. His prominent magical thinking stems from his experiences, as his life has been one of incredible changes. He is a self-made businessman who built a successful foundation from practically nothing. As a child, he began his entrepreneurial pursuits with local treasures he found at garage sales, which he then polished into gleaming artifacts of desire and sold. Williams sees himself as both powerful and underestimated, like the robin. He uses this metaphor to suggest that despite his unfavorable circumstances, he will prevail and uproot the case against him. 

“Intending to clarify the matter, the city manager, Don Mendonsa, announced that a breakdown of police figures showed that crime in Savannah ‘is a black problem.’” 

When the FBI names Savannah as the murder capital of the United States, there is understandable concern from the community. In attempt to assuage that concern, the city manager shows that “91 percent of the murderers were black, and 85 percent of the victims were also black” (333). Mendonsa dismisses concerns related to the statistics with the implication that since blacks are killing blacks, the whites need not worry themselves about the report. While Mendonsa points to the racial inequalities that contribute to those numbers, Berendt obtusely focuses on the harmonious relationship between the races, observing “little hostility” of blacks toward whites. However, Berendt uses superficial examples of whites and blacks greeting each other on the street as the basis for his conclusion. Additionally, when he points to Savannah’s history of slavery, he includes William Thackeray’s similarly superficial observation that “slaves had smiles on their faces” (333). Although Berendt briefly acknowledges the underlying reason for the high murder rate: “Savannah’s blacks were beset by an anguish and despair that ran […] deep and expressed itself with […] violence” (334), racial “anguish” is not integral to the broad picture he creates of Savannah.

“My guess was that Williams was using me to float a trial balloon. His new story fit the evidence well enough, and it preserved his claim of self-defense. But it was too convenient, too neat, and too late to do him much good.” 

Williams admits to Berendt that he has lied in his past two murder trials. He gives a new version of events that now seems to “fit” all the evidence against him. But as soon as Seiler reveals new evidence that makes this truthful version no longer necessary, Williams keeps silent, and only the author knows this new “truth.” Berendt’s “insider” positionality continues to raise the questions of the author’s role in creating the story as well as his relationship to Williams. As Berendt blurs the lines of fiction and nonfiction, he also straddles the roles of both an observer and an active participant. 

“So Augusta had its sophisticates and its cruder elements. But when the selection of jurors began, it became clear that whether they lived on the Hill or in the swamp, Augustans all had one thing in common: They had never heard of Jim Williams.” 

Augusta has not been treated to the spectacle of the three past trials, and no one there knows of Williams or his past. The jurors there encounter the case for the first time, and they need less than an hour to weigh the evidence and determine a verdict. The hasty “not guilty” verdict calls into question Savannah’s bias against Williams. The excerpt implies that the most significant element of the Augusta jury’s decision-process is that no one knows Williams personally, thereby indicating that Savannah’s judicial system is not impartial.