First and foremost, this book would not have been finished if not for Steve Cavandish. I don’t know what to say that would convey how grateful I am. He called me at a low point when I didn’t see any way to finish the book, asked me what I needed, and then hung up on me. Twenty minutes later he called me back with a workable plan.
I’d like to thank Dr. Benjamin Houston for his support. Every time I’ve emailed him and given him an update on this project or asked his opinion on something, he’s given me wise council, good advice, and enthusiastic encouragement.
I’d like to thank Congressman Jim Cooper, Lisa Quigley, and the rest of his staff. Without Congressman Cooper’s intervention, the Looby bombing file would still be missing and people would still be told it had been destroyed.
I’m very grateful to all the folks at Third Man Records: Chet Weise, Jordan Williams, Amin Qutteineh, and Ben Swank, all of whom have been so enthusiastic about the project from the start. Sheree Renée Thomas, Siobhan Boroian, Anthea Gwynne, Caitlin Parker, and Sydney Bozeman and others I’m sure I’m forgetting.
I’d also like to single out Dr. Rachel Martin, whose advice to not get too hung up on John Kasper too early or I wouldn’t see what was really going on kept me digging.
I’m very grateful to Daniel Jackson, who has worked on similar cases in Chattanooga. We shared files and bounced ideas off each other and I can’t say enough how helpful it was to have someone else as deep in the weeds as I was to help me think things through.
I had been thinking that it goes without saying how much help I received from the Nashville Public Library, but this book is a testament to the fact that if you leave something obvious unsaid, eventually it becomes unknown. So, my deepest thanks to the Nashville Public Library and, specifically, Andrea Blackman, Chi Amaefula, and Beth Odle. Beth’s expertise in the Banner photos, especially, was so very helpful. I’d also like to specifically thank the people in the Nashville Room, who are jewels in the crown of the city: Linda Barnickel, Courtney Buggs, Kathleen Feduccia, Dixie Rose Johnson, Deborah May, Karen Piper, Tasneem Tewogbola, and especially Elliott Robinson. Sorry if I told you the same stories fifty million times, Elliott.
I’d also like to thank Tricia Gesner at the Associated Press who was so generous with her time and expertise. Over and over again, I’d email her something along the lines of “Hey, I see you all have a picture of this guy, but do you have one where he’s facing the camera more straight on?” or “Here’s so-and-so in a group shot. Do you have one of him alone?” and she would come back with exactly what I needed, often two or three options.
We are very lucky to have so many resources here in town and I would especially like to single out the Tennessee State Library and Archives.
Early versions of a lot of this material appeared at the Nashville Scene. I deeply appreciate their support over the years.
Special thanks to Tom Wood, who pointed me toward the FBI file that made everything in the book click into place.
I’m also deeply grateful to the staff of Vanderbilt University Press, who have been so supportive. Thanks, especially, to Zack Gresham for helping me read smoothly.
The list of people who’ve helped me on this project and to whom I owe a debt of gratitude is extensive: Kim Baldwin, Demetria Kaledemos, Hal Hardin, Keel Hunt, Daniel Harper, Henry Martin, Gladys Girgenti, Learotha Williams, Crystal DeGregory, Linda Wynn, Ludye Wallace, Eric Etheridge, Rip Patton, Sgt. Gary Smith, Stuart Wexler, David Garrow, Diane McWhorter, Carter Newton, Michele LeNoue-Newton, Samantha Yeargin, Amy Chau, Rich Blecker, Carolyn Cusick, Sara Harvey, Margaret Renkl, Elizabeth Duke, Gilbert Fox, Larry Brinton, Alex Little, Cari Wade Gervin, DeLisa Harris, Caroline Randall Williams, Ciona Rouse, Clive Webb, Michael Newton, Andrew Maraniss, Frederick Strobel, Debie Cox, Larry Woods, Saralee Woods, Gail Terry, Caroline Eller, Brian Mansfield, Ken Whitehouse, Chicoya Gallman, Ansley Erickson, Daniel Horowitz, Wayne Dowdy, Jim Baggett, Gordon Belt, Jerry Mitchell, Gary May, Nina Melechen, Barry Mazor, Chase Stejskal, Bart Phillips, Holli Phillips, Ben Phillips, Courtney Phillips, and my parents, who worried.
Though he is not here to appreciate it, I want to acknowledge that I would not have been able to finish this book without also having the sculptor, William Edmondson, to research at the same time. To be able to stop and spend time looking at a man who loved his family and his community and who used his gifts to improve their lives was a sanctuary during this. Because Nashville is a small town, still, there is actually an Edmondson connection to this story. His supervisor at the WPA was Jack Kershaw.
Here’s a funny story about William Edmondson and Jack Kershaw that is on the verge of being lost. It goes like this: William Edmondson, the greatest sculptor in Nashville in his day, carved a statue of a boxer. Supposedly, he was quite proud of the statue and brought it in to work to show known white supremacist, Jack Kershaw. Jack allegedly said, “That’s pretty good. What’s it called?”
Over the past year or so, I’ve seen art historians start to call this statue “Joe Lewis,” and I assume that’s because Edmondson carved hair on the statue. I also assume it’s because they didn’t know who Edmondson was talking to. Because the story as I’ve always heard it is that Edmondson told Kershaw the statue was called “Jack Johnson.”
Joe Lewis was a great, legendary, even, boxer. He was a hero both to Black and white America. Jack Johnson was the same age as William Edmondson. White people hated him and tried to find any excuse to discount his talent. Yes, he was bald, but for Kershaw to point that out would have meant acknowledging that he paid even a little attention to Jack Johnson. I think Edmondson was making a little dig at Kershaw, using the name “Jack Johnson” to signify art about a Black man at the height of his talent who was better than his white peers, made by a Black artist at the height of his talent who was better than his white boss. You switch the name to “Joe Lewis” and you miss some of the pride and rage and knowing simmering just under the surface of Edmondson’s comment to Kershaw.
Rest in Peace, Blackie Bromley. You deserved better.
I’ve been working on this project for a long time, so if I’ve left anyone off this list, please know it’s more that my brain was scrambled by this, and things have slipped my mind and not that I don’t appreciate your help.
I also had help from people who don’t want to be named or associated with the project. I’m still very grateful to them.