COMMENTARY: Small Town News

By Buddy Roberts

It was late one night, close on 19 years ago, that I watched through my camera as the florist’s shop owned by my next-door neighbor burned to the ground. As small towns go, it was big news.

Bigger news happened the following night, when a feed and seed store (the one Mr. Hogg, my elementary school principal, bought when he retired from education) was consumed by fire two blocks away. There was as much speculation in the air that night as there was smoke. What caused the fires? Were they accidents or not? Was there an arsonist on the loose? Were both fires the work of the same person, or did he have an accomplice? Where would they strike next?

After exposing a couple of rolls of film, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape, and coughing smoke out of my lungs, I jumped behind the wheel of my car (a grey 1976 Ford Grenada with the front tag screaming PRESS in bright red letters) as J.R. Espy, as pumped on adrenaline as I was, eased into the passenger seat.

“J.R.?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Does it get any better than this?” And we laughed all the way back to the newspaper office.

J.R.’s dad is the publisher of The News, an Espy-owned publication since as long as anyone can remember. I went to work there before I was old enough to drive, and J.R. and I became a news team while we were both still in high school. Together, we covered Friday night football games, school board meetings, elections, a major flood, the state legislature, municipal politics, worse crimes than arson, and just about everything else that happens in and to a community.

We had some fun. Life in a small town continued as only it can. The florist hired my dad to rebuild his shop, Mr. Hogg retired again, and somewhere along the way, J.R. and I grew up. Before long, I had been recognized as one of the state’s top political and education reporters, and J.R., having won acclaim as the best journalism student in the country, was making a name for himself in the college press association as an investigative reporter. It’s what he does best, and he’s still at it.

But as time went on, something changed for me. The board meetings became routine, the elections lost their excitement, and the scandals weren’t quite so scandalous any more. The game just wasn’t as much fun as it used to be.

What I didn’t realize then was that my interests had shifted. After leaving the small town for a bigger market, I was able to take a step away from issues and hard news and discover a new focus: people. Such as the centenarian who’d had tea with Eleanor Roosevelt and climbed the pyramids in Egypt. Such as the professional clown who’d studied with Marcel Marceau. Such as the fourth grader who wants to be a tornado chaser when he grows up. Such as the Native American historian working to preserve the ancient legends. Their stories were great fun to hear, and I've always counted it a privilege that I was the one who got to retell them for the public.

And here I am now in another new market. Birmingham. The Magic City. During an interview with Beth Thornley (the talented West Coast singer-songwriter who grew up in Birmingham) for an upcoming entertainment profile, she described Birmingham as “a great little big city.” An apt description, one that's been echoed by others you'll read about in Birmingham Profile: the attorney who grew up in an antebellum house in which part of Gone With the Wind was written, the composer who's traveled the world but happily settled here, the savvy businesswoman who fuses cosmopolitan style with Southern tradition, and many more.

It's been a long journey from small town news to Birmingham Profile. As Harry Chapin put it, "I came into town with a knapsack on my shoulder and a pocketful of stories that I just had to tell. You know I've knocked around a bit, and I've had my share of small town glories. It's time to hit the city and that crazy carousel."

I'm glad to have you along on this new leg of the journey.