“AUTHOR TALK”

During Gene Kansas’s spring book tour for Civil Sights—a definitive history of Sweet Auburn, birthplace of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement (UGA Press)—he traveled to the venerable Books & Books in Coconut Grove, Miami, FL, for an author talk.

This was coming off the book’s Atlanta launch, which attracted 250 people to the Auburn Avenue Research Library for a spectacular, see-and-be-seen celebration that included a poetic blessing, opera singing, jazz, a reading, and a panel discussion. It was an electric Atlanta evening celebrating history, culture and the district’s positive impact on the world.

But the Books & Books event?

“There were six people and one dog who showed up at the author talk,” Kansas recalls. “Two of the people worked at Books & Books. So there were four people and a dog.”

But the small turnout was just fine with Kansas.

“I was as happy as I could be,” Kansas says. “Being beholden to numbers is a recipe for disappointment. Plus, that’s not the purpose. My personal goal is to have Civil Sights be a connection point for meeting people and having good conversations.”

As it happens, just moments before the Books & Books event, Kansas received a text that the National Endowment for the Humanities, and by extension Georgia Humanities, had been defunded by the Trump Administration.

“To me, defunding the humanities is defunding humanity,” Kansas says. “That is what the humanities are. It’s about understanding each other as humans. And that’s what the Books & Books event and conversation became about. And it was amazing.”

Civil Sights explores Atlanta’s vital role in civil-rights history through spaces and places—nearly 50% of the historic structures in Sweet Auburn have been lost since being designated a National Historic District in 1976—and the generations of people who came together there to make positive change. It’s also timely, given today’s social and political atmosphere.

Taking a breather from his tour-and-talk schedule and role as a leading historic preservationist, Kansas recently sat down at the Forth Hotel in Atlanta’s Old Fourth Ward to chat about the challenges of writing, helpful and inspiring people, historic preservation, the current state of our country, and what’s next.

Q: How are you feeling about the book and its reception?

Kansas: I feel good. The book was published in February, and it's been really successful. We’ve already sold through nearly two print runs, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m defining success differently than what I imagined it might look like in years past. It has become more and more clear to me that accomplishments need to be weighed by impact. Civil Sights is a touchpoint—to meet people, to have conversations, to go on adventures. And that is happening, and it’s cool, because I like people and learning and sharing, and because it’s fun to spend time in good conversation, especially when the discourse is centered around preservation through academic and cultural programming.

Q: What do you think about the current political, social, and cultural climate? What stands out?

Kansas: As someone who just finished writing a history book about the importance of civil and human rights, there are more than a few things that stand out. Broadly speaking, to see the attack on civil and human rights by the current administration, not just in this country but on organizations around the globe like withdrawing from the World Health Organization—well, that’s a major problem. If you’re suddenly pulling the rug out from under millions of children who are on the precipice of dying without this aid, then that’s a human rights issue. And it’s not just about physical wellbeing; blanket abuses are happening everywhere. Humanities organizations across the country are being defunded, schools are being threatened by intimidation, lawmakers are being jailed, other countries are being prodded for our own political delight. It’s wrong, and these actions are an affront to civil and human rights on a massive scale.

Q: Right now, the truth is under attack, and history is supposed to be the truth, right? And so, in that sense, our histories are under attack. Is that partly why you felt the need to put on the record an accurate history of Sweet Auburn?

Kansas: No, although I do believe accurately recording history is critically important. Sadly, the truth is fickle, because how you interpret "the truth" is absurdly subjective. But facts are facts. Trump conveniently understands and interprets the Constitution in a different way than I do, and when not ignoring it, he is using it as a tool to push his agenda, which seems to have a lot to do with payback and hubris.

But I didn’t write Civil Sights with this in mind. I’m glad, though, that I could contribute to the canon of thoroughly researched, well documented, and influential history written about Sweet Auburn, because this work allows readers—students, teachers, the voting public—to interpret facts and hopefully apply them in a positive way to the common good.

The reason I wrote Civil Sights is for the sake of preservation. To share the history of a world-renowned district superlatively suited to impart civil and human rights ideals, accomplishments, and lessons we’d be wise to consider as we navigate the future.

It was hard though. I found, through research and writing, people hiding or being hidden in history. You can’t just go out and easily access a comprehensive civil rights history, because women—especially black women and people of color—were not given credit where credit was due. History is exclusionary, and so how would you know?

I believe that if you asked a million people to name more than three women in the Civil Rights Movement, very, very few could do it, and it’s not their fault. It would be like asking me to tell you secret things from the secret societies of the Ivy League. While not completely unknown to history, they’re hidden from me.

Civil Sights aims to amplify these overlooked voices—the unsung, unknown, and underrepresented heroes and heroines of the movement—among other things.

Q: Let’s talk about writing. There’s the act of writing a book, but then there’s a decision to simply just embark upon it, officially. You know it’s going to take a good deal of time and effort, and there’s no guaranteed payoff, right? With that in mind, when did you earnestly sit down and start to work on the book, and what was the spark, the inspiration that made you act?

Kansas: Sometimes there are ideas that pop into your head when you’re lying down, staring at the ceiling at night, not sleeping. And sometimes you are walking or driving and see something that piques your interest. Other times ideas come from conversation. My earnest interest in Sweet Auburn started with hearing and reading news about the 2008 tornado that tore through downtown Atlanta, wreaked havoc, and ripped the roof off the Atlanta Daily World Building. And then, a few years later, I learned about the 1,100 people who signed a petition to deny the demolition permit applied for to tear the building down. Then it got incredibly interesting.

At that point, I saw the story. People deeply cared. There was a developer who wanted to tear down this historic building, a determined community that didn’t want it obliterated, and a city that stood behind the community to save it—a city that hasn’t had much of a problem tearing things down. Being from New Orleans, intimately experiencing the destruction of Hurricane Katrina, and seeing how quickly the landscape can change for the worse was motivating. I didn’t want to see the same thing happen to the birthplace of the Civil Rights Movement, which was and is possible if we keep tearing down our history, especially at this rate.

So that was the moment when I was like, “Okay, I’m interested in this.” Then a few years later, I met Alexis Scott, whose grandfather started the Atlanta Daily World newspaper, which had their offices there until the tornado hit. I went into her family’s building and saw an incredible history strewn across the floor—just a total disaster zone. As I learned more about Atlanta Daily World history, I realized, of course, that their story is part of a history called the Civil Rights Movement. And that history is, in fact, embedded in every building in this district. That visit initially moved me to lead a historic preservation of the building, and later—after learning more about the remarkable contributions to society that came from Sweet Auburn—to write this book. And then, after three years of writing, I realized my writing was horrible, so I put it down.

Q: What do you mean, it was horrible?

Kansas: I mean, the writing was extremely bad. I didn’t have a clear direction. It started out as more of a little guidebook. And it still is a guide, but it’s a very different type of book now. It’s a deeply researched and culturally enriching historic guide, instead of a “here’s a spot to grab a muffin” type of guide. You know, the Wildsam Field Guide series is fine and fun as a reference if you’re going to Austin for a weekend. But we’re talking about the birthplace of the Civil Rights Movement here. It needed to be much more.

But I didn’t figure that out, nor could I really deliver on it, until after Year Three. So I basically started over.

Q: What did that feel like?

Kansas: Daunting. I mean, I didn’t know what to do. Around this time, I was in grad school at Georgia Tech—and in my early 40’s—where I earned a Master’s in Digital Media, which was very helpful, because I started to learn more about researching and more about process and more about how to abstract and apply knowledge. That the program is based in the Ivan Allen College, home to the liberal arts at Tech, was a huge benefit and blessing.

And then I met Clay Kiningham, who created the sketches for Civil Sights, and his artwork inspired me. It was like, “All right, Clay’s here. I now have someone to be accountable to. He’s pouring his heart and soul into this thing, and his illustrations of the ‘civil sights’ are true works of art. I owe it to him to deliver.”

And then I met and hired Trevor Williams (Editor of Global Atlanta) as the editor, which changed everything because—are you ready? We created a table of contents and an outline! We met every Friday for two hours to review our work. I got homework and did it. In other words, we did the things you need to do to write a book, and he’s just good.

Q: Did you have to deal with some imposter syndrome, specifically around the fact that here you are a white developer, and you’re going into a historically Black community with a rich Black history, and you’re telling Black stories about the Civil Rights Movement? And if you did have that voice in your head, how did you deal with it?

Kansas: Yeah, it’s a great question. No, I did not feel like an imposter, in part because I had been working in the neighborhood for well over a decade at that time. In addition to commercial real estate work on behalf of clients in the district, my company helped lead the creation of the John Lewis HERO mural and had successfully led historic preservation efforts. What I did have, though, was a high degree of interest in wanting to be sensitive to other people and to history, and I had a high level of motivation to get it right and do it the right way. But I didn’t have imposter syndrome. I didn’t feel as if I didn’t belong there or shouldn’t write this book. I just thought, “You gotta get this right.”

I did talk to Gary Pomerantz, the New York Times best-selling author of Where Peachtree Meets Sweet Auburn, and I asked him, “Can a white person write this history? Can I write it?”

And he said, “Yes. Why not? It’s history. You’re a good writer.”

All that said, there are some people who aren’t huge fans of mine in Sweet Auburn. However, I don’t take it personally. There’s a good reason white developers are not to be trusted. We have a terrible track record. But there’s only been maybe three total people in all my years of working in Sweet Auburn that have ever said anything negative to my face.

Q: What do you say in that moment?

Kansas: “Sorry you feel that way.” But if someone’s asking a genuine question—like, you know, “What do you think about a white person writing about this history?”—I say that “I think it’s an important history, and it’s important to share that history with others so it can be preserved.” That’s the truth.

Q: Ultimately, if you haven’t done a particularly good job, then the book is not going to sell. The audience goes, “Oh, no, this isn’t the book for us.”

Kansas: Yeah, well, I’m so glad you brought that up, because it gives me the opportunity to talk about one of my favorite people, leaders, and subjects, Jackie Royster, who serves as the book’s cultural editor and my mentor. Jackie is a big reason I was able to do a good job.

Jackie was the dean of Ivan Allen College when I was a student at Tech. For years, I tried to convince her to become the cultural editor of the book, because I needed perspectives that I don’t have—like that of a woman, that of a Black woman born in the segregated South who happens to be the dean of a college and a rhetorical scholar and a linguist and the author of multiple books herself. And finally, after two-and-a-half years of me asking her to join, she said yes. I was humbled often. I saw a lot of red ink. Well, actually, she uses a variety of colors. Anyway, I would have gotten a lot wrong—not just comparatively, but also through word choice. My interpretation of history changed a lot with Jackie’s help, and therefore my understanding of it also changed.

It wasn’t, though, until after the book was published that I realized I didn’t convince Jackie to be the cultural editor. Jackie became the cultural editor when she knew I was ready. I mentioned this to her the night of the book launch, and she kind of smiled and nodded with uplifting eyes. She is a world-class mentor to me, and really to everyone she meets in some form or fashion.

Q: You already touched upon Clay Kiningham’s illustrations of the buildings, but why was it important for you to include sketches as opposed to photos or no art at all? What do they specifically bring to the work?

Kansas: I love photography, it can be stunning and quite moving. But you’ve got to go out and license or get photography, which is an operational headache, limited for our purpose, and prohibitively expensive the way we would need to do it.

But I didn’t have the idea to go out and hire Clay. I had nothing, really. Then, I was fumbling around at my desk, not working one afternoon, scrolling on Instagram, when I saw his work. And it turns out he was also at Tech. I was like, “Oh, man, I’ve got to meet him.” And then I ended up meeting him that very afternoon at Starbucks about a block from my office and hired him on the spot, because I immediately saw the connection and the potential. I knew what he would bring to the project.

Then I had this huge, revelatory moment when I read the book Here Is New York by E.B. White, and specifically White’s interest in never updating that book because—and I’m paraphrasing—he said the second that he finished it, New York would change a million times. The book captures an exact moment in history and in time. It stands as a record that can be revisited, and, if desired, can become a report card for the future to see how well we did in the past.

For Sweet Auburn, through Clay’s black and white illustrations, we see the beauty and flaws. One of the reasons I like his work is that it shows those flaws. The telephone wires. The broken glass. It shows the weeds coming up through cracks in the sidewalks. Plywood that’s falling down. And it accentuates incredible architecture; it’s showing something real as a snapshot in time with a vulnerability and intimacy. It’s beautiful and meaningful at the same time.

I think it accompanies the text well. And when you put them together, I hope people think, “Oh, wow. This is alive. It’s a history, but it’s also a story that’s unfolding before us.”

Again, what will truly be important is the test of time. If we look back in 10 or 20 years, we’re going to read about Sweet Auburn history and its current state. And, importantly, we’ll see in the book, through Clay’s illustrations, what it looked like at the end of 2024, right? And then we’ll look around and I hope we say, “Oh yeah, we did a good job taking care of our history.”

Q: Is that your hope for the book?

Kansas: Yes. I mean, I want to preserve Sweet Auburn, you know? I don’t know at what point over the years this became incredibly obvious, but it’s like, if we don’t share the lessons learned, we are apt to repeat them. The more we share the lessons and the positive benefit of learning from the past, then the less likely we the people are to repeat them. Or so I would hope.

Q: It's one thing to say that this book documents places in peril in Sweet Auburn. That’s sort of like a high-level pitch of the book. But if you can talk specifically about certain places in the book, or maybe one place that at once has a vital historical interest to the community, but very well might be endangered, what would that be? And what would that mean to the community?

Kansas: There are buildings—places in peril—that are in complete states of disrepair that, probability-wise, have a greater risk of not being here in a year.

The Atlanta Life Building would be the one I would be most interested in preserving at this exact moment. Because of what it means historically—what it has to do with Alonzo Herndon, and his ties to the Niagara Movement, to entrepreneurship, opportunity, and leadership—as well as the safety net Atlanta Life provided to Blacks by providing insurance...and through that business, the financial independence it afforded to Blacks that allowed for upward mobility, in organizing and having funding to do things like build houses, churches, schools, and the neighborhood itself. And that success ultimately led to Herndon’s son, Norris, and Atlanta Life CEO Jesse Hill Jr., anonymously funding the Civil Rights Movement. The combined effort was instrumental to success well beyond Auburn Avenue.

But today, this building is crumbling, and I am pretty sure there are homeless people living inside of it. And when it gets cold, those people need to be warm, and without HVAC a fire keeps you warm. And that’s a bad combo for any building, especially an abandoned one.

If that building were to be lost it would be tragic, and the land would either sit vacant, or more likely bought for some new construction building. Either would further and significantly fracture the historical fabric and integrity of the district. Not to mention, the building is beautiful.

For these reasons, I think Atlanta Life would be an important one to save. I have heard that the current ownership is working on this, and I sincerely hope they are extremely successful.

Q: Atlanta has had a big part in the history of our country, from the Civil War to civil rights to being a business epicenter of the South. What is Atlanta now to you, and what would you like to see it become in its next iteration?

Kansas: I think today, at its heart, Atlanta is a city of neighborhoods made up by people. It sounds simple, but it’s also true. Not every city can say that. So, I think the more we can celebrate and preserve our neighborhoods and build up history instead of building over it, the better. It makes us special, and it’s full of character, color, and fun with lots of opportunity to be more and more connected.

And it’s a big, big city now—like, when I moved here, it wasn’t this big. It was one-seventh the size. A million people, and now it’s seven and a half million. But it was also more segregated. I see that changing. That's a good thing. Another good thing, how fortunate are we to have been in Atlanta so long and experienced the change? Especially since, for the most of our time here, the Braves have been winning!

Q: What are you working on next? A new book, something else?

Kansas: I’m on a bit of a break, because to finish something that’s highly creative and all-consuming like a book or a historic preservation or a development there’s that real kind of depression and exhaustion that follows, and I’m just coming out of that.

I think that’s why I’m gravitating toward moving into what we call “The Shed” at Elizabeth & Edgewood in Inman Park. It’s a historic preservation project in the form of an urban oasis surrounded by nature. Sounds good, right?

I was sitting in The Shed yesterday with Todd, our interior designer, and he said, “This is so great. You can’t see it, but you can imagine that there could be a mountain right over there. There could be a river.”

In other words, E&E is an escape, a peaceful place in the heart of the city. You can’t hear any cars. You can’t see anyone. You hear birds and some church bells. You see an expanse of green space. Beautiful magnolias. You drink a coffee. That’s it.

That’s what’s next for me—hanging out in a tin shed, drinking coffee, listening to music, thinking about the future, and maybe doing some writing. We’ll see.