Monday, I attended the funeral of a college buddy in Little Rock. That wouldn't normally be noteworthy beyond his family and friends, especially since he and I recently celebrated respective 68th birthdays.
My age now matches my high school class year. Muscles moan after yard work more than in years prior. Hair disappears from the head, reappearing with gusto on ears and eyebrows, like purslane weed in tiny gardens. When hearing aid batteries are buy-one-get-one-free at Walgreens, I notice.
And longtime friends begin to pass away.
What is noteworthy, though, is that my friend, David McCollum, was one of the best Arkansas sports journalists that you, as a reader in this corner of the state, probably never heard of. His career in print journalism, starting in high school in Memphis and ending in Conway, spanned 50 years. Last year the Arkansas Press Association bestowed on him their Golden 50 Award, a standout among scores of career milestones.
In 1972, David and I graduated from the "Notre Dame of Baptists" -- Baylor University. Attending there fit. We were both reared as good Southern Baptist boys in the deepest of the Deep South, he in the storied river city, Memphis, and I in a lesser-known Louisiana town downstream. A difference was that he knew what he wanted from the first day he set foot on campus: A degree from a respected university with a journalism department having excellent, if under-the-radar, credentials. While I initially dabbled in sleek, marbled halls of the business school, David began writing from his freshman year forward for the student newspaper based in the creaky old journalism building across the street.
Our senior year, a "pied piper" journalism professor with myriad media contacts took a dozen of us rosy-cheeked kids on a study tour of New York City. The access he arranged was expansive. Editors shared initial mock-ups of the new People and Ms. magazines well before they launched. We stood behind "Today" show cameras while on-air. Afterward, NBC news notables Frank Blair, Frank Newman and veteran sportscaster Joe Garagiola met with us at length. Naturally, David took the lead with questions for Garagiola.
For two days each student individually shadowed pre-selected media professionals. I spent my time in a gadabout, small town boy takes on Manhattan mode, splitting time between ABC Radio, Texaco public relations in the iconic Chrysler Building, and PBS with Bill Moyers. I brunched with Moyers at his home.
Meanwhile, David was focused solely on Sports Illustrated. His impressed editor sent him home with a prized coffee mug sporting the magazine logo. My only souvenir was a swizzle stick from the Café des Artistes bar, a watering hole popular with the ABC crowd. And I shook Harry Reasoner's hand. Word from David's wife Beverly was the magazine mug was still in use in Conway. My bar room memento? God only knows where it ended.
David's five decades recognized by his Arkansas press peers included his college newspaper sports writing, added to high school paper route years, summer internships at the former Memphis Press-Scimitar, and career reporting for the Orange (Texas) Leader, the former Arkansas Democrat and, finally, Conway's Log Cabin Democrat.
Years before the circulation battle reached its bitterest peak between the two statewide dailies (the Arkansas Democrat and the Arkansas Gazette), David wisely departed the Democrat and headed north to Conway and the Log Cabin Democrat. The capital city's loss was Conway's win. With depth and deft found only in much larger markets, he covered regional high school sports and college athletics across the multiple universities in that city----a college town just as much as Fayetteville, but with no hog-hollering or pretentious T-shirts comparing itself to Austin, Texas.
He was not physically imposing. At 5-foot-6 -- if he stretched, according to wife, Beverly -- David stood in contrast to the boulders and towers he interviewed. Nevertheless, smart jocks listened and answered accordingly. They knew his writing shed light on their craft to their fans. David's true talent was the unfolding of sports tales made comprehensible to anyone, even one as I, a former high school marching band and speech class nerd. And he wasn't just a sports writer. David was a true journalist who covered any assignment well, as in a certain presidential inauguration.
The morning after his death, the Log Cabin Democrat sports section gave tribute. The entire front page was a solid black rectangle with reverse type in the center notifying readers of their loss: "David McCollum 1950-2018".
Nothing further needed. The medium was the message.
Commentary on 05/10/2018