Old News reads the archives of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette and its progenitor newspapers in search of ... hmm. I know it when I see it.
Today I'm looking at a two-line banner headline written 100 years ago, June 6, 1916: "41 Dead, Possibly 250 Injured, in the Most Destructive Storm in History of the State."
Although the editors of that long ago Arkansas Gazette didn't yet know, 400 Arkansans were injured and 80 lay dead or dying. Thirty-four tornadoes had raked the state since the afternoon before, and storms had raged through the morning.
With nothing so handy as today's satellite-chatting wonder-gear, Managing Editor Fred Heiskell's team gathered an impressive amount of same-day data using telephones, telegraph wires and shoe leather. One crude but ingenious trick: They used police call logs to trace a storm's path across Little Rock.
These pros threw 16 reports from across the state up on Page One, each under its own headline. Adding to the awfulness of the news, for me, is how each story carefully counted those hurt or killed by race, as though that was essential information.
Most of the dispatches are bare-bones factual, but in Hot Springs, a twister "took to his death" an aged man, James H. Jordan, who was very fond of children. It found him, his two grandchildren and two adopted orphans in the woods where they were "picking chips" (I'm guessing kindling). It tore him away from "the tots" and hurled him in front of the Iron Mountain passenger train:
"The train crushed out Jordan's life. When the engine crew reached the body he held a sunbonnet in each of his hands." The children were unhurt.
NEWSBOY SURVIVES
The last paragraph of a storm report from Little Rock caught my eye: "'Jimmy, the newsboy,' at Capitol avenue and Scott street, narrowly escaped serious injury. A large signboard, blown from the second-story of the building, struck him a glancing blow on the head and knocked him down."
Who here was known so well in 1916 that a nickname sufficed as ID?
Intrigued, I went looking in the archives for this newsboy. In March 1909, the Gazette reported that one James Housey, 24, a member of the newspaper's "mailing force," had just had his left leg amputated above the
knee. Three months earlier, he had accidentally shot himself while hunting at Mayflower.
On Aug. 22, 1910, he showed up again under the headline "Newsboy May Become Rich." James E. Housey (aha!, a middle initial), who no longer worked in the mailroom but instead sold newspapers at Fifth and Main streets, was telling folks that oil had been struck on land he owned in West Virginia.
He awaited word from his mother on whether the flow was permanent.
This reporter stated that Housey was 23, that "while out hunting he was accidentally shot in the leg" (wait, by someone else?) and that he was "well known on the streets of Little Rock. He ran away from home when he was 11 years old and has made his way in the world alone since that time."
I couldn't find more. Thwarted, I walked out of the office to stand in succession at each of the eight corners where Main and Scott meet Capitol, hoping to feel ... something other than stupid. What had I expected, psychic vibes from some long-dead, one-legged paper seller?
Back indoors, I sought sympathy from Michelle Goad, the Democrat-Gazette's head librarian and archives manager. She spends her life nose-deep in old news. As we were laughing that Jimmy's amputation had also taken a year off his age, Goad said, "Those old guys were just like us. They made mistakes."
I got to thinking about how right she was. And, hey, what's the one mistake we dread most? Misspelling a name.
Sure enough, while "Jimmy Housey" dropped from the archives after 1916, James, Jimmy and Jimmie Houssey -- double "s" -- were all very present.
In clips that ranged across a decade, Houssey raised funds for the new Pulaski County Boys' Club, organized a hilarious party at the Kempner Theater, bought two-column ads for his shop "Jimmie the Newsboy" at Fifth and Main, "next door to United Cigar Store." I especially like that Jimmie's ads list him as "Jimmy Houssey, Proprietor." Both spellings in the same box.
After 1918, he seemed to vanish.
WHERE'S JIMMY'S OBIT?
The last evidence of Houssey in old Gazettes appeared Sept. 11, 1940, under the hedder "First sold papers here." The Gazette reported, "Although he died a few days ago without one relative in the country, there are those in Little Rock who will remember Jimmy Houssey, one-legged veteran news vendor who sold papers at Main street and Capitol avenue before a cold winter sent him to Southern California."
His death had been mentioned by the Los Angeles Times, which mourned that his LA street corner -- First Street and Broadway -- was "noticeably different" without his "raucous bellow." In 16 years, he had become a memorable presence there, too.
And now we also can remember him.
Next week: "Two Murderers Make Bold Escape From State Farm"
ActiveStyle on 06/06/2016