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.
Former head of WLBT and Jackson Mayor Frank Melton, on the cusp of losing his reelection campaign, died. William Shakespeare couldn’t have written a more Shakespearean ending if he tried.
If the judges of the Pulitzer Prize had known about Frank, I’d have won the Pulitzer four years running. Not because my cartoons were that good — but because Frank was. Jackson voters were hungry to elect a hungry tough-talking businessman (sounds familiar). What they got was an erratic train wreck. I got a nearly daily stream of cartoon ideas.
Busting strip clubs. Mobile Command Centers. Pulling buses over on 220 so he could get a hug. Destroying houses. Trials. Tap-dancing on the Constitution. And forget all the rumors swirling around. It was bizarre.
Frank passed out cowboy hats to the City Council. I had already started drawing him as “The Cowboy.” Clarion-Ledger photographer Vicki King took an epic photo of Frank and Ben Allen in a cowboy hat. Strippers at one of the local strip clubs told our reporter that I could drink for free at their club.
I politely declined the generous offer.
I had two interesting encounters with Frank during his administration. One was at the High Street Taco Bell. I walked in and felt the hair on my next stand up. I looked around and saw Frank and his bodyguards wolfing down burritos. Frank saw me and called me over. I saw one of his guards put his hand near his pistol. Joy. Frank held his hands up to his ears and said, “I love how you draw my ears!” and started laughing manically.
I felt like running for the border.
Two weeks before he died, I was speaking at a law enforcement appreciation banquet. Frank, glassy-eyed, came in and sat down. He quietly sat there as I went through my speech. And then, out of nowhere, he popped up and said, “Marshall, thank you for making my life interesting.” I paused and then said the only think I could, “No Frank, thank you for making my life interesting.”
Those were the last words I spoke to him.
I drew his obit cartoon with him and his dog Abbey (who died right before he did) walking into the sunset. In the end, Abbey was about all he had left. Like I said, Shakespeare couldn’t have written a more tragic ending.
And that my friends, is the bottom line.