In Hawks on Hawks, Joseph McBrideninterviews the director; the commentsnand analyses Hawks brings to bear on thensubject of moviemaking are consistentnand of a piece: his approach is pragmaticnand businesslike. These statements sumnup the cinematic philosophy of Hawks innthe most concise way: “Our job is tonmake entertainment. . . . You aren’tngoing to get enough money to work withnunless you get it out of universal entertainment.n… I’ve worked on the profitsnof my pictures . . . so I’m damned interestednin how much they gross.”nHawks’s emphasis in his work was alwaysnon the highest quality of aaftsmanshipnand so his movies lack the self-consciousnessnof the products of most of today’sndirectors—who perceive themselves asnartists. (Hawks refers to “pictures” orn”movies,” never to “films” or “thencinema.”) The only message he endorsednwas to entertain, an attitude that appearsntime and again in his conversations herenand which assured him consistent boxofficensuccess. It also contributed to thenuniversal appeal of his movies, whichntranscend time and so are as enjoyablenand fresh today as they were when firstnpresented. What was conceived as aaftsmanshipnendures as artistry. The fiisionnof Hollywood as both industry and entertainmentnwas not only the reality ofnmoviemaking but, judging by Hawks’sncommentary, the ideal as well. Thensystem was good: it worked, it producednthe largest number of successful movies,nthe ones the public wanted. In effect, thenfinancial failures were usually those thatnfailed to satisfy their audience.nJ. he pivotal differences, then, in thenattitudes of Louise Brooks and HowardnHawks can be encapsulated in two anecdotes.nBrooks, lacking any advancednformal education, was horrified that anjournalist who interviewed her fornPhotoplay was ignorant of and indifferentnto the existence of Martha Graham.nAs Brooks writes: “I didn’t realize thennthat this small cultural conflict . . . wasnmerely the first instance of the kind ofncontempt that was destined to drive menout of Hollywood.” Whereas Hawks,ncollege educated and perhaps more atnease with intellectuality, who mixednsocially with the best writers of his era,ncould only be amused at a similar lack ofncultural awareness. On a hunting tripnwith Clark Gable and William Faulkner,nthe talk turned to writing. “Gable askednFaulkner who the good writers were.nAnd Faulkner said, ‘Thomas Mann,nUncle Sam’s Other ProvincenA Band of Prophets: The VanderbiltnAgrarians After Fifty Years; Edited bynWilliam C. Havard and Walter Sullivan;nLouisiana State University Press;nBaton Rouge.nRegionalism and the South: SelectednPapers of Rupert Vance; Edited by JohnnShelton Reed and Daniel Joseph Singal;nUniversity of North Carolina Press;nChapel Hill.nby Clyde Wilsonn1 he intellectual history of the SouthnIS yet to be written. By this statement Inam bootlegging in two premises. First,nthat there is such a thing as the Southnwith a distinctive history. Second, thatnSouthern history includes an intellectualnlife worthy of study. Though persons cannbe found to controvert the first premise,nthey can easily be dealt with: their position—thatnthere is no distinctive Southn—is essentially either perverse ideologicalnreasoning (the South is bad, thereforenits existence must be discounted as a temporarynaberration) or materialist reductionismn(the South doesn’t exist becausenit can’t be counted).nConcede, then, a distinctive Southernnhistory, but what about its intellectualnlife? Here it is harder to make headway.nThat the South has, throughout its exis-nDr. Wilson is professor of history at thenUniversity of South Carolina and associateneditor of Somhein Partisan.nnnWiUa Gather, John Dos Passos, ErnestnHemingway and myself.’ Gable lookednat him and said, ‘Oh, do you write, Mr.nFaulkner?’ And Faulkner said, ‘Yeah.nWhat do you do, Mr. Gable?’ ” AndnHawks adds with amusement, “I don’tnthink Gable ever read a book and Indon’t think Faulkner ever went to seena movie. So they might have been onnthe level.” •ntence, had a life of the mind importantnenough for historical attention is not annuncontested thesis. Even many who arenaware of the importance of 20th-centurynSouthern literature are not aware of ornnot willing to concede anything of importancenbefore this century. Thisnscholarly consensus is mistaken. RichardnBeale Davis, in his immense work IntellectualnLife in the Colonial South,nproved both the presence and the distinctivenessnof a life of the mind in thencolonial-era South. The 19th-centurynSouthern intellect still awaits its greatnhistorian, but he will appear. That intellectnis underrated simply because it isnunknown. Everyone thinks he alreadynknows what the writers and thinkers ofnthe Old South had to say, so nobody hasnever bothered to read them. Sooner ornlater someone will; Jefferson and Poe,nGeorge Washington Harris and JoelnChandler Harris, William GilmorenSimms, John C. Calhoun and others willnbe woven together into a meaningfulnpicture. When that is done, at least twonthings will be established. First, thatnthere was no great discontinuity in valuesnbetween the Jeffersonian generation andnthe Confederate generation of Southerners,ncontrary to what has so often beenndeclared. Second, that the 19th-centurynSouthern mind was quite the opposite ofnits currently popular image—that it wasnclassical rather than romantic, criticalnand ironic rather than simple and hyperbolic.nBut that is another story.nThe 20th-century Southern mind hasn• H I M B S SnDecember 198Sn