Gone with the Wind

St. James Encyclopedia of Pop Culture, Jan 29, 2002 by Mary Hess

Gone with the Wind, the epic Civil War-era novel and film, described as "the romance of a baggage and a bounder," has no peer in literary history when its longevity and profitability are considered. Beloved by readers and filmgoers throughout the world for over sixty years, Gone with the Wind continues to captivate audiences and generate profits, and for many Margaret Mitchell's novel supersedes history in depicting "the War Between the States." Called racist and inaccurate by historians who find its sugarcoating of the Old South and the Ku Klux Klan appalling, nonetheless it has created an industry of literary and commercial output that shows no sign of slowing down as Gone with the Wind approaches its 70th anniversary. Its appeal is worldwide, and the epic is particularly popular in Japan, Germany, and Russia, perhaps indicating that Gone with the Wind has a special resonance for nations who have experienced defeat and occupation. The ur-text of "The Lost Cause," Gone with the Wind's most powerful moment comes when a famished and exhausted Scarlett, defiant, vows: "As God is my witness, I won't let them lick me! If I have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill--I'll never be hungry again!"

The author, Margaret Mitchell, reluctantly allowed her manuscript to be published in 1936, and then was stunned and overwhelmed by its success. The book has sold more copies than any book besides the Bible, and won the Pulitzer Prize in 1936, a sensation in Depression-era America. The film adaptation premiered in 1939 to immediate acclaim, culminating in 10 Academy Awards. Gone with the Wind reigned supreme as the box office champion until the 1970s and remains the most popular film of all time (when dollars are adjusted for inflation). As with the novel, the love story of Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler has fared less well at the hands of some critics, notably author Lillian Smith, who described the novel as "slick, successful but essentially mediocre fiction. . ."; [Gone with the Wind] "wobbles badly like an enormous house on shaky underpinnings." Despite its flaws, what is obvious is its staying power, proof of Gone with the Wind's timeless appeal for its fans.

Gone with the Wind is a rich, sentimental, and starkly partisan story of a Southern belle, charming and selfish, who recklessly pursues the wrong man (the genteel Ashley Wilkes) throughout the narrative which spans the Civil War and Reconstruction, marrying three times, enduring war, famine, and personal tragedy. At the story's end, after the death of the saintly Melanie Wilkes, who resolutely loved Scarlett despite her pursuit of her husband, she finally recognizes that her now-departing husband Rhett Butler is indeed her true love. Rhett, weary of her contrivances, answers her heartfelt "Oh, where shall I go, what shall I do?" with one of the best-known exit lines in literary history: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Not be outdone, Scarlett sniffs a bit, then declares brightly: "I'll get him back ... I'll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day!"

Much has been made of the connections between Scarlett, the flirtatious and determined heroine, and her creator. Margaret Mitchell (who had first named her character Pansy) was a young reporter who stubbornly went her own way throughout life: routinely flying in the face of Atlanta society, marrying (and divorcing) the unsuitable and abusive Red Upshaw, then marrying his best friend, John Marsh. Marsh is best known for his literary midwifery: he brought a typewriter to his restless wife, then mending from an accident, and suggested she write her novel. From these modest beginnings came the phenomenon of Gone with the Wind: "I would go to the apartment and frequently she was at that little table where she worked," recalled Harvey Smith, a friend of Mitchell's. "We all joked about it: 'Well, you know she's writing the world's greatest novel.' ... And, by God, she was."

Peggy Mitchell furtively wrote her epic novel in a tiny, cramped apartment in a down-at-the-heels house in midtown Atlanta; she affectionately called the place "The Dump." While Mitchell drew on her own life to create her characters, her primary inspiration was her family lore: her mother Maybelle and particularly her grandmother Fitzgerald were her models for Scarlett. Mitchell's Irish Catholic background allowed her to further enhance her tale; a successful immigrant plantation owner, Gerald O'Hara rebukes his frivolous daughter and evokes her spiritual connection to Tara, the family plantation. "Why, land's the only thing in the world worth working for, worth fighting for, worth dying for, because it's the only thing that lasts" is the unifying theme of Gone with the Wind.

Ignoring the standard wisdom that Civil War films were "box office poison," producer David O. Selznick fought to bring the novel to the screen, and in wheeling and dealing in pursuit of his goal lost the majority of the financial rights to the film to MGM in return for the coveted services of the "King of Hollywood," Clark Gable. The film's pre-production has generated legends of its own, from the discovery of the manuscript by Selznick assistant Kay Brown (sold for a record $50,000) to the "Search for Scarlett"--a publicity stunt dreamed up by publicist Russell Birdwell, a nationwide search for the right woman to portray Mitchell's heroine. The episode was portrayed amusingly by Garson Kanin in his novel and television film Moviola: The Scarlett O'Hara War (1979 and 1980, respectively). The screen tests of actresses famous and on the rise are an indication of how fiercely this battle raged in Hollywood: Paulette Goddard, Bette Davis, and Alabama-born Tallulah Bankhead claimed they alone could portray Scarlett, and even arch-Yankee Katherine Hepburn was discussed. Although there is considerable dispute about the way Selznick found Vivien Leigh, the exquisite British actress who would win an Oscar for her portrayal, the legend is that Selznick's brother Myron, a leading agent, brought Leigh to the set of the "Burning of Atlanta" scene, arguably the most famous sequence of the film. "I want you to meet Scarlett O'Hara," said Myron, as the flames consumed old sets and illuminated Leigh's lovely face. In fact, she had been brought to his attention earlier, but the contrived "introduction" may indeed have persuaded Selznick, as he confided to his wife Irene in a letter, calling her "the Scarlett dark horse--she looks damn good."