SEATED AT THE VICTORIAN KITCHEN table where the late Alex Haley, author of Roots, often used to write, Gertie King fights back tears. Strangers are scurrying around the antique-filled, 150-year-old white farmhouse located near Norris, Tenn., tagging Haley's prized possessions—everything from his 1977 Pulitzer Prize to his Mercedes convertible. "Mr. Haley loved this farm," says his former housekeeper, 50. "I can just see him standing here in the kitchen wearing his favorite green shirt, peeking into the pot of fried corn or looking into the oven for baked sweet potatoes." Now everything is up for sale: Haley's boyhood violin, the keys to dozens of cities from Burbank, Calif., to Alexandria, Egypt—even Chicken George's hat. "If he could see what was happening now, he'd be shaking his head and saying, 'Aw, babe, I can't believe what a fuss they're making,' " she says. " 'Cause Mr. Haley didn't want people to bother and fuss."

Fussing and feuding is about all that has happened since Haley died in February of a heart attack at age 70, leaving behind $1.5 million in debts. Oddly enough, Haley wasn't broke. His best-selling odyssey of his family's origins sold more than 12 million copies in 37 languages, making him a multimillionaire. At the time of his death he was worth over $2 million. Though most of the money was locked up in real estate, he left trusts and cash for friends and relatives, including his three children, William, Lydia and Cynthia. But his estate is tied up by claims from creditors, his longtime researcher George Sims and two of his three former wives, who both want more money. First wife Nan maintains their 1964 divorce is invalid, and third wife Myran asserts their 1991 separation agreement entitles her to one-third of the estate.

Because of the entanglements, Haley's belongings household goods, literary manuscripts, correspondence, awards—will go under the auctioneer's hammer during a three-day sale beginning Oct. 1. The hitter irony of pawning off the legacy of a man whose signal achievement was celebrating his own heritage has infuriated his friends. Says music entrepreneur Quincy Jones: "It kills me that this character so wrapped in history is in jeopardy of having his life scattered all over."

After Haley died, researchers hired by the estate rummaged through boxes of papers and discovered a literary hoard: working drafts of Roots and The Autobiography of Malcolm X, which Haley cowrote (the latter including manuscript corrections scrawled in red ink by the late Muslim leader), and a scribbled note and drawing from the author James Baldwin. There are also tape recordings of Haley's conversations with Malcolm as well as of his interviews with Miles Davis and American Nazi leader George Lincoln Rockwell for Playboy magazine. In a crumpled-up letter, Rockwell concedes that Haley charmed his storm troopers.

Never known for his financial acumen, Haley put his wealth into the hands of managers, and, according to his brother George, He spent much of it in ill-advised real estate investments. But most say Haley's impulsive generosity was the greatest drain on his income, forcing him eventually to hustle around the country lecturing for $10,000 a pop. He gave his annual share of The Autobiography of Malcolm X royalties to Malcolm's widow, Betty Shabazz, and often donated $10,000 a month to charities such as St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in Memphis and the University of Tennessee, where he funded 10 different scholarships, which now may be in jeopardy. "He never had it in him to say no," says George.

Despite the scattering of his heirlooms, Haley's legacy will live on. Since his death, scholars have ferreted out an unpublished short story, a musical and two unpublished novels. Henning, named for the Tennessee hometown where Haley is now buried, is a memoir of Haley's childhood, and Queen, which CBS is filming next year as a miniseries, is a tale about his grandmother. Publishers are already bidding on the manuscripts, but because of the legal problems engulfing his estate, the sale won't be completed in time to satisfy creditors—and to stop Haley's belongings from being dispersed.

For Haley, a peripatetic seafarer who spent 20 years in the U.S. Coast Guard, purchasing the farm was his way of finally settling down. There he would entertain such celebrity friends as Oprah Winfrey, Lou Gossett Jr., Mike Wallace and Brooke Shields. Although friends like Jones are trying to save Haley's estate from the auctioneer's gavel, it is by no means certain they will succeed.

Back at the farmhouse, Gertie King rests her gaze on the empty rocking chair on the front porch where Haley would sit, lost in thought. "It's so sad that somebody hasn't come to the rescue of this farm," she says. "Mr. Haley was always there for everyone. Why can't someone be there for him?"

J.D. PODOLSKY
CIVIA TAMARKIN in Norris