We recently connected with Jonathan Haupt and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Jonathan, thanks for joining us today. Can you share a story that illustrates an important or relevant lesson you learned in school?

Throughout junior high school and high school, I enjoyed writing–but I loved the sciences, and especially chemistry. In the lab, unlike in life, it seemed, there were solutions. Right answers. Overt successes and achievements. And that was tremendously validating to me, the opposite of the uncertainty I encountered in all other aspects of my life as a hopelessly awkward and painfully shy kid. So, I thought that would be my path through college and into my professional life as well: a degree in chemistry, a minor in English, and ultimately a job as a technical writer for a laboratory.

I attended the University of Tennessee Martin, a private school-sized campus of a public university at the West end of the Volunteer State. In my chemistry classes and English classes, I learned two things of essential importance: (1) I was a terrible chemist. Clumsy. Frustrated. Inefficient. Uncertain. My skill set in the lab had clearly peaked in my honors chem class in high school and had not spared me from the soul-crushing defeats of the organic chemistry classes of higher ed. (2) I was, however, capable of crafting fully rendered characters and settings on the page in my short stories and of conceptualizing grand, original concepts and criticisms in my essays. Moreover, I enjoyed the version of myself who was beginning to emerge in my writings. He was clever, funny, confident, and sometimes even quite charming. I wanted to learn how to be him off the page as well.

So, I altered my path, becoming an English major, with minors in chemistry and anthropology. Later, I added a second major in history–a field of study which I embraced as a series of stories and interpretive writings as well. I was enthusiastic to learn everything I could about how to make sense of the world–and ultimately how to help reshape it for the better–through the transformative power of stories.

My UTM honors English teacher Jenna Wright, British literature professor Dan Pigg, and professional writing and capstone research professor Lynn Alexander where especially supportive to me during those transitional years of my undergraduate experience, as I learned that writing was going to be my way of navigating the uncertainties of the world, and of giving purpose to my role in that world.

It’s been more than a quarter-century since I graduated from UTM. Afterwards, came my Masters degree in English literature and nearly 20 years in the business of university press publishing, leading me into the rewarding world of literary nonprofit leadership to which I commit my life now, as executive director of the Pat Conroy Literary Center, board member of several other literary organizations, volunteer book reviewer, and occasional freelance editor and publishing consultant.

I consider myself beyond fortunate to still be in the welcoming orbit of my undergraduate mentors. They also introduced me to the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville during my years in Martin. I’ve since become a longstanding presence at that festival: as attendee, then exhibitor, then presenting author, and to this day as on-stage/on-camera author interviewer. Moreover, the Southern Festival of Books has also given me an opportunity to see Lynn and Dan, and this year Jenna as well, each October. It’s a meaningful annual reunion which I’ve come to treasure. Lynn, now dean of Humanities and Fine Arts at UTM, has been a central force for good in the festival and its parent organization, Humanities Tennessee. Jenna served as English department chair before retiring. And Dan, ever the lifelong learner, has amassed more degrees than a thermometer. I’m tremendously proud to have been their student, and I strive to bring to my own students the same passion for education and commitment to intellectual curiosity which Lynn, Dan, and Jenna fostered in me many years ago.

At this fall’s Southern Festival of Books, I also had the welcome opportunity to introduce Lynn and Jenna to one of the stellar Beaufort High School students I’ve been honored to mentor, Holland Perryman, who is now a freshman at Vanderbilt, beginning her own journey of self-discovery through higher ed. That multi-generational mentor/mentee meet-up may well have been my favorite experience to date at the Southern Festival of Books. I already look forward to seeing all of them again next year.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your background and context?

I first came to South Carolina in 2004 as the newly hired marketing director for the University of South Carolina Press, a publisher in Columbia. In that capacity, I met and befriended many of the Palmetto State’s pantheon of literary luminaries–from writers, poets, storytellers, and historians, to booksellers and librarians. When I had the opportunity to transition from being the publicist of USC Press to its publisher, I wanted to see the press add to the rich literature of our state by publishing fiction, poetry, and children’s and young adult books as well, as an expanded vision for the university press, but one which would benefit more readers and writers, too.

Pat Conroy was, of course, the brightest star in the constellation of South Carolina writers at the time and one of the South’s most beloved storytellers. And Pat became my mentor and my publishing partner in Story River Books, an original southern fiction imprint we created together at the press. During the last few years of his life, he committed himself to teaching me and our Story River writers as much as he could from his 50-year writing career as a bestselling author. He also committed himself to teach his millions of readers about our Story River writers by championing these books and their authors.

Those years were transformative for me. Pat was a model servant leader, showing me what a life of service and generosity can mean to a community of readers and writers. When he passed away in March 2016, his family and friends created the nonprofit Pat Conroy Literary Center as a living legacy to Pat, honoring and continuing his work as a writer and teacher, and I was invited to serve as the Center’s first director. I left the world of publishing after nearly 20 years to help create our nonprofit.

As the Center’s executive director, I now have the honor of helping our communities of readers, writers, teachers, and students through our popular interpretive center (601 Bladen St.) and our year-round calendar of writers’ workshops, author events, book club discussions, a summer camp and a literary festival. In a relatively short time, our Conroy Center has already become TripAdvisor’s top-ranked attraction in Beaufort, and we’ve been recognized nationally as South Carolina’s only affiliate of the American Writers Museum and second American Library Association Literary Landmark. Locally, we’ve also been honored with the Civitas Award for Tourism Leadership by our local chamber of commerce.

The Center is an interpretive museum to Pat Conroy’s writing and teaching life, as well as a teaching center to inspire others to lead meaningful lives as writers, mentors, and servant leaders. My role as director is a multi-faceted one, inclusive of administrative and fundraising roles as well as teaching, mentoring, and writing, all of which I find to be incredibly rewarding–paying forward what I can never truly pay back to my friend and mentor, Mr. Conroy.

Can you tell us the story behind how you met your business partner?

When I came to South Carolina in 2004 as the newly hired marketing director for USC Press, one of the early assignments director Curtis Clark gave me was to call up Pat Conroy and ask him for an endorsement (a “blurb”) for a forthcoming novel of Charleston the press was about to publish. I had never spoken to Pat before, and at that point, had only read three of his books. But I certainly knew who he was. Everyone did. It was impossible not to. It was an intimidating assignment. So, I wrote out a sort of script, just three short paragraphs about who I was, why I thought this novel was worth Mr. Conroy’s time, and how I hoped he could assist us with the blurb. When I called the phone number we had on file for Pat, an answering machine responded with this message, which I will always remember: “You’ve reached the office of Pat Conroy. You can leave a message if you like. He might call you back. But probably not. [Beep!]”

I was not prepared for that at all. And so, I just rambled on for the full three-minute recording time of the message, doing my best to make salient points before the second beep cut me off. When it did, I wasn’t certain I had ever said my name or left my phone number. I was certain I was never going to hear back from Pat Conroy, and that my lunatic message would become something he would play at parties for a good laugh.

But he called me the next day–and interrogated me for 45 minutes. It was only during the last five of those he wanted to talk about the book I had called him about. Instead, he quizzed me on who I was, where I had come from, where I went to school, what I had been doing in publishing, what I aspired to do next, who I knew, who I was reading, what I thought about South Carolina, and what I thought of the South. Even at the time, it felt like a job interview. And I realized later that this vetting process was essential for Pat. A writer’s two most valuable inventories are his words and his time, and Pat was hopelessly outnumbered in requests for both. So, this was his way of determining whom he would grant access into his life.

And I made the cut that day. Something I said convinced him that I would be worthy of his notice, and soon thereafter, or his mentorship as well. I found out later that Pat was a self-described “blurb slut” and would offer endorsements to as many writers as he could because it had been so difficult for him to garner any from other writers early in his own career. But he didn’t blurb the novel I had called him about because he was, at the time, at work on his own novel of Charleston, what would become “South of Broad.” But he gave me a half-dozen ways to be in touch with him if I was ever that passionate about any other projects I believed would be worth his time. That was my point of entrance into Pat’s life, beginning a friendship that would lead him to take me under his wing as my mentor just a few years later. I’m not unique in that regard–there are many Conroy proteges–but I am surely grateful.

Can you open up about how you funded your business?

Another one of my mentors, the literary scholar Matthew J. Bruccoli, once said, rather bluntly, “literature runs on money.” It’s true of literary nonprofits as well, and fundraising for sustainability and growth are always our biggest challenges.

When Pat Conroy passed away from pancreatic cancer on March 4, 2016, his millions of loyal readers were devastated by the loss. They wanted to give purpose to their grief and to honor Pat’s importance in their lives. As Pat’s family and friends quickly developed the original vision for the Conroy Center, they were able to direct that momentum into memorial gifts which made the Center possible. The generosity of Pat’s readers and fellow writers, and of the many teachers and students he inspired, is simply phenomenal. And so many of those initial supporters have continued their philanthropic relationships with our Center during our burgeoning years and the remarkable growth in scope and national importance that has followed. I’m so grateful to all of our many donors for the myriad ways in which they continue to embrace and support our Conroy Center. And we welcome new donors as well.

Likewise, many foundations and grant-making organizations have also recognized the vital importance of the literary and literacy work we carry out through the Conroy Center, and they continue to support us through grants, which are also essential to the work we do.

In 2021, the Conroy Center moved into our permanent home at 601 Bladen Street, within view of the Beaufort River and just a short walk to historic downtown. The responses to our capital campaign, which makes possible our new location, have been extraordinary. And it’s been a joy to get to share our new Conroy Center with our many visiting donors and patrons, who come not only from around the country but often from beyond it as well to learn more about Pat Conroy and the Lowcountry.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://patconroyliterarycenter.org/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/patconroyliterarycenter/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/patconroyliterarycenter
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/c/PatConroyLiteraryCenter

Image Credits:
Susan DeLoach
Milton Morris
Anne McQuary