Pat Conroy's Past Haunts, Inspires

The Sun News

Pain has a permanent place in Pat Conroy's past.

His inner child knows it's the monster under his bed.

"I think a troubled childhood is like carry-on baggage because it follows you everywhere, and I don't think I will ever get rid of it," Conroy said during a telephone interview with The Sun News from his home on Fripp Island. "I'm 63 years old, and I'm still worried about my childhood. It seems ridiculous to me."

He realizes, however, the burden he can't bury has made him who he is today -- a national bestselling author whose books create big buzz and hit the big screen.

"Pat Conroy is sort of the godfather of Southern fiction," said Tom Warner, owner of Litchfield Books in Pawleys Island where Conroy will appear from noon to 3 p.m. Saturday for a signing of his latest book, "South of Broad." "He is probably the most famous and well-known writer in the South."

His fans do cherish him. They call him a master wordsmith, a genius of description and character development.

"I just love Pat Conroy," said Patty Snyder, a fan who lives in Georgetown.

"I think 'South of Broad' is his best yet. I had a million things to do, but I couldn't put it down."

The book tells the story of a Charlestonian named Leopold "Leo" Bloom King, a lonely and troubled high school senior who becomes a part of a close-knit circle of friends. Their bonds endure time and testing. The ultimate test takes them to San Francisco to find a friend who is missing.

In reviews by critics and fans, it has been noted repeatedly that in Conroy's latest book -- his first novel in 14 years -- the daddy in the story is a likable, lovable and life-affirming father. This is a Conroy first in a novel.

In "The Great Santini," Conroy painted a gruesome picture of a father. It was a thinly-veiled autobiography with a fiction label, and it caused a big stink. Some of Conroy's kin felt betrayed.

"My family went nuts," Conroy said. "My father went crazy. My father's parents never spoke to me again."

He had told how his muddy childhood soiled him with sadness and revealed how others got dirty, too.

"Ours was a troubled family," Conroy said. "Ours was a dangerous one, and the secret I had to hold was that my father beat up my mother, he beat up my brothers, he beat up my sisters and he beat up me. I held that secret as long I could."

Conroy said the abuse he and his family suffered at the hands of his Marine father was worse than what was described in "The Great Santini."

"My editors said, 'Nobody can be this bad,'" Conroy said, "but a lot of us live through stuff that is worse than editors can imagine."

His dad, now deceased, would tell people Conroy had a vivid imagination.

During signings of "The Great Santini," Don Conroy would sit next to his son and write, "I hope you enjoy my son's work of fiction."

"He would underline fiction five times," Conroy said.

Once he told his dad, "If you had beat me up much more, I would have been Shakespeare."

His father laughed.

His father cried uncontrollably, however, in 1994.

That was the year Conroy's younger brother, Tom Conroy, committed suicide. Don Conroy wept at the funeral.

When he and his five siblings witnessed their dad mourning, they realized he did indeed love them.

His father, who died in 1998 at 77, is the main character in the book he is working on now called "The Death of Santini," its working title.

"What shocked me about my father after The Great Santini -- he hated that book so much -- he set out to prove me wrong," Conroy said. "He was the worst father, but in the last years of his life he tried hard to be a good father and he managed to become one. He had a great last 10 years."

Since he portrayed his dad honestly in "The Great Santini," Conroy said he owed him another book "about the father who had the ability to change."

It was that dad who Conroy grew close to, the one who treated his four daughters like royalty and the one his children worshipped.

That new man who became his father was a key reason why he has some peace about his past.

Conroy has joy.

He adores his wife and fellow author, Cassandra King.

His four daughters and seven grandchildren are loves of his life.

He has stepsons he really digs.

Cooking is a pleasure for him. He's a cookbook author who loves chilled cucumber soup with dill and the seafood of Beaufort.

Conroy's life is OK, but denial isn't in his DNA.

"I don't think," he said, "that you can ever walk away from your childhood."

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