Relegated in many instances to the status of conquered subjects, private citizens found even the singing of Dixie an arbitrarily punishable offense by federal authorities in certain areas of the vanquished states of the former Confederacy. BUT . . . just as a gold coin possesses an intrinsic worth apart from any monetary standard set by government, so could no edict hope to suppress Dixie's popularity, whether it was sung as a party-tune, a nostalgic lament, or (as was often the case) an anthem of pride and defiance. And so when Reconstruction finally ended, Dixie would emerge unscathed and deeply etched into Southern, and even American, culture. In fact -- reminiscent of the early War years -- an occasional desire to write new lyrics would flare up (and most often die out just as quickly).

One of the more publicized attempts at change had a connection with the United Confederate Veterans (UCV). Itself a consolidation of several independent veterans organizations which sprang up in the South after reconstruction prohibitions were ended, the UCV was founded in 1889 and would, several years later, father the United Daughters of the Confederacy and the Sons of Confederate Veterans. Devoted to camaraderie, the caring for ailing Confederate soldiers, their widows and orphans -- and of course, keeping alive the memory of the Confederacy -- these groups flourished across the region in the late 1800's and well into the 20th Century (the latter two thrive today, in fact).

In any event, The Confederate Veteran magazine (a publication closely associated with the three societies) began a campaign in 1915 to adopt words of a more dignified sort -- a rationale strikingly similar to those of earlier days -- and set the song up with an air of Southern glory and patriotism "more in the spirit of the Confederacy." But the vast majority of the veterans and their sons and daughters of the time apparently had little desire to discard Daniel Decatur Emmett's original, and the matter was finally dropped. *

But not all the changes suggested in the lyrics were of Southern dimension. In a little known tidbit which could potentially have had benefit or consequence on a much larger stage, the tune was once actually submitted for consideration as the official national anthem of the United States of America! This came about in 1917 when, lacking such, an earnest endeavor to adopt a national anthem began. Suggestions poured in from all over the country, and one woman, a certain Mary Lowe Woods Orvis, put forth the idea that the following words be adopted and set to the music of Dixie.

There's a land we love with deep devotion,
Pilgrim-sought across the ocean,
All the way, USA, here us say, thine for aye!

'Tis a land of milk and honey, And free to all,
From every race they've sought this place,
To live or die for freedom.

Oh Lord, most high, keep this the home of freedom!

This submission in itself contains elements of both fitting irony and poignancy in the realm of a re-united country. Emmett was a staunch Union man and once bitterly lamented that his composition would make its most lasting mark as a Confederate song. Yet, Southerners clung tenaciously to his version of the masterpiece, while the writer himself would later come to regard his former enemies with forgiving fondness. Retiring to a farm near his hometown of Mt. Vernon, Ohio, he was persuaded in 1895 to undertake a two-year farewell tour in both the North and South. In the latter he was greeted with particular enthusiasm replete with standing ovations, reportedly breaking into tears on several occasions, so affectionately and warmly was he received.**

As time marched on, Dixie would enter the "pop" culture as defined, and hardly could Emmett have foreseen that one day he and his magnum opus would become the star in a medium his own generation could not have imagined existing. In 1943, Paramount Pictures produced a film (appropriately titled Dixie), starring Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour, the plot of which was ostensibly a "biography" of the famed musician's life as it led up to his composition and performance of the song. Although highly fictionalized as a life story, the final scene, which devoted itself to Dixie's original Southern debut in New Orleans in 1861, brought together a masterful mix of vocals and instrumentation, encapsulating a vision of what history would record as an event of near riotous proportions!

And, of course, there aren't many true Southerners who cannot recall the opening segments of Gone With the Wind, and the scrolling words accompanied by a haunting and hymn-like rendition of Dixie:

There was a land of cavaliers and cotton fields called the Old South . . .

Dixie would also manage a place in the wide world of sports. Although, interestingly enough, like the song itself, football had northern origins, it wasn't long before it became a regional obsession in the South, with high school and college teams from Virginia to Texas adopting the "Rebel" mascot and taking to using Dixie as a fight song (although, sadly, certain sensitivities in the modern-age would lead to dropping both from the rosters in many locales).

Country music and the genre known as "Southern Rock" are perhaps Dixie's most undiluted public haven, with sampler plates including the full length (Lee Greenwood), theme-oriented (Johnny Horton, Dwight Yokum, and Lynn Anderson), or as musical effect (Lynyrd Skynyrd, Alabama, and Hank Williams, Jr.)

As a staple of Southern family reunions, dinner-on-the-grounds, or piped in over the crackly loudspeakers at county fairs amidst the good smells of cotton-candy and the crunch of peanuts on the walkways, a list of all the places where Dixie has lived, lingered, or remains in the post-War years, would be impossibly lengthy to pen, but one of the many facets of its appeal lies in that it is appropriate for almost any occasion by virtue of the fact it can be set to just about any tempo. To a martial strum, a little old lady will drop her knitting and fetch her Confederate granddaddy's musket from the closet. An upbeat, lively pace -- with cymbals crashing and bass horns blasting (such as in Mitch Miller or the Ole Miss band's masterful renditions) -- will cause the most pedestrian of old men to forget the remote and jump up dancing a jig and hollering a Rebel Yell (dentures or no).

And when done slowly and mournfully, any Southern-listening audience may be moved to shed the type of tears that comes when music taps into the essence of the heart.

A true Siren's call, Dixie’s lyrics and tune combine such an exquisite blend of the simple and sublime that it is its own excuse for being. And the highest praise the song can be given will not be found in the written or spoken word . . . but in its unsurpassed appeal to mass emotion. And so, reader, listen for a minute, will you?

Born in the heart of the Deep South, the singer's first name would become the most recognized in musical history. It all began in Tupelo, Mississippi, then on to Memphis, Tennessee. His signature song fit him as perfectly as did his jewel studded jumpsuits. The song premiered live in 1973 as an "aloha" from Hawaii and then, in 1977, at his final concert, before the stage lights faded forever, it was the last song the King would ever sing. ***

In an emotionally packed rendition evocative of roots and melancholy and a proud history, from there to eternity, his incredible, unforgettable voice would almost caress the opening lyrics . . .

Oh, I wish I was,
In the land of cotton,
Old times there are not forgotten . . .


To Dixie. With Love.

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