Marshall Ramsey

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.

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.

Soon after arriving in Jackson, I was invited to a literary club luncheon. It was a small gathering in a nice home in a nice neighborhood. There were probably 20 very well dressed ladies who were a bit older than my 28 years. (I didn’t ask ages, of course. That would have been rude.)

It was a very happy affair. Politeness was served along with the snacks and punch.

I set up my projector and stood up in front of the group. I think it was one of my first public speeches (I’ve given hundreds of them since). Anyway, I took a breath and started with this gem of a line, “I wanted to thank you guys for having me here today.”

Silence. Then stares. More silence.

It was like I had farted.

My sin? I realized I had said “you guys” when I was the only guy in the room. No “you” or “y’all.” You guys.

One lady said without a smile, “You ain’t from around here are you?”

I smiled and said, “I’m from Atlanta.”

She said, “Just as I thought, you’re a Yankee.”

I came back with the only response I could, “Sherman burned my town down, too.”

The rest of the presentation went well and was well received. But it was at that moment, I realized that I truly now lived in the deep South.

Coming soon, Drawing the Line, a collection of my favorite cartoons from the past 20 years in Mississippi.

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.

Let’s start with this truth: I am not a native Mississippian — although my great great grandfather did spend time in Mississippi and came to love it, too. His name was Reverend J.C. Eckles, a Methodist circuit rider based in Northeast Mississippi after the Civil War. He also co-founded Wood College in Mathiston, Mississippi. (When they were open, his picture was on their website. I always marveled with jealousy when I saw his chin.)

Of course, when I moved here, I so wanted to find out I had Mississippi roots. But let me warn you: When digging for your roots, it’s wise to call before you dig. When I started asking around, my aunt told me about my great great grandfather’s other wrinkle to his past: He was a lieutenant in the Union Army. He was in Yazoo City. Vicksburg. And the Battle of Jackson. Yup. He was stationed right where Cannon Nissan is today.

In his memoirs, J.C. talks about how his men were getting cranky, so he snuck into town and liberated some tobacco. His men were so overjoyed that he wrote that he went from being the worst officer in the U.S. Army to being able to be elected President.

I, of course, was horrified. You would be too if you discovered your great great grandfather started the crime wave in Jackson.

J.C. married my great great grandmother (Alice, who was an amazing artist in her own right and whose family was from Holly Springs) and moved back to Ohio. He was friends with the Wright Brothers (my grandmother sat on Orville’s knee) and started another college. He’s buried in Maryville, Tennessee.

But he loved Mississippi. He said in his memoirs that the people of Mississippi liked him even though he “ministered to Republicans and Negroes.”

I feel similar love. I piss off people every day but have been (for the most part) warmly embraced by the people of Mississippi. I have three native Mississippi boys running around the house. Our family has been blessed to live here.

I’m sure J.C. is smiling.

P.S.  Found this from the Webster Progress Times. I’ve had days like this:

At this time, J.C. Eckles was presiding elder, not only for the pine chapel, but also missionary work among colored Methodist. They were also planning to build a large school building near Pine Chapel, aided by funds from the Southern Educational Society and Rust College. A storm of protest broke, which grew for 10 years and covered much of Webster County. J.W. Stewart of Clarkson carried Dr. Eckles out of Pine Chapel community one night for fear of mob violence. Dr. Eckles made it to Grenada by relay of horses, where he caught a train to Memphis.

A few thoughts on some of the sporting news over the weekend:

Arnold Palmer was a class act and made golf cool. I remember my Dad being a fan — so naturally, I became one, too. Like Jack Nicklaus said, “He always tried to make himself better.” That’s something we all should try to do. And we should have the same passion for our professions. He lived a long life, yet I’m sad to see him die. I hope my Dad gets to play a round with him.

I just wish 2016 would stop taking our icons.

Jose Fernandez didn’t live a long life. He was tragically taken at the very young age of 24. But he loved living during the time he had. — some of the clips on the internet were amazing. Such passion and joy for the game. But his death was a terrible reminder that life is very fragile and that we should make the most of it. Call a loved on today. Tell them that you love them.

Dak Prescott continues to prove his critics wrong. So many people tried to create a story for him (he should switch to tight end, he can’t throw, he can’t blah blah blah.) But Dak hasn’t bought into that story. Yeah, he can run. But he also has an astronomical quarterback rating and has not thrown an interception through preseason and the season so far. His work ethic is epic and has turned down endorsements so he can focus on the game. Dak proves that success is the best revenge. And that you should never buy into someone else’s story about you.

Les Miles reminds us why coaches get such large buyouts. When you’re a big-time college coach, it isn’t if you’ll be fired, it’s when. He now joins Phil Fulmer in the “I won a National Championship but I still got canned” club. But he’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll take his clock-management skills to another team eventually. But as a Tennessee fan, I have one bit of advice for my LSU friends: Don’t hire Lane Kiffin. If you do, you might as well plow salt into your football field. (Trust me.) But it’s a good reminder that none of us are secure in our jobs. We have to earn it every day.

Speaking of being a Tennessee fan, I’m relieved Tennessee finally got the Florida Gators off their backs and out of their heads. I tell you, I thought Florida was going to whip them once again until halftime. And then Tennessee rattled off 38 unanswered points in the second half. Neyland Stadium came alive and frustrated Florida’s office. Tennessee’s Defense did the same. But I think the lesson from the game is this: You haven’t lost until the game is over. And that goes for your life, too. You can always have a comeback. Make your adjustments and play your heart out.

People sometime question the value of sports. But it is an incredible metaphor for life. This weekend was proof.

What do you think?