In that town, known for its long lists of visiting dignitaries, Spencer was a unique presence -- and she drew a different sort of D.C. crowd. In addition to the expected politicians, there were artists and writers and readers, and something called "the Mississippi mafia."

I've known Elizabeth Spencer for several years. Like many people who first meet her through her work, I have gone from fan to groupie to friend. So, I too, was in Washington to see Spencer receive the 20th annual PEN Malamud/Award, only the most recent of many awards she has garnered in what will soon be 60 years of publishing success.

Presented annually to recognize a body of work that demonstrates excellence in the art of short fiction, the PEN/ Malamud Award is given in honor of the late Bernard Malamud. Previous winners include John Updike, Saul Bellow, Andre Dubus, Eudora Welty, Grace Paley, Richard Ford, and Alice Munro.

Perhaps best known for her novella, "The Light in the Piazza," which was made into a 1962 film, and recently won six Tony awards as a Broadway play, Spencer has also written nine novels, seven books of short stories, a memoir, and a play. Her first book (and one of the few now out of print) was published in 1948.

A native of Mississippi, Spencer lived in Italy and Canada before coming to Chapel Hill with her husband, John Rusher, to teach writing to Morehead Scholars at UNC in 1986. Rusher died in 1998.

Hillsborough writer Allan Gurganus knows Spencer well, both as a writer, and a friend.

"Elizabeth and I have known each other for 30 years," Gurganus said. "When I published my first story in The New Yorker when I was 26, I sent a letter to other New Yorker writers, thanking them for their work."

Like Christopher Isherwood and Vladimir Nabokov, Spencer was one of those writers. Although Gurganus heard from most of the people he wrote, his correspondence with Spencer formed the basis for a lasting connection.

"I have read and loved her stories for all these years," he said. "There is a dignity and quiet power to her work. Sometimes work like hers gets overlooked by things that make more noise. But her writing is classically perfect, and that gives it staying power. It is a beautiful kind of confirmation to see her continue to win notice and awards."

Gurganus also applauds Spencer for taking on the big issues of her generation: Race, and sex and even Vietnam -- often when few others were tackling such subjects in their fiction.

"It is rare," said Gurganus, "that a great artist is also a great human being. For some, it's as if there is not enough pizza dough to cover two pans. Elizabeth, however, has lifelong friendships. She doesn't just trade in for new people. And that comes through in the richness of her work."

Spencer has a loyal gang of support in the artists of the Chapel Hill area. Many of them, spearheaded by Walter Bennett, are joining forces through the auspices of the Southern Documentary Fund, to record the highlights of this writer's incredible life and work for a short film to be completed in 2008.

The crowd who feted Spencer in Washington included many of her old friends from Mississippi (the aforementioned Mississippi mafia), now living in that area, including artist William Dunlap. At a dinner party in her honor, the author was introduced by Mississippi Sen. Thad Cochran.

The well-intentioned Cochran declined to read off a list of Spencer's books, stating "it would take far too long." He then gave an impassioned speech about Spencer's Southern bloodlines -- she and Sen. John McCain are cousins. He went on to talk about McCain's father and grandfather, stating that the presidential candidate "comes from a long line of warriors."

Ironically, Spencer has written, sometimes humorously, on the importance that Southerners place on "who your people are."

Perhaps realizing he was losing his audience, Cochran came back to the business at hand.

"But tonight," he said, "We are here to celebrate Elizabeth Spencer."

Indeed.