Falls (Coastal Plain)

Falls, inspired by Allan Gurganus’s hometown of Rocky Mount, is the setting for several of his works, including his debut novel, Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All, and his 2013 novel, Local Souls, from which this excerpt comes:

Falls. N.C., is the largest town in the Falls, N.C., area—A mere crossroads in 1824, its cotton mill brought 1850’s commerce. Producing Confederate uniforms, the mill was burned by Northern invaders in 1864. Rebuilding began immediately. After Appomattox, many freed slaves chose to simply stay put. Our town has long been known for its sociability, its many churches, its gala annual dances called "June Germans" (held in tobacco warehouses and featuring often nationally-known bands).

Everybody here, black and white, inherited a little something. Right away we’d reinvest. Many bright people—born in Falls—left home early. Elsewhere they do get famous faster. Still, we’d brag, "Sat behind me in third grade. Borrowed notebook paper, daily." Falls has given the world a jazz saxophonist, a musical comedy star and one major general. The world prefers such city celebrities. But, even now, we think the Lord is quickest to forgive us local souls.

We Bible believers—punctual, steady— were maybe always likeliest to stay (in Falls). Our town, with thirteen more churches than car dealerships, wants its citizens optimistic if stationary. Was it really even our choice? Hadn’t our temperaments decided? Or getting deeded land that, being highly-local, encouraged staying. If a person doesn’t truly fight gravity, it wants you right where you have been.

Falls stands thirty miles from other towns. Once renowned for our tobacco auctions, we’ve lived to hear ourselves dismissed as "the Smoking Section." Being a farm-sized city-state, we do take care of us. We’re rarely unintentionally rude. We still tend to worship our doctors and diagnose our preachers. We pledge allegiance to what some children here call "one nation under God, in the visible." Quick to smile "Prettiest morning ever!" we try to hide our doubts till each day’s cocktail hour.

And yet, till right here recently—Hurricane Floyd and its terrible flood—we hadn’t really known that dying meant us.

Read more about Allan Gurganus: http://www.nclhof.org/inductees/2010-2/allan-gurganus/