To mark my 20th year of being a cartoonist in Mississippi, I thought I’d dig out 20 tales from the past two decades. Some are funny. Some are serious. All tell the story of how I came to fall in love with this sometimes frustrating but always fascinating state we live in.
I remember my interview for this job like it was yesterday. I flew from San Diego to Dallas to Jackson almost exactly 20 years ago. Our flight came in around 9 p.m. I remember how dark it seemed as the plane began its landing cycle (compared to the bright lights of Southern California). I noticed a large body of water (the Reservoir) and thought we were going down. We weren’t — although I’m sure me wearing my life vest spooked the other passengers.
My friend Jon Broadbooks picked me up at the airport. Jon and I had worked for the same paper chain in Houston, Texas — just proving how small of a world journalism really is. He took me on a tour before dropping me at my hotel. A few of his quotes were: “There’s Applebees. If you’re not going going to get the job, you’ll eat there. If you’re going to get the job, you’ll eat at Shapleys.” “That’s Eudora Welty’s house– I think.” “That’s UMC and it’s a great place to go if you’re ever shot.”
It was not a Chamber of Commerce moment.
He also told me that if I complimented the publisher’s picture Reagan, I’d get the job. He was joking — I think. I never brought up the picture (although it was a nice picture of the Gipper).
I nestled into the now boarded-up Edison-Walthall Hotel in downtown. I flipped on the TV and saw Channel 16’s then garish blue set (I was used to Southern California news). I noted how southern all the accents on the commercials were. Then I turned to comedy gold — Jackson City Council’s meeting on public access television.
I knew I wanted to move here.
That morning, I walked over to the paper. We had am eventful editorial board meeting with Rep. Bennie Thompson and I met with various editors and writers. Then Executive Editor John Johnson told me I could make the job into anything I wanted to — I thought if I get the job I’d go out into the community as much as possible. I met a string of people at the paper. Then I sat in the Human Resources Director’s office for another interview. I noticed all the Marshall University items on his wall. “You know much about the plane crash?” I asked naively. The HR director was Nate Ruffin, the player who gave up his seat on the plane to a booster and survived — and was featured in the movie We Are Marshall.
Editorial Page Editor David Hampton picked me up that evening and he and several others took me to Shapleys. OK, so no Applebees. That’s a good sign. Then I thought everyone eating with me liked me — but I now know it was because they were getting a free steak. Speaking of, that was the biggest steak I had had in years. I’m sure Gannett’s stock price dropped after that meal.
The next morning, Joe White (editorial copy editor) and Jim Ewing (editorial writer) volunteered to take me back to the airport. John Johnson told him and Jim Ewing not to get too close to me because I might not pass the drug test. I never got to work with John. I never got to work for him — he was gone by the time I came here in December.
Joe took me to the airport in his Aunt Ann’s 1974 Buick. We cruise by the old Gold Coast (where you bought liquor during prohibition) and a private prison. As I flew back, I met a great couple from Jackson who I still know today.
When I got home, Amy asked me what I thought of Jackson. I told her I had never seen it in the daylight (I hadn’t.) But I did love all the people I met. I had a feeling that this would be a good move. When David Hampton called me a few days later to offer the job, I accepted.
The interview was actually kind of bizarre. But I took the job anyway. Maybe it was a leap of faith. Or maybe I was just intrigued by Gov. Kirk Fordice, Enoch Sanders and Kenneth I. Stokes. Who knows. Actually it was the people I had met while here. I have had the please of working with dozens of amazing journalists.
When we pulled into our apartment complex that December, I saw a Clarion-Ledger box. I smiled and thought, “That is my paper.” It was a feeling that I’ll never forget. Just like that interview so many years ago.