Jim Morriss despised the spotlight. Well, let's rephrase: He despised it if it ever came anywhere near him. His life's work was to direct that spotlight and then tell the world what he observed going on inside it, no matter what it was.
For more than 50 years, Morriss was the chief chronicler of inside the spotlight on Springdale and, to a great extent, all of Northwest Arkansas. As editor of The Springdale News and its subsequent incarnations, his newspaper was a voice of reason, accuracy and service, even when the rest of the world was going a little bit nuts.
What’s the point?
Jim Morriss led a newsroom with strength of character and a drive for accuracy. He will long be remembered for the relationships and careers of others he nurtured.
Morriss' voice was stilled last week after 80 years. But the echoes of his words and actions lives on.
Lots of people claim to have started at the bottom and climbed to the top. Morriss actually did it. Brought to The Springdale News office on Emma Avenue by his stepfather in 1950, the 13-year-old Morriss was given a job sweeping the press room. He graduated from there to "printer's devil," the nasty job of melting down spent lead to be reused in the paper's clunky Linotype machines. He also delivered papers, took photographs and eventually started covering Springdale High School sporting events.
By his early 20s he was the paper's top (only?) reporter, eventually promoted to city editor and then, finally editor in the mid-1960s. As Springdale and the rest of the region grew, so did the newspaper, eventually adding weekend editions and moving to morning publication.
Morriss' deft management of his small but growing newsroom staff turned The Springdale News into one of the most respected small papers in Arkansas. His commitment to covering the community first, to training and developing young reporters and holding government institutions to account was shared by the legion of journalists who filtered through his newsroom over the years.
One of Morriss' most fervent beliefs was that the newspaper was to tell the story, not be part of it. He didn't like fanfare or hoopla. He just wanted stories that told readers what they wanted and needed to know.
The staff always knew Morriss was on to a good story when he marched through the newsroom with the pica pole (that's newspaper-speak for a metal ruler) he usually kept in his back pocket gripped firmly in his right hand, as if he was about to whack someone with it. He never did. That was just his way of telling folks it's time to go to work.
He was stickler for details, often performing routine tasks long thought to be beneath the editor. But for Jim, every word in the paper meant something to somebody. So no detail was too small to sweat.
At the same time, Morriss knew that journalists needed release from the tension, stress and overwhelming bad news. His newsrooms were usually filled with laughter. Pranks and practical jokes were the norm, right up until it was time to put the newspaper to bed.
Morriss retired in 2003, concluding 53 years in the newspaper business and embarking on the more personally lucrative career of grandfather. He worked in his yard, played with the kids and enjoyed weekend trips to the river in North Central Arkansas.
And he still called his replacement at the paper from time to time to remind him that the stream in downtown Springdale was Mill Creek, not Spring Creek, and that the east-west thoroughfares in town were all avenues, not streets.
His occasional corrections aren't the only lasting impact Morriss had on his old newsroom. His commitment to accuracy and community service lives on through the many reporters and editors who are still plying the trade of journalism. For those who have moved on to different careers, they remember Jim's loyalty, spirit and support.
Few who worked for Jim Morriss think of him as a former boss. They think of him as a teacher, a coach, a father-figure, a brother and a friend. He will be missed, but he won't be gone.
Farewell and -30-.
Commentary on 04/17/2017