The Media - October 9, 2014

As published in the White River Current - Thursday October 9, 2014

I learned another good lesson:  Be careful what you say.  A couple of weeks ago, I had a severe attack of what is sometimes referred to as “the stomach flu” or 24-hour virus.  I think it was actually caused by something that I had eaten the previous evening.  Anyway, I was confined to the house, in close proximity to the bathroom for a couple of days.  I was scheduled to sing with the choir at the Sunday service of the community revival.   I reported to the choir director that I would not be able to lend my golden tenor voice for this production, that I was ill and that it might be Ebola because I felt so bad.  Now I have been accused of overstating the facts occasionally, and maybe I did leave the impression that I was pretty sick (at least too sick to sing) because she must have implied to the choir members and others that I was soon to receive my last rites or something like that.  Now, everyone I meet is inquiring about how I am feeling and “I heard you were sick” and “how long were you in the hospital?” etc.  Just to set the record straight, I am fully recovered and thank you one and all for your concern.  Now, on to something else.  I am a slow reader when it comes to a good book.  I like to take each word and carefully digest it in the proper recesses of my brain.  I have written before about my love of the printed word especially when it is a good mystery story, most often fiction.  Occasionally I will make an exception and stray into the non-fiction category.   I am currently reading “Ghost of the Ozarks” which is sub-titled “Murder and Memory in the Upland South.”  The author, Brooks Blevins, PhD,  is the Noel Boyd Professor of Ozarks Studies at Missouri State University in Springfield, Missouri, but calls Violet Hill, Arkansas, home.  Some of his other books are for sale at the Calico Rock Museum.  The book that I am reading is a detailed account of a “gruesome murder”  that may or may not have occurred (I’ll know when I get further along in this very entertaining story) in Stone County, Arkansas, in 1929.  Brooks is a very skilled historian and he leaves no stone unturned or no newspaper unquoted in his reporting of this event that occurred in our neighboring county some eighty-five years ago.  The bibliography that is listed at the end of the book is ten pages long.  Even though I have only muddled through the Prologue and the first three chapters, I can see that the story may be as much (or more) about the way the media representatives, from Kansas City and Chicago, and as far away as California, who descended on this remote part of the country and sent back reports of this grisly act of barbarism.  I can imagine that newspaper sales skyrocketed when portrayals of the local citizens as “illiterate hill people” reached readers across the country.  A few years after this incident, when I was a boy, I remember that our state was described as the “armpit of America” by our northern neighbors.  We had to endure the radio broadcasts of the like of Bob Burns who was described as “The Arkansas Traveler” and “The Arkansas Philosopher.”  Bob made an act out of “reporting” about the people back in Van Buren which he claimed was his home town (he was born in Greenwood).  My mother couldn’t stand him and she was always critical of his making fun of the good Arkansas people.  He played a home-made musical instrument that he called the Bazooka.  The WWII tank destroying piece of military artillery is named for this invention.  Another radio show that sort of pictures uneducated, backwoodsey  residents was “Lum and Abner.”  I liked this program because it was satirical and sometimes very funny.  Their Christmas program was outstanding and they repeated it every year.  It has only been in the last few decades that Arkansas has been able to shake off the mantle of being portrayed as a backwards, moonshine swigging population.  Thanks to Charles for loaning me this interesting account of another time.  Anita told me once about her niece from Detroit who came to visit every summer and who called her Arkansas relatives “dumb farmers.”  Beverly had a rough time as an adult but Anita married a handsome young man from the queen city of the Ozarks, became the mother of two above-average children and lived happily ever after.