I can't shake my wildest visualizations after reading the headline last weekend about the three reportedly inebriated men allegedly breaking into the Witt Stephens Nature Center in downtown Little Rock and absconding with a reptile. I imagine a man whispering to an accomplice beside him in slurred speech: "Ya see that gator over yonder? Hold my beer. Watch this!"
The news account said Samuel Cooper of Benton, Landon Williamson of Bryant and Kevin Patrick of Little Rock face charges of commercial burglary, theft of property and first-degree criminal mischief. The 4-year-old, 3-foot-long alligator was beneath a seat in the suspects' vehicle, police reported.
When they arrived just before midnight Wednesday, authorities found the aquarium home of two turtles had been toppled, sending a sheet of water across the floor at the normally tranquil center operated by the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission. Employees said a gator informally called "American Alligator" was missing. (I hereby suggest renaming him something with a more lighthearted bite. Say, how about Absent Al?
Police also found a large glass case that displayed a shotgun shattered and the gun missing.
But then, wouldn't you just know when alcohol allegedly is involved, two men walked through the center's broken door soon after authorities arrived.
Police said one immediately dropped to the ground when ordered while the other, reportedly holding the missing shotgun, scrammed. But he soon dropped the gun and surrendered as the chase led to a 2004 Nissan Maxima.
Inside, police said they found the third man waiting and the undoubtedly bewildered Absent Al laying beneath the seat.
I'm still trying to understand why three full-grown men would risk prison time to knock off a nature center, of all places, and steal an alligator.
Well, wait, there were a couple of other items also taken, like a hand-painted replica rattlesnake, some alligator teeth and replica bird calls. Those must have made it worthwhile.
Meanwhile, the three were jailed late last week to await judgment, and the center's exhibit hall was temporarily closed to repair expensive damage.
Absent Al is back in his comfy glassed-in domain covered in water, awaiting meal time and probably still wondering, "what the heck was all that?"
Concentrated murders
I see the Crime Prevention Research Center issued findings that show only 2 percent of U.S. counties account for 51 percent of the murders.
As reported by Gun Owners of America, the study also said the worst five percent of the counties for murders account for 47 percent of the national population and 68 percent of murders.
It was reported that 73 percent of America's counties had zero murders during any given year between 1977 and 2000.
If this study is valid, these results tell me the nation's "murder problem" is in fact (rather than fake) a concentrated local matter.
Back to Dogpatch
It's a skeletal shadow of what this once-popular Ozark theme park was during its bustling heyday of the 1970s. But the decaying remains of Dogpatch USA were still upright the other day when we visited a crafts fair on the 125-acre grounds along scenic Arkansas 7.
It was one of those magnificently blue, warm days without the winds and water that had wracked the state in previous days. The vendors offered everything you'd expect from any self-respecting event.
Crafts ranged from dolls, to balms, jewelry, ceramics woodworking, a clogging group and, of course, T-shirts. My two favorites read: "Floating the river while killing my liver" and "My heart is good, but oh, this mouth ..."
Looking around at the gray clapboard buildings that once were billed as the purported homes of Dogpatch characters like Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae, the Yocums and Moonbeam McSwine, I wished the theme park could have succeeded.
This imaginary valley of pure escapism once provided employment and hope across Newton County, one of the most beautiful yet impoverished areas in our state. Yet I also realized the economics were such that, short of an inspired visionary with deep pockets the likes of a Johnny Morris, the park's economic fate became sealed.
I could still see so much potential remaining here in this garden spot; potential that's steadily disintegrating into sawdust.
As always at such events, I met all sorts of folks strolling the grounds to admire 135 exhibitors. There was the Rev. Robert Shaddox and his lady friend Marilyn Scroggins, both from Harrison and in their mid-80s. They were strolling the lakefront hand-in-hand and I was moved to take their picture. "Wait now," he said, "are you that fella who writes in the paper?"
Standing in line awaiting the driver to take us up the steep half-mile to our cars, we met John and Glenda Clark who live on the Garland and Saline County line outside Hot Springs. She remembered coming to Dogpatch as a child, as I'm sure do many of you reading today.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at [email protected].
Editorial on 05/09/2017