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Grit of Craw by James W. Johnson

Purvis Moody, the brightest student at a South Georgia high school and the son of a poor sharecropper, sets his sights on valedictorian and a journalism degree.

About the book

Most folks, including many of the teachers at Gradyville High School, believed a good education was wasted on the likes of Purvis Moody, the oldest son of an incredibly poor sharecropper. The odds of him attending college lay somewhere between nil and none, but that didn't eliminate the fact that he was the smartest student in his class with an I.Q. orbiting somewhere out there near Pluto. Nor did it deter him from his dream to be the valedictorian of his graduating class and the first in his family to attend a college.

Getting from Gradyville High School in deepest South Georgia to journalism school at the University of Missouri was like running the obstacle course for Special Forces with barbed wire entanglements, explosive booby traps and .50 caliber machine gun fire with every step. But with the help of one sympathetic English teacher and more than his share of grit in the craw, Purvis did qualify to be the class val in 1945, only to see it pulled away by a group of prejudiced teachers and a hard-core, spare-the-rod-and-spoil-the-child principal.

Purvis was a high school freshman on December 7, 1941, the day the Japanese attached Pearl Harbor and all the laughter stopped. World War II blanketed the world with dark shadow. However, the war brought with it a pin point of light for Purvis in something called the G.I. Bill of Rights. For three years of military service he could qualify for a four-year college education provided by the G.I. Bill.

Still under age at graduation, Purvis was one signature, his dad's, away from spending three years in the United States Marine Corps when an anonymous benefactor came forth and provided a grant-in-aid for Purvis to attend journalism school at the University of Missouri.

However, there was one stipulation. Purvis was never to know who bestowed the grant.

About the author

James W. Johnson is an award-winning journalist. Growing up on a jungle island off the coast of Florida where the favorite house pet was the family alligator, he was certain he was Tarzan. His pet alligator was named Bob, which quickly outgrew the young boy and took to the swamp, seldom to be seen again. Convinced gators showed no hint of loyalty, he got a turtle named Pete, which grew until he was large enough to ride like a Shetland pony. Then one day he, too, galloped off into the sunset. That's when he finally turned to a baby brother, named him Cheeta a'la Tarzan's pet chimpanzee. However, he was never able to teach the brother to swing on wild grape vines. So, he gave up on pets and turned to school.

Following high school, he enlisted into the Marine Corps, saw combat in Korea, which, in time, led to a career in newspaper journalism, positive it was better to be a spectator and tell the story than to be a participant and be part of the story. He was educated at Pasadena (California) City College and Los Angeles State University.

Starting his newspaper career as a copyboy with the Los Angeles Mirror, he soon became Sports Editor for a small daily, The Moultrie (Georgia) Observer, before returning to California to take a job as Sports and Farm Editor at the Turlock Journal in the Central Valley. At the San Bernardino (California) Sun he wore a number of different hats, Night Sports Editor, Military Editor and finally Entertainer Editor. A short stint with the Jackson (Mississippi) Clarion Ledger as Sunday Editor saw him return to California to take jobs at the Chino Champion (Managing Editor), Orange Coast Daily Pilot (Features Editor) and finally, the Los Angeles Daily News (Feature News Editor).

He has won a number of writing awards, but the one he prizes most came to him from Lincoln University in Missouri for a series he wrote on the plight of the High Desert Indians in California. It was titled "An Unfulfilled Promise."

He now lives in Las Cruces, New Mexico with his beautiful wife, Patti. Still, no pets.

Archived from the Harris Literary Agency website. The agency's listing is reproduced as published, with contact details removed.

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