Blanche DuBois would understand: As much as any other place in Mississippi, the original hometown of Tennessee Williams depends on the kindness of strangers - otherwise known as tourists.

Still, the possibilities for luring a whole passel of them to this historic city may not have hit home until some years ago, when community leaders met to concoct a master plan.

Among them was Brenda Caradine, who recalls what someone pointed out then: " 'You are the only town in the state, in the solar system, in the universe that can claim to be the birthplace of two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tennessee Williams - what are you going to do about it?' "

Plenty, as it turns out.

Not only is the town cashing in on its literary cachet, it has preserved and renovated itself into a state of national prestige: In February, Columbus was named one of America's 2008 Dozen Distinctive Destinations.

That crown comes from the National Trust for Historic Preservation, and with it, a whole lot of marketing oomph.

"We can't put a monetary figure on it for now," says James Tsismanakis, executive director of the Columbus Convention and Visitors Bureau.

"But how would you pay for all the radio and TV coverage we're getting for free? Plus, the Trust puts their own marketing power behind you for 2008.

"The rewards are intangible.

"And once you've won this, you've won it for life."

All 12 of these lifetime winners, the Trust notes, "have been reinvented through preservation-based revitalization and heritage tourism."

They offer "cultural and recreational experiences different from the typical vacation destination," and "boast an authentic sense of place."

In the nine years the Trust has tendered this award, only one other Mississippi town has fetched it: Natchez, in 2003.

To earn it, this town of 26,000 had to, in a way, save face - the faces of its Victorian and antebellum homes, its legendary cemeteries, the historic African-American district of Catfish Alley, and the historic properties that help define one of its landmark institutions: the Mississippi University for Women, attended by Jackson's own Pulitzer Prize winner, Eudora Welty.

It saved from the wrecking ball the 1870s Victorian dwelling where Tennessee Williams lived as a young child - before his family moved to Nashville, then to Canton and Clarksdale.

Restored with money from the Mississippi Department of Archives and History, and furnished with authentic period pieces, the home that had once been the parish house for St. Paul's Episcopal Church has been moved and now sits on Main Street.

There it serves as a Mississippi Welcome Center, as well as a museum celebrating the creator of Blanche DuBois, the aging Southern belle of A Streetcar Name Desire who "always depended on the kindness of strangers."

Beyond preserving the town, residents have also recreated it, with the addition or expansion of a smorgasbord of attractions.

Those attractions include a variety of fine and/or colorful dining establishments, a distinction boosted by the labors of John Bean, who started here or in Starkville such restaurant chains as Harveys, Sweet Peppers Deli and The Grill at Jackson Square.

Columbus is also the home of popular, quirky Front Door/Back Door, separated into two dining areas by its kitchen and by custom. Same menu, different tastes in decor.

"The front tends to be a ladies' lunch place," says owner Sarah Labensky. "The back is for, say, the guys from the bank.

"There are certain people who will only eat in one or the other."

Further proof, local boosters say, that Columbus is a town of character.

And characters. Including one called Mother Goose.

"She's Edwina Williams," says Tsismanakis, "but I bet nine of 10 people in Columbus don't know her real name."

Sporting a straw hat big enough to float her tiny frame down the Tenn-Tom Waterway, Williams greets patrons at the award-winning Columbus-Lowndes Public Library as the children's services librarian.

"We have a dahhhling time with the kids," says Williams, embracing a stuffed-toy goose in the crook of her arm.

Wearing her Mother Goose getup, Williams (no relation to Tennessee) also swoops down on ribbon cuttings, business openings and civic meetings to keep the townsfolk on their toes.

Thanks to residents like her, Columbus smacks of "the real South," Tsismanakis says.

She is as much a part of that aura as is the 160-year-old Amzi E. Love Home.

There, the great-great grandson of the original owner dons a replica of his ancestor's 19th-century garb and lets you come in.

Sid Caradine has been giving tours year-round since 1984. He's married to Brenda Caradine, who enjoys recalling how one visitor described the residence as "'the house that time forgot.' "

This is not, however, a town that forgets about time.

It specializes in the past - both recent and distant. And, like the Front Door/Back Door, it seems to offer a divided perspective.

Same menu, different tastes in history.

This is the town that honors the memory of Stephen D. Lee, the Confederate officer who more or less started the Civil War when he ordered the first shots on Fort Sumter.

This is the town that entertains tourists with the tale of Confederate President Jeff Davis in his pajamas, speechifying to roaring Rebels from the Snowden House balcony.

But it's also the town that revels in a story of reconciliation: the legend of Friendship Cemetery, where a group of Southern women decided, at last, to place flowers on Northern soldiers' graves.

In that same cemetery, a visitor has held the hand of the marble statue of the Weeping Angel - and felt the warmth of a human touch.

"My wife has done that," Tsismanakis says.

"She swears it's true."