Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

The author does not reveal too much about himself. The reader quickly learns that that prior to writing this book, Berendt was a magazine writer and editor living in New York City. During a weekend trip, Savannah and its eccentric stories captivated the author, who soon set up a second home in the city. Once he moves to town, he quickly makes friends and gains the confidence of different people: high and low society, black and white, the powerful and the powerless, the old and young. His tone is impartial as he collects information from all he meets without judgment, even during some of the more outlandish episodes: “I would inquire, observe, and poke around wherever my curiosity led me or wherever I was invited. I would presume nothing. I would take notes” (36). This professed lack of an agenda emphasizes a desire to soak up the intoxicating strangeness that he finds in Savannah without imposing an outsider’s agenda. However, the more Berendt gets to know the characters in the book, the more involved he becomes in the story, despite his insistence that he is simply an “observer of the local scene” (310). This draws into question the narrator’s unrecognized bias in depicting the events and characters.

While Berendt clearly enjoys the beauty of Savannah and the eccentricities of its characters, especially in Part 1, Berendt more deeply explores the social stratifications in Savannah integral to the trial in Part 2. Berendt spends much of his time attending the trials and interviewing Williams and his defense attorneys. He grows close to Williams, even accompanying him to a graveyard at midnight to participate in a voodoo ritual meant to help his case. While proclaiming an objectivity concerning Williams, Berendt’s intimacy with the accused continues to raise the question of his ability to remain neutral. Furthermore, it seems clear that many in Savannah are aware he is writing a book. Odom solidifies this:

‘Ah, then you must be the new Yankee I’ve been hearing about. Nothing escapes our notice, you know. Savannah’s a real small town […] Now, as for you, I should tell you that you’ve already aroused a fair amount of curiosity. People think you’re writing an expose about Savannah, so they’re a little wary of you. You don’t need to fret about that, though. Secretly they all hope you’ll put them in your book’ (48).

With this knowledge, readers must decipher the extent to which the characters are candid with Berendt. In turn, Berendt’s motives as a storyteller remain on the forefront, causing readers to question Berendt’s professed blurred lines between fiction and nonfiction.

Hansford is 19 when Williams shoots him, causing his death. The author’s only encounter with Hansford is the wild outburst at Williams’s home when Hansford demands money from Williams. Berendt is shocked that Williams allows this profane young man with the Confederate flag tattooed on his arms free range in Williams’s beautiful home. But after Hansford’s murder, the sexual relationship between the two men becomes public knowledge. Hansford was a hustler, paid for sex by both men and women.

The defense team provides many witnesses proving his lifelong violent nature. His own mother had a restraining order against him. Williams provides a whole chapter about Hansford (“Walking Streak of Sex”) based on what Berendt hears from an art student Corinne, who spent a day with Hansford, experiencing his powerful swings of emotions: passion, jealousy, violence, and remorse. Hansford had two natures—he could be sweet and funny, but in an instant, he could turn violent and dangerous. Even the coroner of Chatham County has little sympathy for Hansford, admitting, “Hell, I’d have shot Danny Hansford too” (202), a sentiment many Savannah residents share.

The prosecution argues against Williams’s portrayal of Hansford, stating that Hansford was simply too naïve, despite his violence: “He was a pawn, nothing more or less than a pawn in a sick little game of manipulation and exploitation” (229). Two juries side with this interpretation, another jury is unable to reach a unanimous decision, and a fourth jury decides against this interpretation. It’s up to the reader to decide how to sift and weigh the evidence about Hansford, Williams, and the rest of the book’s characters. 

Odom is a charming con man who finds ways to take up residence, legally and illegally, in mansions. He supports himself by providing tours and catered lunches to gullible tourists, who believe whatever bogus claims he makes about his home. His doors are open to all, as he hosts round the clock parties, searching for someone he can scam to make money. Despite Odom’s cunning behavior, the people he cheats can’t help but submit to his charm.

The author clearly enjoys Odom’s entertaining presence from their first meeting. Odom immediately makes Berendt feel welcome, not only in his home but also to his city, Savannah. He provides Berendt with an introduction to Savannah, giving him some tips to help him get to know others, such as, “Always stick around for one more drink. That’s when things happen. That’s when you find out everything you want to know” (48). Eventually, his humorous commentary on the progress of Berendt’s book shows an intimacy with the author, even though Odom still refers to Berendt as a “Yankee” outsider.

And yet for all of Odom’s friendliness and openness, Odom can be crude and offensive when referring to some of the people whom Berendt has been interviewing: “First you take up with folks like Luther Driggers, who’s main claim to fame is he’s gettin’ ready to poison us all […] and now you tell us you’re hangin’ out with a nigger drag queen” (124). While the author clearly enjoys Odom’s charm and humor, making him a spokesman for the progress of his book, Odom’s use of racist language makes the reader question his judgments, especially on race. When Odom announces that “we don’t do black-on-white in Savannah […] especially black male on white female” (54), it makes the reader further question his use of the “we.”