Blake Dowling: ‘Newspaper Joe’ and the need for community storytellers in a fast-changing world
I turned 50 this year. It seems like everywhere I turn, there is a reminder that my 20s, 30s and 40s are now a memory. The old sayings we used are also starting to become a thing of the past. Sayings like "roll down your windows," "turn up the s…
It seems like everywhere I turn, there is a reminder that my 20s, 30s and 40s are now a memory.
The old sayings we used are also starting to become a thing of the past.
Sayings like "roll down your windows," "turn up the stereo," and "hang up the phone" just really don't make any sense if you think about their actual meaning.
If someone under 40 says, "You sound like a broken record," do they even know what that means?
Or if I see someone under 30 wearing a Def Leppard shirt, I want to be a musical version of the "get off my lawn" guy and say, "Name me one song that band sings, you whipper snapper."
By the way, what is a whipper snapper? A violent fish?
The same could be said for the word "newspaper." We don't hear the phrase very much anymore, and when we do, it's often referring to the online version rather than the papers my generation grew up with.
Mr. Joe Adams and I were at the Holman House in Ozark a couple of years ago.
In the world of newspapers, Tribune Publishing calls itself a "media company" rooted in "award-winning journalism" that operates "titles" like the Orlando Sentinel.
There is no longer any mention of news or newspapers on their about page — and they own seven "newspapers."
What do you call them? The paper?
1977 Dothan pic of me running away from home with my grandmother Nana and a suitcase of stuffed animals.
Regardless of what you call it, I have always looked up to those who have worked in the community newspaper business.
Last week at a conference, I spoke with TaMaryn Waters from the Tallahassee Democrat. I asked her about her background.
Waters has worked for the Democrat for 20 years, making a remarkable career out of sharing the news. I have always enjoyed her writing on our business community. She is always on point, whether sharing news on awards or highlighting a fantastic local business like Ruvos.
On the family front, I have enjoyed a front-row seat in the newspaper business my entire life.
Growing up in Dothan, Alabama, my relative Joe Holman Adams was a newspaperman in Ozark for almost his entire career.
After serving his country as the Assistant Division Public Information Officer with the 101st Airborne Division, Joe returned to Ozark in 1957 and edited the Southern Star until 2021.
Joe's 64-year run beats any I know of and puts him as one of the longest-running editors in the history of newspapers.
One of my grandfather's birthday parties, this one in 2014.
What a legacy.
Sadly, the world lost Mr. Adams this year. He died at 91, and services were held this month at the First United Methodist Church of Ozark.
Joe was a descendant of Reverend Dempsey Dowling, the founder of that church. Sometimes, I miss Alabama, and I will always miss Joe. Those small-town connections have so much character — and just as many stories.
Joe had a story for everything; his legacy was tremendous. My favorite is the story he told each year at my grandfather's birthday.
JD Holman was my grandfather and liked to have a birthday party twice a year. He came up with that idea around age 90, as you never know if I will make it to the next one, he will say, so might as well have a halfway point one.
JD made it to quite a few, living to be 102.
Ozark, Alabama, early 1900s at the Holman Stable.
That story begins in Ozark around 1900 at the Holman Mule stable. In those days, there were no tractors, as Joe would remind us. Mules were the backbone of farming and were not cheap, either. One day, a customer walked into the stable and asked JD if he had any discounts. He replied that he had one mule in the back for $2 but warned the customer that "he doesn't look so good."
The man inspected the mule, said, " He looked fine," and bought it. The next day, he brought him back and told JD that the mule you sold me was blind as a bat; JD replied, "I told you. "He doesn't look so good."
Joe was not just a master storyteller but also a prolific writer.
However, his story and the story of the Southern Star were among the best tales.
It wasn't just about his epic 60-plus-year run, either. The Star was the oldest family-owned business in Alabama and ran since 1867. For over 150 years, the Southern Star brought the news to the region (and still does).
Over the years, Joe included several of my columns in the paper, which meant something special for me. He made sure to run the column I wrote about another legendary relative, Steve Bowman (#30 for the Crimson Tide) who was the leading rusher for 'Bama in 1964 and 1965.
Football season is here, so let's take a minute to celebrate that and Bowman's legacy as we enter the greatest time of the year.
Joe Adams sharing stories with family, including Jeanne Dowling.
Moving forward, there will only be one "Newspaper Joe," as he was called (to separate him from a lawyer with the same name in Ozark), and I salute him and all the community storytellers out there. While the national news might miss the mark, our community newspapers do not and are essential to our nation. While the words and phrases of my generation are retired and replaced with "Bruh," "Brat," "Fire," and other nonsense words the kids today use, community stories will live on. So, for today, let's "hold your horses" (refers to horses on your wagon), "blow off some steam" (referring to old trains), and open up a newspaper for a legend, Mr. Joe Adams.
Thank you for sharing your words, friendship, heart, and stories with us for all those years. Rest in peace, sir.
P.S.: To answer the earlier question about "whipper snapper," it is a word from the 1600s, which implies something very noisy and of little importance. So, not a fish. Now you know.
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