Mary’s Vindication, Pt. 2

Dear Snouts,

So far I’ve been through five states: Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina. I’ve seen a small chunk of the Appalachians and right now I’m in Erwin, TN, which, although it may not sound glorious, is probably one of the last surviving small towns. It’s located right in the center of the Smokey Mountains, and the scenery is gorgeous. I’m exhausted, having driven for at least seven good hours from Milledgeville. The tea went well, and I think I got a good general understanding of how O’Connor conferences must be like and of the conditions at Andalusia.

I’ve got so much to tell you, fellow Snouts. First of all, I’m definitely on the right track. Despite the fact that many Erwinians have, in the past, claimed that Kingsport, a nearby town, was the one responsible for the death of Murderous Mary, I have gathered from three rather trustworthy sources that the hanging of the elephant Mary did, in fact, occur in Erwin and that her grave is located in an unknown position beneath one of the railroad tracks. One woman, a photo worker at the local Walgreen’s, told me that Mary was sure to have “suffered deeply” and that the town of Erwin has kept her burial place a secret so no one will dig her up just to look at her massive sized bones (Mary was, according to the circus, the largest elephant in the world). Another two workers, blondes with rather pronounced smiles and big, wavy hair, referred me to the local library and the chamber of commerce. Also, they informed me that the Hanging Elephant Gift Shop has gone out of business. It’s been replaced with a thrift store. Still, the store might be able to tell me something about Ruth Piper, the owner of the Elephant Gift Shop and self-proclaimed Mary aficionado. If I could only find Ruth… As I was leaving, they giggled and told me “Good luck!” in rather unusual tones I was unable to decipher. Strangely enough, when I first told them I was looking for Mary (whispered, actually, because I don’t want everyone to know I’m a tourist), they also used the words “suffered deeply.” I’m wondering if this is some sort of catchphrase the people of Erwin have become accustomed to using. I hope so, for that would mean that they have already accepted and repented of Mary’s death.

Oh. I almost forgot! The girls also spoke about their basketball trips to other schools. According to them, the opposing teams usually printed off flyers of Hanging Mary and placed them on the windshields of cars all over the parking lot. Photos of Mary also usually end up all over the bus. Apparently Erwin is mocked quite frequently for hanging the elephant. No wonder no one wants to talk about it too much. With the upcoming play and a possible novel, Erwin might be in for even more publicity.

So tomorrow I set off to downtown Erwin to discover as much information as I can. I’m going to begin by searching the library for articles. Wish me luck! I’ll have lots of pictures for you. In the meantime, here’s a piece from an article about Mary. I hope to clear some of this up starting tomorrow, sorting through fact and legend:

Big Mary was buried in a big pit in front of the railroad shop doors. Erwin, which has had time to reflect on this, does not want the grave marked. It would rather not be known as The Town That Hanged The Elephant, and the Chamber of Commerce is very particular about assigning blame. “We killed the elephant, we do not deny it,” they admit. “But it was NOT OUR FAULT.”

On Highway 23, the Unicoi County Heritage Museum displays newspaper clippings from the period and sells a book that tells the Big Mary story. “It is true. It did occur,” says the curator. “But, quite frankly, the town is not real proud of it.”