A Fayette County Mayor in King Louie’s Court

This column typically explores the Southern language, but today it makes a brief departure into another aspect of what “talking Southern” means, and that is the telling of stories.   The story of one Fayette diplomat’s 1957 journey to France ought to be a good topic of conversation, for it certainly caused a lot of talk among Southerners, most of whom initially reacted with what poet G. W. Carryl termed, “one brief, emphatic word not fit for publication.”

What happened was this:  as the Marquis de LaFayette’s personal bicentennial approached in September 1957, a hands-across-the-sea initiative  was begun in which all (or at least most) heads of government of U.S. towns and counties named for LaFayette (or anything to do with him, such as LaGrange, Georgia, which was named for his wife’s country estate) were invited to France for a celebration.  LIFE Magazine covered the journey richly in its September 23, 1957 issue, the rather racy cover phot of which is reproduced below in case anyone wishes to go online and buy one from several sources. 

Varney Graves (1909-1991),  who was then mayor of Fayetteville, was Fayette County, Georgia’s ambassador for the trip.   Varney, a local son who had shown promise early on, graduated from Georgia Tech in about 1930 with what your compiler  understands was the highest cumulative GPA ever earned there, at least at the time.   He moved up north with an international conglomerate, where he flew pretty high for a quarter-century or so.   But as the story goes, his association with John Barleycorn cost him his career, and he moved his family back to Fayette County, got a teaching job at the local high school, ran for mayor, won, and assumed office just as the hands-across-the-sea initiative was getting started.

So off Varney goes for France.  He looks fairly subdued coming off the airplane with other U.S. dignitaries (he’s the third dignitary up the stairs from bottom right, and his head is turned about a quarter-turn toward the left, where apparently the nearest watering hole was located.)

But turn the magazine page (your compiler is blessed to have a copy of that issue – his family never threw anything away) and you’ll find the photo which caused a run on the Fayetteville post office, more entry-level cussing than any event in recent memory, and which ruined any future Varney may have had in politics.   It’s in the photo montage at the end of this article. 

In it, Varney poses nekkid as a jaybird – it’s cropped, thankfully; the uncropped version, which your compiler has seen, is way, way, way too much picture! – drunk as Cooter Brown, grinning like a jackass eating briers, and waving a French flag.  And his chest hair – goodness!  Makes one wonder whether the cameraman quoted the same Carryl poem quoted in the opening paragraph of this article:

‘J’admire,’ said he, ‘ton beau plumage.’

(The which was simply persiflage.)

But regardless of the cameraman’s poetic sensibilities (or lack thereof), what an embarrassing way for Fayette County to have been noted in the national press!

To Varney’s credit, though, he brought home a number of souvenirs from that LaFayette celebration, many of which now reside at the Fayette County Historical Society.   But in spite of a fellow’s treasure-preserving ability, there are just some things he can never live down, and for Varney, that hot tub picture in LIFE was one of those.

Your compiler has often heard that in the South, we don’t hide crazy.  We parade it out on the front porch, put it in a rocking chair, and give it a cocktail.   In France, they apparently liquor it up, strip off its clothes, hand it a flag, and put it in a hot tub.  Vive la France!  And Vive le Varn, or at least his memory!  He made the biggest splash (literally and figuratively, come to think of it) of any mayor Fayette County has ever had…or is ever likely to, and Ferrol Sams immortalized him as Eustace Pilcher in Down Town.  Oh, but of course!   All Sambo’s writings were fiction, so your compiler guesses he’s wrong on that last count.

Another Fayette County Mayor in King Louie’s Court, ever?  “Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore!’”