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OCTOBER 2026

CAN A BLACK GAY MAN STILL CALL THE HOGS? BY FREDERICK MCKINDRA

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OCTOBER 2026

FEATURES 33 ON THE ROAD (TRIP) AGAIN 34 THE WINE-DING ROAD TO ALTUS

Is Natural State vino any good? We visited Arkansas Wine Country to find out. By Matt McNair

40 SHREVEPORTLANDIA

Good art, great food, zero pretension. By Matt Campbell

44 PINE BLUFF ON A BUDGET

A casino, cannabis and clearance racks? Ignore the bad press and go get high on this Delta delight. By Mandy Keener

48 MAKE A LAKE FOR IT! New trail connections around Lake Maumelle lure city slickers out of town. By Elizabeth L. Cline

9 THE FRONT

15 THE TO-DO LIST

Arkansas PRIDEFest hits Capitol Avenue, “The Age of Anxiety” at AMFA, Ratboys at Hillcrest HarvestFest, “The Great Gatsby” at Ballet Arkansas and more.

JESS MILLER

Q&A: Meet Mike, Keesha and Elliott, the Motley crew behind Motley’s Pumpkin Patch. First Person: Will AI DQ your favorite candidates at the polls? Big Pic: Have a hyper-local Halloween with these homegrown costume ideas. HOP IN: Our annual Road Trip issue takes readers to Lake Maumelle, Altus, Pine Bluff and Shreveport, Louisiana, where The Strand Theatre opened in 1925.

28 NEWS & POLITICS

A group of dark-sky enthusiasts are doing their part to get light pollution out of Little Rock. By Elizabeth L. Cline

57 CULTURE

What does it mean to be Black and gay at the U of A? By Frederick McKindra

66 THE OBSERVER

This Halloween tale is batshit crazy. ON THE COVER: Frederick McKindra, Razorback skeptic. Photo by Brian Chilson. 4 OCTOBER 2026

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EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Austin Gelder CREATIVE DIRECTOR Mandy Keener MANAGING EDITOR Byron Tate PRINT EDITOR Daniel Grear INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER Matt Campbell AGRI AND ENVIRONMENT REPORTER Elizabeth L. Cline REPORTER Milo Strain VIBE CHECKER Stephanie Smittle EDITOR EMERITUS Max Brantley CONTRIBUTING EDITOR Mara Leveritt PHOTOGRAPHER Brian Chilson ADVERTISING ART DIRECTOR Mike Spain GRAPHIC DESIGNER Katie Hassell DIRECTOR OF ADVERTISING/ SPECIAL PUBLICATIONS PUBLISHER Brooke Wallace SENIOR ACCOUNT EXECUTIVE Wendy Hickingbotham ACCOUNT EXECUTIVES Terrell Jacob, Kaitlyn Looney ADVERTISING TRAFFIC MANAGER Roland R. Gladden DIRECTOR OF DEVELOPMENT Brock Hyland DIGITAL MARKETING DIRECTOR Jada Ellis EVENTS DIRECTOR Donavan Suitt IT DIRECTOR Robert Curfman CIRCULATION DIRECTOR Anitra Lovelace BILLING/COLLECTIONS Charlotte Key CHAIR MAN Lindsey Millar NACHO EDITOR Rhett Brinkley PRODUCTION MANAGER Ira Hocut (1954-2009) CONTROLLER Weldon Wilson (1967-2025)

EARLY VOTING BEGINS OCTOBER 19. ELECTION DAY IS NOV 3.

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ARKANSAS TIMES (ISSN 0164-6273) is published each month by Arkansas Times Limited Partnership, 201 East Markham Street, Suite 150, Little Rock, Arkansas, 72201, phone (501) 3752985. Periodical postage paid at Little Rock, Arkansas, and additional mailing offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to ARKANSAS TIMES, 201 EAST MARKHAM STREET, SUITE 150, Little Rock, AR, 72201. Subscription prices are $60 for one year. For subscriber service call (501) 375-2985. Current single-copy price is $5, free in Pulaski County. Single issues are available by mail at $5.00 each, postage paid. Payment must accompany all orders. Reproduction or use in whole or in part of the contents without the written consent of the publishers is prohibited. Manuscripts and artwork will not be returned or acknowledged unless sufficient return postage and a self-addressed stamped envelope are included. All materials are handled with due care; however, the publisher assumes no responsibility for care and safe return of unsolicited materials. All letters sent to ARKANSAS TIMES will be treated as intended for publication and are subject to ARKANSAS TIMES’ unrestricted right to edit or to comment editorially. ©2026 ARKANSAS TIMES LIMITED PARTNERSHIP

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THE FRONT Q&A

‘IT’S A THROWBACK KIND OF THING’ A Q&A WITH MIKE AND KEESHA MOTLEY OF MOTLEY’S FARM.

headset. Keesha: It’s his claim to fame. Everywhere you go in Little Rock with Randy, people recognize him as the pig race guy. He has a lot of jokes. It’s a comedy routine.

KATIE CHILDS

In a world where it’s become nearly impossible to unplug, Motley’s Farm in south Little Rock (13724 Sandy Ann Drive) offers a homespun refuge from the chaos of daily life. A bona fide family operation founded in 1982, the farm is now run by husband-and-wife duo Mike and Keesha Motley, who took over from Mike’s parents, Randy and Linda Motley, in 2023. The Motleys specialize in providing Central Arkansas with its annual supplies of Natural State-grown pumpkins and Christmas trees, but a visit to the farm involves so much more than seasonal wares. Each year’s guests, including over 5,000 students who stop by on fall field trips, can expect an ever-increasing roster of activities and attractions such as pig races, magic shows, a 300-foot slide, a petting zoo, a three-story wooden pirate ship, fields packed with photofriendly zinnias and sunflowers, and tons of fresh-made grub. We chatted with the Motleys right before the start of their busy season, which runs this year from Sept. 26-Nov. 1 and Nov. 14-Dec. 13. You can find more information at motleyspumpkinpatch.com and motleystreefarm.com.

FAVORITE BOOK? Anything by David Sedaris FAVORITE MOVIE? “Raising Arizona” (1987) FAVORITE RESTAURANTS IN LITTLE ROCK? La Hacienda, The Oyster Bar, Rex’s

Do you grow all of the pumpkins and Christmas trees you sell? Mike: We have a finite amount of land here and it’s hard to keep up with the demand, so we grow some of the pumpkins but ship in a lot, which is a common model for agritourism. We work with farmers in the state that have huge farms. Christmas tree farming is the heavy agricultural lift of what we do. We produce almost 100% of those.

trees, and we do a kind of crop rotation because it takes between about four and six years for one to mature. Keesha: Not every tree is going to be for sale every year because we need a certain percentage of 7-foot trees, a certain percentage of 2-foot trees, and so on. Sometimes, someone will be like, “This is the perfect tree. Can I have this one?” And sometimes we give in. But, for the most part, we have to save it, so next year we can have a 13-foot tree. Mike: People come out early and tag their tree. Kids love it because that means Christmas is on.

What does growing and caring for pumpkins and Christmas trees entail? Mike: A lot of irrigation. When you have really hot, really dry periods like we’ve had, you have to control for that. If you’re having record highs all of the time, that can slow things down. You’re always surveying for one of about 10 types of bugs that might try to eat up your vines, pumpkins or gourds. The difference with the trees is that they all have to be individually hand-trimmed because they don’t naturally grow into a beautiful Christmas tree shape. We’re growing, at any one time, thousands of

You offer a surprising number of attractions and activities at the farm, but the one I’m most curious about is the pig races. Mike: The pig race is real live pigs, running around a dirt track like a miniature version of Oaklawn with four to six piglets — usually siblings — that are about 8 to 12 weeks old when we start. There are four races a day, three laps per race. They have little hurdles they have to jump over in one race. Everyone gets to cheer for their favorite pig. And they’re trained with treats. They have a really good life. We have a pig race announcer, which is usually my dad. He has a little

What’s new this year? Mike: This year, we’re adding what we’re calling our “corn castle,” which is a 30-by-50 pole barn that will be filled with 25,000 pounds of corn kernels as a sensory play pit. We already had one that was kind of small, and then we visited other farms and thought, “Yeah, this should be a lot bigger,” so we expanded it. I found a quote on your website from the Arkansas Times praising y’all’s burger offerings. Talk to me about the food situation out at Motley’s Farm. Mike: We do burgers. We do barbecue. Popcorn. Snowcones. Twenty-five or 30 flavors of fudge. Keesha: The burgers are really good. They’re similar to the burgers at Midtown Billiards. We essentially have multiple restaurants within this crazy business. And the food here is not just good enough for a pumpkin patch; it’s better than you think for a pumpkin patch. Better than necessary for a pumpkin patch. That’s our slogan. [laughs] We’ve had a huge list of really talented people in the restaurant business work out here with us. Even Adam Sweet from Problem Child has helped us. What other agritourism farms in Arkansas do you recommend? Mike: Peebles Farm in Augusta, Jackson Farm near Jonesboro and Rivercrest Orchard in Fayetteville. They’re all unique. Nobody’s doing it quite the same way. What keeps you doing this work? Mike: You’ll have a 5-year-old say, “This is the best day of my life.” That’s kind of the best thing you can hear from a kid in a world with social media and people being on their phone all day. We want people to take pictures and post them on social media, but in terms of what kind of experience this is, it could be the ’80s or the ’70s. It’s a throwback kind of thing. If people are looking for something where they can turn off the noise of what’s going on in the world for a day, you can do that here. —Daniel Grear ARKTIMES.COM

OCTOBER 2026 9

THE FRONT FIRST PERSON

SUMMER OF TECHNOLOGICAL RECOIL BIG-TECH BACKLASH MAKES ITS WAY TO THE POLLS. BY JAY BARTH

10 OCTOBER 2026

ARKANSAS TIMES

Daily users of AI technology were less opposed to having data centers in their communities. However, even there, a majority of daily users still didn’t want one close by. Somewhat counterintuitively, it was young voters who oppose data centers emphatically who are most likely to be daily AI users. Seeing the antipathy toward data centers, politicians began to shift in their views. Generally, Democrats were more elegant in their embrace of opposition, from Pulaski County judge candidate Wendell Griffen to U.S. Senate candidate for Michigan Abdul El-Sayed, who put it simply, “[P]eople really effing hate data centers.” Republicans often tried to dance away from data centers, but had more difficulty because of their deep reliance on political money from the tech industry. In perhaps the most cynical approach to data centers to date, Texas Gov. Greg Abbott reacted to anger about data centers by issuing an executive order placing a moratorium on data center construction in the state until just after Election Day. From data centers, the AI backlash quickly spread to Flock Safety cameras, the AI-driven cameras that process photos of all license plate numbers and other details about cars no matter their engagement in any criminal activity. The linkage of such “crime-fighting” tools to AI has suddenly reframed the debate as an invasion into the privacy of innocent folks. In mid-September, I was in Mayflower to moderate a League of Women Voters forum in a community where the two Flock cameras at use had been ripped up, along with the city’s contract with the company. I asked a question about the issue and the role of technology in crime fighting more generally. To a person, the candidates for city office agreed that there was no role for this technology in their city, and “invasion of privacy” was regularly used as the reason. I don’t know these particular candidates’ personal views on national politics, but I know their neighbors went for Donald Trump by 41 points in 2024. The candidates’ answers could have been those of candidates in the most liberal enclave of Brooklyn, albeit with different accents. This shows the extraordinary way in which these issues reflect the horseshoe theory, where those on the far left and far right come together to become the most emphatic opponents on a topic. Now we are seeing statewide candidates in conservative states like Montana centering their campaigns on the Flock camera issue.

And then there is the issue of regulating AI more broadly. Suddenly, American AI executives have witnessed a series of disconcerting threats, including biological weapons and autonomous warfare, hinted at by the actions of the Frankenstein they helped to create. As a result, these AI execs have called for an industrywide slowdown and increased federal regulations to put up industry guardrails before it gets out of hand. AI accelerationists, however, have Trump’s ear. The president has consistently opposed any slowdowns on AI development in the United States, arguing it would stymie the country’s competitive advantage against China. As he wrote in a Truth Social post in mid-September, “There is a SICK conspiracy going on against AI and Data Centers, and the only one that is happy about it is China. WHOEVER WINS AI, WINS! We are leading China, and all others, and will continue to do so.” Considering the speed at which data centers and Flock cameras became central for voters across America, there now seems little doubt that the more complex issue of AI and its regulation by federal policy will be red hot by the time the 2028 presidential primaries begin. It’s also clear the Democrats will be pro-regulation, although they may differ on the shape such regulations take. The remaining mystery is whether Republicans break from Trump on this key (arguably existential) issue or remain true believers that “WHOEVER WINS AI, WINS!”

BRIAN CHILSON

he public reaction against the technological advances brought by artificial intelligence began with data centers — those loud, hulking utility eaters that provide few permanent jobs in a community. However, as the spring of 2026 entered a summer that would never end, the great tech backlash rapidly expanded to Flock Safety cameras and to AI more broadly. It is now a set of issues blobbed together that equate to fundamental doubt about whether the promise of technological advance through AI is promising at all. Moreover, partly thanks to President Trump’s hard-headedness on the issues, the data center/Flock/AI issue joins the economy, the war in Iran and corruption as a driver of the 2026 election and is emerging as THE issue of the 2028 presidential race. As big tech’s impact on their neighbors became more obvious, the backlash began in earnest. These data centers became a traditional NIMBY issue like the numerous land-use issues that had preceded it. However, the passion around data centers, even for people not facing imminent threat of a new one moving into their town, showed it was something different and bigger. Data centers are now a public-opinion loser in every state. Close to home, in a 2nd Congressional District survey in August, the Talk Business & Politics-Hendrix College poll took up data center regulation as the Pulaski County Quorum Court’s debate over this hot topic was in full tilt. Specifically, a question asked respondents’ views on “the construction of a data center in your area to support artificial intelligence, or AI, technology in the U.S.” In the 2nd District, 7 in 10 voters either “strongly” or “somewhat” opposed the notion, with 52% in the “strongly” camp, slightly higher than national numbers. What is distinctive about the data center issue is the universality of opposition to them. As shown in the 2nd District data, Republicans are slightly more open to their arrival than Democrats or independents, but a majority of GOPers are opposed. Although different age groups, education levels, geographies, genders and races have all had emphatically different worldviews about politics during the Trump era, they agree on this topic. Opposition by the youngest voters is perhaps the most telling, since younger adopters have historically driven technological innovation.

Jay Barth is a native Arkansan, longtime professor of politics at Hendrix College, and an expert on the politics of Arkansas and the South.

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OCTOBER 2026 11

THE FRONT BIG PIC

HALLOWEEN IS IN THE HEADLINES COSTUME IDEAS INSPIRED BY REAL-LIFE ARKANSAS HORROR STORIES CIRCA 2026.

THE E. COLI IN DIERKS LAKE Great news for last-minute planners: Nobody really knows what E. coli looks like, anyway. Transform into the terror awaiting Howard County swimmers by simply affixing crepe paper streamers to a rain poncho, or your fuzziest pajamas! Make the costume multisensory by tromping through dog poo to add an olfactory effect.

U.S. SEN. TOM COTTON Just a classic white-sheet ghost outfit with an out-of-state address, a slice of birthday cake in the hand and two soulless holes for eyes; you’ve got this!

Spa Cha re nge ? A DATA CENTER Got a cardboard box, a Sharpie and the internal body temperature of a thousand suns? This one’s for you. If you’re not carrying a candy bucket or your purse, tote a dropper of brown food coloring and delight fellow partygoers by discoloring their drinking water; it’s fun for the whole family! Want suggestions on what else to add? Just ask ChatGPT; it’s completely free to use and has zero consequences for the collective future of humanity! 12 OCTOBER 2026

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The costume clock is ticking, and if you don’t want to wake up in November awash in a sea of what-ifs, it’s time to get cracking on your Halloween fit. Trick-ortreaters of all genders should, if the spirits so move them, absolutely be dressing up as Dolly Parton, or perhaps the late and legendary Arkansas fiddler Violet Hensley. But if blood-curdling garb is more your style, dig into your crafting closet and drum up one of these genuinely horrifying ensembles.

CENTRAL HIGH BASEBALL AND SOFTBALL FIELDS What better way to lampoon inequity in high school sports funding than this his-and-hers charmer? Lots of room for interpretation in this couples costume, but the key here is rags and riches: The boys’ baseball field should channel all the glitz and glamour of a $5 million facility, while the girls’ softball field should evoke “poor drainage, inadequate seating and a single locker room too small for the team.”

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ARKANSAS MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS

BY DANIEL GREAR, DANIEL FORD, STEPHANIE SMITTLE, MILO STRAIN AND OMAYA JONES

‘THE AGE OF ANXIETY: GERMAN EXPRESSIONISM IN ART AND FILM’ FRIDAY 10/9-SUNDAY 1/10/27. ARKANSAS MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS. FREE.

There’s nothing quite like the drama, darkness and distortions of German Expressionism to ring in the Halloween season. In “The Age of Anxiety: German Expressionism in Art and Film,” the latest major exhibition to come to the Arkansas Museum of Fine Arts, dozens of mostly German artists working in the tumultuous wake of World War I — from Bernhard Kretzschmar to Max Beckmann to Käthe Kollwitz to George Grosz and beyond — will be brought together alongside imagery from aesthetically concordant silent films such as Robert Wiene’s “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” (1920), F.W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu” (1922) and Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” (1927), all of which will be screened for free with historical introductions provided by AMFA staff throughout the exhibition’s run. Head to arkmfa.org/ series/the-age-of-anxiety for more information. DG ARKTIMES.COM

OCTOBER 2026 15

HILLCREST HARVESTFEST

MILES KALCHIK

SATURDAY 10/17. HILLCREST. 11 A.M.7 P.M. FREE.

CINEMA I/O PRESENTS: ‘MARNIE’ TUESDAY 10/20. CALS RON ROBINSON THEATER. 7 P.M. FREE.

“Marnie” — Alfred Hitchcock’s “suspenseful sex mystery,” according to its 1964 promotional tagline — occupies a unique place in the director’s oeuvre. After what is considered one of the greatest 10-year runs in anyone’s filmography, perhaps Hitchcock felt secure enough to make what is seemingly an unhinged and transparent display of his own perversions. Marnie Edgar (Tippi Hedren) is a compulsive thief with a childhood trauma (that we get in bits and pieces throughout the film) who steals from her employers before disappearing. She eventually steals from Mark Rutland (Sean Connery), a boss who becomes obsessed with her and then blackmails her into marrying him. The film only grows more intense from there. Reserve your spot for this month’s Cinema I/O Presents screening — a recent rebranding of the Arkansas Times Film Series — at ronrobinsontheater.simpletix.com. OJ 16 OCTOBER 2026

ARKANSAS TIMES

The standard trappings of Hillcrest Harvestfest — autumnal ambiance, food trucks and vendors, a dog show, etc. — are lovely enough on their own, but this annual fall-forward fête benefiting the Allen School got a lot hipper in 2024, when organizers began booking larger, non-local bands to headline the event. Topping the bill this year is long-tenured but still-ascendant Chicago band Ratboys. Belying a name that suggests a harsher vibe, Ratboys’ sound is approachable and expansive, folding in elements of Americana and emo into their beautifully written songs. Fronted by Julia Steiner and together since 2010, the band released their newest album “Singin’ to an Empty Chair” in February, a new high-water mark in an already impressive discography that landed on roundups of the year’s best albums so far from Rolling Stone, Paste, Consequence and Stereogum. My favorite version of the band is when they channel fellow Chicagoans Wilco (think “Impossible Germany”-era Wilco, in particular), building out their tuneful songs into atmospheric but solidly structured jams that crescendo to satisfying conclusions. Austin, Texas, indie rockers Good Looks and locals Head Empty will perform earlier in the day. DF

SAM STAR

WEDNESDAY 10/7. CLUB SWAY. 8 P.M. $24-$34. When it comes to the ever-expanding roster of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” queens, the Bible Belt has always punched above its weight. Exhibit 1 of many: the pageantpolished Sam Star, a sparkly perfectionist of a theater kid from Birmingham, Alabama, who, as a youth, got teased for his “government” last name, Perky, and who has since turned “perky” into a best practice. Coming into the finish line at a joint 3rd/4th place on season 17, Star’s star moments included but were not limited to: appearing as a dead ringer for Anna Nicole Smith in an acting competition; a touching makeover challenge with his mother; and designing some truly immaculate runway gowns, thanks to the sewing skills he learned as a child from his grandmother. Star appears at Sway as part of the club’s Hard Candy event series, and on a school night worth calling in late to work the next day for. Get tickets at samstarlr.eventbrite.com. SS

ARKANSAS PRIDEFEST AND PARADE

Since its inception in 2013, Central Arkansas Pride’s annual celebration of Natural State queerness has taken place in October to coincide with National Coming Out Day and National LGBTQ History Month. It may seem like an odd choice, given that most of the country observes the holiday in June, but by the time the brutality of Arkansas summer rolls around every year, I’m always convinced that the organizers of the Arkansas PRIDEFest and Parade (who recently dropped the “Central” from the gathering’s name in an effort to encourage statewide participation) know what they’re doing. The main free event this year, held on Capitol Avenue from 11 a.m.-6 p.m., includes performances by former Miss Gay America winner Dominique Sanchez, bilingual drag queen Alexis Mateo and headliner Adam Mac, a queer country singer who will also perform with his band The Cowgays at The Hall at 7:30 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 18. Other PRIDEFest happenings, most of which are ticketed with a portion of proceeds benefitting the cause, include a drag pageant at Triniti Night Club at 7 p.m. on Thursday, Oct. 15; a handson training for those interested in speaking on behalf of the queer community during the legislative session at the Arkansas State Capitol from 2-5 p.m. on Friday, Oct. 16; a poetry reading and open mic featuring Kai Coggin, Lydia von Hof, Bryan Borland and more at Vino’s Brew Pub from 5-9 p.m. on Friday, Oct. 16; and a brunch at the Mosaic Templars Cultural Center from 11 a.m.-1 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 18. You can find more information at arpride.org. DG

DAVIDE LAFFE

SATURDAY 10/17. CAPITOL AVE. 11 A.M.-6 P.M. FREE.

HALLOWEEN EVE COVER SHOWS

FRIDAY 10/30. WHITE WATER TAVERN, VINO’S BREW PUB. 8 P.M. $15 EACH. The spooky season tradition of bands dressing up as other bands — well, at least musically — remains as charming as ever. While it pains me to imagine you making this difficult decision, it’s my journalistic duty to let you know that two of Little Rock’s finest venues — the White Water Tavern and Vino’s Brew Pub — are simultaneously offering equally enticing bills of musical mimicry on Halloween Eve. At the White Water, you’ll find Little Rock metal band Coachlight taking on the stylings of Foreigner and power-pop extraordinaries The Easys (fronted, in rare form, by the angel-voiced Stephanie Smittle) masquerading as Blondie. Down the road at Vino’s, a slew of classic heavy metal impersonators await you — Tripwire as Metallica, Vulgar Display as Pantera and Speed Queen as Black Sabbath — as well as H! VltG3, a Linkin Park cover band. Should you discover that choosing is simply too hard, best of luck managing the cinematically tropey shuffle between one location and the other. Get tickets at whitewatertavern.com and vinosbrewpub.com. DG ARKTIMES.COM

OCTOBER 2026 17

JUDE BROTHERS

DEERHOOF

SATORU EGUCHI

THURSDAY 10/12. WHITE WATER TAVERN. 8 P.M. $12.

WEDNESDAY 10/14. GEORGE’S MAJESTIC LOUNGE, FAYETTEVILLE. 8 P.M. $25. Experimental indie rockers Deerhoof (not to be confused with experimental indie rockers Deerhunter, themselves not to be confused with experimental indie rockers The Dear Hunter), are bringing their wonky, noisy selves down to Fayetteville this month. With a constantly evolving sound ranging from pure noise to meticulously arranged progressive rock (though that admittedly doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the deep well that is Deerhoof’s discography), the most consistent things about Deerhoof — besides their relentless release and touring schedule over three decades — are their unpredictability and originality. I’m personally quite partial to the lush, dreamy pop of albums like 2014’s “La Isla Bonita” and 2016’s “The Magic,” but I’ve never thrown one of their records on and been disappointed. There are few bands as fiercely dedicated to their art and as unwaveringly independent as Deerhoof, and we’re lucky to have them here. Little Rock’s own Royal Cradle is billed as support. Get tickets at georgesmajesticlounge.com. MS

BALLET ARKANSAS: ‘THE GREAT GATSBY’

As if recently arrived through a portal from some more pastoral world than our own, Jude Brothers makes music that sounds like a golden-hour walk through the woods feels. Accompanied by harp and guitar — or sometimes accompanied by nothing at all — the Fayetteville folk singer uses their rich voice to conjure a lush universe populated by fairies, dogwood trees and doomed lovers. While the harp, bucolic imagery and knack for knotty wordplay all make Joanna Newsom an apt comparison, Brothers is a singular talent who further cements their place in the national folk scene with each successive album. On Oct. 8 at the White Water Tavern, Brothers will celebrate the September release of the newest entry into their discography, “Dogwood Maiden Voyage,” a stunner that breathtakingly expands Brothers’ sound by adding strings and vocal harmonies to their normally sparse arrangements. The White Water is already a place that often feels carved out from ordinary day-to-day existence, but a full-band Jude Brothers show, with fellow harpist Stephanie Smittle serving as opener, makes for an especially otherworldly experience not to be missed. Get tickets at whitewatertavern.com. DF

If you saw Ballet Arkansas’ production of “The Great Gatsby” in 2021, you might be wondering whether it’s worth your time to come out for the company’s fresh rendition of the 1925 F. Scott Fitzgerald classic this October. The answer is: absolutely. While the earlier iteration was limited in scope by pandemic-era restrictions, the new staging is “all immersive,” according to Executive and Artistic Director Michael Fothergill. “Usually, when you go and sit down for a traditional ballet performance, you’re in a seat and the performers are on stage,” he told the Arkansas Times. “But in this instance, the performers are in the auditorium. They’re seated next to people. They’re making use of the overhangs that overlook the stage. They’re making use of the Starry Night hallway.” Steeped in the music of Roaring Twenties figures like George Gershwin and Fats Waller and packed with contemporary dance choreographed by Fothergill, the show is especially momentous because it marks the beginning of Michael and Catherine Fothergill’s 10th season as the leaders of Ballet Arkansas, which is offering four performances of “The Great Gatsby”: 7 p.m. on Friday, Oct. 23; 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. on Saturday, Oct. 24; and 2 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 25. Get tickets at balletarkansas.org. DG 18 OCTOBER 2026

ARKANSAS TIMES

KIM AWA

FRIDAY 10/23-SUNDAY 10/25. ARKANSAS MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS. $25-$50.

Shari and Lamar Steiger Family Harrison and Rhonda French Family Frederick and Shelby Gans Stephen and Barbara Heyman

William and Beverly Bickell Willie and Brenda Godwin Esther Silver-Parker Jeff & Sarah Teague | Citizens Bank

Grandma Moses, The Old Oaken Bucket, 1943, oil on high-density fiberboard, Collection of Frank Tosto, Promised gift to the Smithsonian American Art Museum, in memory of Dr. R. David Sudarsky, © Grandma Moses Properties Co., NY Major support is provided by the Herbert Waide Hemphill Jr. American Folk Art Fund and the Smithsonian American Women’s History Initiative Pool, administered by the Smithsonian American Women’s History Museum.

Grandma Moses: A good day’s work is organized by

Now open until March 29

goodday’s day’s work AAgood work

Now open until March 29

A good day’s work

Now open until March 29 Grandma Moses: A good day’s work is organized by Shari and Lamar Steiger Family Harrison and Rhonda French Family Frederick and Shelby Gans Stephen and Barbara Heyman

Shari and Lamar Steiger Family Harrison and Rhonda French Family Frederick and Shelby Gans Stephen and Barbara Heyman

William and Beverly Bickell Willie and Brenda Godwin Esther Silver-Parker Jeff & Sarah Teague | Citizens Bank

Major support is provided by the Herbert Waide Hemphill Jr. American Folk Art Fund and the Smithsonian American Women’s History Initiative Pool, administered by the Smithsonian American Women’s History Museum.

Grandma Moses: A good day’s work is organized by

Grandma Moses, The Old Oaken Bucket, 1943, oil on high-density fiberboard, Major support is provided by the Herbert Waide Hemphill Collection of Frank Tosto, Promised gift to the American Museum, American Jr. Smithsonian American Folk Art Fund and Art the Smithsonian in memory of Dr. R. David Sudarsky, © Grandma Moses Properties Co.,administered NY Women’s History Initiative Pool, by the Smithsonian American Women’s History Museum.

OCTOBER 2026 19

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OCTOBER 9-17, 2026

OPENING NIGHT GALA WILD INSIDE Director: Penny Lane USA | 95m Friday, October 9 at 7:00 PM, Oaklawn Event Center

In this modern day fairy tale, acclaimed filmmaker Penny Lane tells the story of Flaco, a Eurasian eagle-owl who escapes his enclosure in New York’s Central Park Zoo and learns to survive in the wilds of Manhattan. Flaco quickly develops an international following, becoming one of the city’s most recognized celebrities. Film participants and wildlife photographers Jacqueline Emery and David Lei in attendance.

CENTERPIECE GALA

THE OTHER SIDE OF MEMORY Director: Nick Capezzera USA | 84m WORLD PREMIERE Tuesday, October 13 at 7:00 PM, The Arlington Resort Hotel & Spa, Cinema 1 With affecting vulnerability, director Nick Capezzera documents a decade longsearch to locate his Korean birth parents and reconnect with a cultural heritage he left behind as an infant. As Nick journeys to Seoul to trace the threads of his origin story, a more complex understanding of identity begins to emerge, unraveling his previous contemplations around family and bringing new meaning to his ideas of belonging. Both a personal exploration, and a cross-national examination of nature and nurture, Capezzera enters challenging grey areas in his quest for answers. Director Nick Capezzera and Producer Jiefei Yuan in attendance. 20 OCTOBER 2026

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CLOSING NIGHT GALA

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BOB AND DAVID CLIMB MACHU PICCHU Director: Michael LaHaie USA | 80m Friday, October 16 at 7:00 PM, Oaklawn Event Center Bob Odenkirk and David Cross reunite for an unforgettable adventure that pushes their friendship and bodies to the limit. After Bob’s near-fatal heart attack, David proposes one more ridiculous challenge: climb Machu Picchu before their bodies tell them otherwise. A hilarious trek through the Peruvian mountains brings sore feet, questionable pillows, and plenty of laughs as the two reflect on decades of comedy, the friendship that shaped their careers, and their comedic sensibilities that impacted generations. Director Michael LaHaie in attendance.

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BOX OFFICE INFO

The easiest and best way to purchase tickets for the festival is to visit www.hsdfi.org and follow the link to our festival Eventive site. Tickets may be purchased on our website up to 15 minutes prior to showtime. Afterwards, tickets must be purchased in-person at the Box Office. Tickets and passes may also be purchased in person at our Box Office at any time during box office hours.

HSDFF BOX OFFICE HOURS & LOCATIONS October 9 (Opening Night Gala): 3pm - 7:30pm at the Oaklawn Event Center

October 10 - 17: 9am - 7:00pm at the Arlington Resort Hotel on the 2nd floor

October 16 (Closing Night Gala): 6pm - 8:00pm At the Oaklawn Event Center

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OCTOBER 9-17, 2026 SPECIAL EVENT SCREENING: THE STORY OF DOCUMENTARY FILM Director: Mark Cousins | USA, United Kingdom | 946m

Acclaimed filmmaker Mark Cousins (The Story of Film: An Odyssey) presents his latest epic masterpiece about the endlessly fascinating world of film — this time turning his attention to the cinema that is nearest and dearest to HSDFF audiences: the documentary. Spanning 16 hours in 16 chapters, Cousins covers the sweeping history of documentary, from its late 19th-century origins to today. As always, the journey is international in scope, surprising in its revelations, and inspiring in its creative exploration.

THE STORY OF DOCUMENTARY FILM

The Story of Documentary Film pass, which provides access to all eight programs of the film, can be purchased for $80. Each two-hour program features two chapters. Separate admission or All Access, Film Buff or Day Pass required for each program. For screening dates and times and for pass info, go to HSDFI.ORG

SCHEDULE AT A GLANCE

FRIDAY | OCTOBER 9 6:15 PM Champagne Toast | Oaklawn Pre Function Center 7:00 PM Opening Night Gala: Wild Inside | Oaklawn Event Center 9:00 PM Opening Night Party | Oaklawn Event Center

2:30 PM To Hold a Mountain | Cinema 1 4:45 PM Rising Through the Fray | Cinema 2 5:00 PM Once Upon a Time in Harlem | Cinema 1 6:30 PM Hot Springs Village Shorts Program | Hot Springs Village, Woodlands Auditorium 7:15 PM Shorts Program: Where We Stand | Cinema 2 7:30 PM Documentary Roundtable | Cinema 1 9:00 PM Party at Superior Bathhouse Brewery Sponsored by ESPN Films” 30 for 30

SATURDAY | OCTOBER 10 9:00 AM Wellness Series: Yoga on the Rooftop | Arlington Hotel Rooftop (7th floor) 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 1 & 2 | Cinema 2 9:30 AM Joybubbles | Cinema 1 11:30 AM My DNA | Cinema 1 12:15 PM Shorts Program: Lasting Legacies | Cinema 2 2:00 PM Shumei – The Living Legacy of Kabuki | Cinema 1 2:30 PM TBD Slot | Cinema 2 4:00 PM Darlene Love: I Know Where I've Been | Cinema 1 5:00 PM Raptor demonstration followed by Jackie & Shadow WIP Screening | Cinema 2 6:45 PM Time Warp | Cinema 1 7:15 PM Secret Screening | Cinema 2 9:00 PM Party at ESQ Realty Group SUNDAY | OCTOBER 11 9:00 AM Wellness Series: Guided Hike & Mountain Top Meditation | Arlington Front Steps 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 3 & 4 | Cinema 2 10:00 AM Union Town | Cinema 1 12:00 PM The Lorraine | Cinema 2 12:30 PM Closure | Cinema 1 2:30 PM Shorts Program: A Light in the Dark | Cinema 2 3:00 PM American Doctor | Cinema 1 5:00 PM Pinball | Cinema 2 6:00 PM Career Achievement Award & 30th Anniversary Screening of Paradise Lost | Cinema 1 7:00 PM Natural State Shorts Program | Cinema 2 9:00 PM Party at Deluca's Pizzeria MONDAY | OCTOBER 12 9:15 AM Filmmaker Forum Day 1 | Cinema 2 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 5 & 6 | Cinema 1 12:00 PM Give Me the Ball! | Cinema 1 22 OCTOBER 2026

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TUESDAY | OCTOBER 13 9:30 AM Aanikoobijigan [ancestor/greatgrandparent/great-grandchild] | Cinema 1 9:30 AM Filmmaker Forum Day 2 | Cinema 2 11:30 AM Tutu | Cinema 1 2:00 PM TBD SLOT | Cinema 1 4:30 PM Inception to Projection & HSDFF Documentary Workshop Showcase | Cinema 1 5:00 PM Cornbread Mafia | Cinema 2 7:00 PM Centerpiece Gala: The Other Side of Memory | Cinema 1 7:15 PM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 7 & 8 | Cinema 2 9:00 PM Party at Copper Penny Pub WEDNESDAY | OCTOBER 14 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 9 & 10 | Cinema 2 10:00 AM Runa Simi | Cinema 1 12:00 PM Jane Elliot Against the World | Cinema 1 12:00 PM Rex Nelson Presentation: Mr. Sam, Arkansas, and the Making of a Global Business Empire | Cinema 2 1:00 PM National Park College Shorts Program | National Park College - Student Commons Building 1:30 PM Shorts Program: Personal Portraits | Cinema 2 2:00 PM Edward Said: Between Worlds | Cinema 1 3:30 PM Crocodile | Cinema 2 4:30 PM One in a Million | Cinema 1 5:30 PM Shorts Program: Among the Animals | Cinema 2 7:00 PM Jean-Michel Basquiat | Cinema 1 7:30 PM Hanging by a Wire | Cinema 2 9:00 PM Party at The Mountain Valley Spring Water Visitor Center & Museum

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THURSDAY | OCTOBER 15 9:00 AM Student Screening: Flag | Cinema 1 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 11 & 12 | Cinema 2 11:30 AM Emerging Filmmakers Program | Cinema 1 12:00 PM A City in the Forest | Cinema 2 2:00 PM Avedon | Cinema 1 2:30 PM Shorts Program: Beyond 9 to 5 | Cinema 2 4:30 PM Tehran, Under the Skin | Cinema 2 5:00 PM The Baddest Speechwriter of All: Screening and 'Top Docs' Live Podcast with Ben Proudfoot | Cinema 1 7:00 PM Pretenders | Cinema 1 7:15 PM Carl Sagan: We Are Made of Star Stuff | Cinema 2 9:00 PM Party at The Club House FRIDAY | OCTOBER 16 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 13 & 14 | Cinema 2 10:00 AM Ceremony | Cinema 1 12:00 PM The Oldest Person in the World | Cinema 1 12:30 PM Jaripeo preceded by The Floor Remembers | Cinema 2 2:00 PM 14th | Cinema 1 2:30 PM Shorts Program: The Spirit of Competition | Cinema 2 4:15 PM Black Zombie | Cinema 1 7:00 PM Closing Night Gala: Bob & David Climb Machu Picchu | Oaklawn Event Center 9:00 PM Closing Night Party | Oaklawn Event Center SATURDAY | OCTOBER 17 9:00 AM Wellness Series: Sound Bath | Conference Room C. Arlington Hotel 9:30 AM The Story of Documentary Film: Chapters 15 & 16 | Cinema 2 10:30 AM Knife: The Attempted Murder of Salman Rushdie | Cinema 1 12:00 PM Shorts Program: Revealing the Truth | Cinema 2 1:00 PM Sumo: Spirit Weighs Nothing | Cinema 1 2:30 PM 10s Across the Borders | Cinema 2 3:30 PM Best of Fest Screening: Film TBA | Cinema 1 5:00 PM Best of Fest Screening: Film TBA | Cinema 2 6:00 PM Best of Fest Shorts: Film TBA | Cinema 1

FOR MORE INFO AND TICKETS, VISIT HSDFI.ORG HSDFF / DEADLINE DOCUMENTARY ROUNDTABLE

PHOTO COURTESY OF THIRD EYE MOTION PICTURE COMPANY

2026 BRENT RENAUD CAREER ACHIEVEMENT AWARD

JOE BERLINGER Academy Award-nominated and multiple Emmy-winning filmmaker Joe Berlinger has spent more than three decades using nonfiction storytelling to investigate crime, injustice and abuses of power. His landmark films Joe Berlinger include Brother’s Keeper, the Paradise Lost Trilogy, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, and Crude.

Monday, October 12 at 7:30 PM - The Arlington Resort Hotel & Spa, Cinema 1 Moderated by Deadline’s Documentary Editor Matt Carey, the new Documentary Roundtable conversation brings together an internationally diverse group of directors and producers representing top contenders for this year’s Documentary Feature Oscar. Confirmed for the conversation are: Liani Greaves (producer, Once Upon a Time in Harlem), Michał Marczak (director, Closure), Poh Si Teng (director, American Doctor), and Biljana Tutorov (director, To Hold a Mountain). All the films represented on the panel will be screened at HSDFF and feature Q&As with the Roundtable participants.

Berlinger’s work has helped secure the freedom of seven wrongfully convicted people, including three from death row, while advancing causes ranging from criminal-justice reform to environmental and human-rights accountability. A recipient of Peabody, DGA and Sundance awards, he has also brought socially consequential storytelling to global audiences through 19 Netflix productions, including his acclaimed Conversations with a Killer series.

Deadline’s Documentary Editor Matthew Carey joined Deadline fulltime in 2020 to specialize in coverage of the nonfiction film landscape. Matthew has written extensively about documentary film for CNN and CNN.com, Documentary magazine, NBCNews.com and TheWrap. Matthew and filmmaker John Ridley host the weekly “Doc Talk” podcast, which features interviews with filmmakers, storytellers, and industry leaders. Join us for this free event and be inspired by this fascinating conversation about the art, craft and issues behind these films that are at the center of this year’s Oscar buzz.

Joe Berlinger will be in attendance for the Brent Renaud Career Achievement Award presentation and screening of Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills on Sunday, October 11 at 6:00 PM at the Arlington Resort Hotel & Spa.

Event is free and open to all passholders and those with a ticket (pick up at box office).

2026 IMPACT AWARD

YORUBA RICHEN Yoruba Richen is the founder of Promised Land Film, which is devoted to producing documentaries that illuminate issues of race, space and power. Her Yoruba Richen work has been featured on multiple outlets and has been Emmy-nominated. She directed The Rebellious Life of Mrs. Rosa Parks, which won a Peabody Award, a Gracie and was honored by the Television Academy.

TOUCHING HEARTS THROUGH A CULINARY EXPERIENCE

Her recent film American Coup: Wilmington 1898, which had its World Premiere at the 2024 HSDFF, was nominated for a Peabody award. Yoruba was awarded the Trailblazer award by Black Public Media and is the Founding Director of the Documentary Program at the Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at CUNY. FREE JOAN LITTLE Director: Yoruba Richen Film Running Time: 35m Joan Little was the first woman in U.S history to be acquitted for using deadly force to resist sexual assault. Free Joan Little captures the spirit of resistance that made history. Yoruba Richen will be in attendance for the Impact Award presentation and the screening of her new documentary short Free Joan Little, part of the Lasting Legacies shorts program, on Saturday, October 10 at 12:15 PM at the Arlington Resort Hotel & Spa.

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MORE INFO OCTOBER 9-17 FOR AND TICKETS, 2026 VISIT HSDFI.ORG MR. SAM, ARKANSAS, AND THE MAKING OF A GLOBAL BUSINESS EMPIRE Wednesday, October 14 at 12:00 PM - The Arlington Resort Hotel & Spa, Cinema 2

Rising Through the Fray

NATIVE / INDIGENOUS FILM SECTION

For the third year running, the festival brings together an extraordinary lineup of feature-length and short documentaries that celebrate Native and Indigenous stories and storytellers. Marking Indigenous People’s Day on Monday, October 12th, the festival will screen Courtney Montour’s high-spirited documentary Rising Through the Fray, which turns its lens on the thrilling Indigenous Rising roller derby team. Look for these terrific Native/Indigenous stories, screening throughout the festival. FEATURES:

AANIKOOBIJIGAN [ANCESTOR/GREATGRANDPARENT/GREAT-GRANDCHILD]

Director: Adam Khalil, Zack Khalil, USA Tuesday, October 13 at 9:30 AM | Cinema 1

American history. He also will address the current impact of the Walton family on Arkansas and what the future holds for both the Walton family and Arkansas. Event is free and open to all passholders and those with a ticket (pick up at box office)

THE BADDEST SPEECHWRITER OF ALL: SCREENING AND ' TOP DOCS' LIVE PODCAST WITH BEN PROUDFOOT

Thursday, October 15 at 5:00 PM - The Arlington Resort Hotel & Spa, Cinema 1 Two-time Academy Award-winning filmmaker Ben Proudfoot (The Queen of Basketball; The Last Repair Shop) participates in a live podcast conversation with Michael Merrill and Ken Jacobson, hosts of the “Top The Baddest Speechwrite of All Docs: Award-Winning Documentary Filmmakers” podcast, about his inspiring new Netflix documentary short The Baddest Speechwriter of All. The film — directed with basketball icon Stephen Curry — will be shown prior to the conversation. THE BADDEST SPEECHWRITER OF ALL

CEREMONY

Director: Banchi Hanuse’ Canada Friday, October 16 at 10:00 AM | Cinema 1 RISING THROUGH THE FRAY

Director: Courtney Montour, Canada Monday, October 12 at 4:45 PM | Cinema 2 RUNA SIMI

Director: Augusto Zegarra, Peru Wednesday, October 14 at 10:00 AM | Cinema 1 SHORTS:

THE CUSTODIAN

Director: Khaula Malik, USA Friday, October 16 at 2:30 PM | Shorts Program: The Spirit of Competition | Cinema 2 ENDLESS SUNLIGHT

Director: Tyson Houseman, Canada Saturday, October 10 at 12:15 PM Shorts Program: Lasting Legacies | Cinema 2 LISTEN

Director: Malakye Tsosie, USA Monday, October 12 at 7:15 PM Shorts Program: Where We Stand | Cinema 2 STICKBALL: THE LITTLE BROTHER OF WAR

Director: Mark D. Williams, USA Friday, October 16 at 2:30 PM Shorts Program: The Spirit of Competition | Cinema 2

24 OCTOBER 2026

Rex Nelson

Senior Editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, Rex Nelson, a beloved storyteller of Arkansas history, culture and politics, returns for a special conversation titled, "Mr. Sam, Arkansas, and the Making of a Global Business Empire" about famed Arkansan Sam Walton, the co-founder of Walmart. Rex will discuss how Walton went from running a five-and-dime store in Newport, Arkansas, to becoming one of the greatest business leaders in

ARKANSAS TIMES

DIRS Ben Proudfoot and Stephen Curry USA | 29m Personally recruited by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. during the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. Clarence B. Jones reveals the personal cost and surprising truths behind becoming King’s trusted lawyer and speechwriter, and helping shape “I Have a Dream.” Boasting more than 300 episodes over six seasons, Top Docs has featured deep dive conversations with a wide range of filmmakers, including Questlove, Laura Poitras, Ron Howard, Liz Garbus, and Ken Burns. Join us for this special screening and conversation, and go behind the scenes of the podcast that documentary filmmakers are talking about.

HSDFF FILMMAKER FORUM

Now in its fourth year, the HSDFF Filmmaker Forum is a two-day filmmaker/industry conference and convening to be held October 12 – 13 during this year’s festival. The Forum, which has become a yearly must-attend event, provides crucial professional development resources and networking opportunities for Mid-Southern and Southern documentary filmmakers; offers dynamic programming featuring the art, craft and business of documentary storytelling; and focuses a wider lens on the nonfiction ecosystem as a whole. Note: The Forum is for filmmakers and documentary industry representatives. Registration is required. See https://hsdfi.org/forum/ for details. HSDFF Filmmaker Retreat and Summit The inaugural Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival Filmmaker Retreat, a four-day intensive program for filmmakers based in the Mid-South/South, held in partnership with Indie Media Arts South, launches October 10 – 13 at this year’s festival. The goal of the retreat is to provide intensive support and feedback for a cohort of six Mid-Southern/Southern-based documentary projects currently in progress. A core component of the retreat is a daylong facilitated discussion with filmmakers, civic leaders, funders, and other stakeholders called the “Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival Summit: Supporting Nonfiction Storytelling in the Mid-South/South” to be held at the Winthrop Rockefeller Institute on Petit Jean Mountain, Arkansas. SPECIAL ADVERTISING SECTION

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NEWS & POLITICS

SEEING IN THE DARK

AT LAKEVIEW WEST, THERE ARE NO STREETLIGHTS. HOMEOWNERS SHUT OFF THEIR LIGHTS AT DUSK, AND THE MILKY WAY SHINES OVERHEAD. DARK-SKY ADVOCATES THINK CITY PLANNERS HAVE SOME THINGS TO LEARN FROM THEIR APPROACH. BY ELIZABETH L. CLINE PHOTOGRAPHY BY BRIAN CHILSON

28 OCTOBER 2026 28 OCTOBER 2026

ARKANSAS TIMES ARKANSAS TIMES

NO STREETLIGHTS, NO PROBLEM: Tucked northwest of Lake Maumelle off Arkansas Highway 113, Lakeview West is buffered from light pollution by vast timber holdings and the Ouachita National Forest.

n a recent evening at Lakeview West, an upscale subdivision perched above Lake Maumelle with sweeping views of the Ouachitas, I found myself at an impromptu star party. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, homeowner and amateur astronomer Lori Gerritsen pointed out constellations to neighbors and out-of-town guests gathered on her patio, sipping wine and observing the kind of celestial display that’s invisible from my light-polluted yard in North Little Rock. A shooting star streaked across the sky, multiple satellites blipped by. As nightfall descended, the hazy expanse of the Milky Way came into view, an experience I’ve hitherto only experienced in far-flung places (yes, I’m aware the Buffalo River is an International Dark Sky Park, but that, too, is far from home). And yet Lakeview West is just 30 miles west of downtown Little Rock. It is the first known residential development in Arkansas with so-called responsible outdoor lighting regulations written into its governing rules: There are no streetlights, and exterior lights on homes must point toward the ground. The result is an extraordinarily dark neighborhood designed to preserve homeowners’ prime view of the heavens. “You don’t want to block out this night sky and this beautiful view at night if everybody’s lights are on,” Gerritsen later told me. To some, living in a darkly lit neighborhood may sound unsettling, but it was a selling point for the Gerritsens, who traded in their beachfront home in Pensacola, Florida, for the darkened wilds of Arkansas last year. “I love the idea because we’ve always kind of been the people that hang out in the backyard and look at the sky,” Lori Gerritsen said. I asked a neighbor, Adrien, if he felt worried living in an unlit neighborhood — one buried miles into the woods and gated — and he laughed off my question. Bruce McMath, the chair of the Arkansas Natural Sky Association, a nonprofit that advances responsible outdoor lighting, partnered with developer Rick Ferguson to draft Lakeview West’s lighting rules. The thinking is that excess outdoor lighting — known as light pollution — has myriad ill effects, such as disrupting human sleep

cycles and interfering with animal migration and reproduction. McMath was drawn to Lakeview West in part because the neighborhood is in an exceptionally dark corner of the state. Located northwest of Lake Maumelle, just off Arkansas Highway 113, the neighborhood is surrounded by extensive timber holdings and the Ouachita National Forest. The goal of responsible lighting is not to shut off all lights, but to reduce the amount of it and make it more intentional, McMath said. He hopes Lakeview West could inspire people as to what’s possible. “The idea is not to have no artificial lighting,” McMath said. “Like every other human technology, it’s to have responsible use of it.” At the Gerritsens’ gathering, I heard them privately admonish neighbors whose lights were on downhill from their backyard, but as the sun set, those lights shut off one by one, as if on cue. “It’s not like every house is lit up like it’s an airport, and you’re trying to wave an airplane in. It is very calm, very low-lit, but you can still see,” she said. Later I saw a couple walking their dog in the dark, flashlight in hand. When McMath approached Ferguson about making his new development an official dark-sky neighborhood, with responsible lighting rules written into the bill of assurance, the veteran Central Arkansas developer said the idea felt like a natural extension of his own ethos. Ferguson’s other tony Lake Maumelle development, Waterview, was built sans streetlights to protect the night sky. “I didn’t put streetlights because I didn’t want anything messing with the sky. I didn’t call it light pollution because I wasn’t aware of that term, probably, but that’s what I was after,” Ferguson said. Ferguson concedes he’s lost a few prospective buyers due to the neighborhoods’ dimness. “There are people who think that without streetlights, the boogeyman is coming for them,” he said. While Lakeview West’s price point — finished homes start at a half-million dollars — shuts out most people anyway, he’s had no trouble selling 40 lots so far, he said, and has plans to continue developing the thousand-plus-acre property over many decades.

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“THE IDEA IS NOT TO HAVE NO ARTIFICIAL LIGHTING. LIKE EVERY OTHER HUMAN TECHNOLOGY, IT’S TO HAVE RESPONSIBLE USE OF IT.”

—BRUCE MCMATH, CHAIR OF THE ARKANSAS NATURAL SKY ASSOCIATION 30 OCTOBER 2026

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SKY’S THE LIMIT: Residents have hosted star parties at Lakeview West, where guests can see satellites, shooting stars and the Milky Way.

BRINGING DARKER SKIES TO LITTLE ROCK From the Gerritsens’ backyard, there is but one thing ruining the view: Little Rock rises over the horizon to the southeast, ensconced in an orange bubble of light pollution. Little Rock does not have a responsible outdoor lighting ordinance, meaning builders and the city can largely use as much lighting as they want, in whatever color, pointed in any direction. Arkansas Natural Sky Association members and other dark-sky advocates have tried and failed over the years to change these rules. Such an effort last stalled in a planning committee in 2023, McMath said. Cities can’t go pitch-dark like a neighborhood can. Light is needed in public areas and along streets and sidewalks after dark and can provide a feeling of safety. Still, McMath points to the complex research showing that excess outdoor lighting is not the best way to deter crime. McMath notes that, for cities, responsible lighting includes downward-facing lighting, targeted lighting and motion-sensor controls. He uses Flagstaff, Arizona, as a not-too-brightlyshining example. “You can see the Milky Way galaxy from inside the city limits,” he said. A growing number of cities and towns in Arkansas are passing responsible outdoor lighting ordinances, including Hot Springs and Fort Smith. McMath said he hopes the success of Lakeview West could help Little Rock’s city leaders realize the benefits, too. “The fact of the matter is, the responsible lighting is cheaper lighting and better lighting, so there’s just really no reason not to do it,” he said. The Arkansas Natural Sky Association is working with the Little Rock Sustainability Commission and the Public Works Commission on a new draft of the responsible lighting ordinance. McMath’s organization, alongside the Central Arkansas Astronomical Society (CAAS), has hosted two star parties in the neighborhood. The most recent, on Labor Day weekend, invited members of the public to peer through supercharged telescopes and listen to astronomers chat about the stars. Both the lighting rules and the events have been a big hit with residents, Ferguson said. “The neighborhood just went crazy. We loved it.” On the drive back to Little Rock from Lakeview West, I finally saw what McMath means. As I drove into West Little Rock along Chenal, the glut of lighted signs, flood-lightinglit empty parking lots and decorative exterior lighting on businesses closed for the night struck me as wasteful — and garish. I looked up at the sky and saw nothing but haze.

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ROAD TRIP 2026

After five years of publishing our annual Road Trip issue in either the spring or summer months, we decided it was high time we held off until the temperature cools before sending you scampering throughout the state in search of Natural State novelty. Ride along as we tour the cellars in Arkansas Wine Country, bet and bargain-buy our way through Pine Bluff, trek across new hiking trails at Lake Maumelle, and even traverse the southern border to visit Louisiana’s third-largest burg: Shreveport.

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ROAD TRIP 2026

A CIRCUITOUS VISIT TO THE ORIGINAL ARKANSAS WINE COUNTRY. BY MATT MCNAIR PHOTOGRAPHY BY BRANDY MCNAIR

34 34 OCTOBER OCTOBER 2026 2026

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SNEAK PEEK: The first sign of Arkansas Wine Country popped up earlier than expected, just east of Morrilton.

here’s a heckuva road trip to be had by tackling more than one of Arkansas’ designated grape-growing and wine-making clusters (officially known as American Viticultural Areas, or AVAs), but a tight schedule and limited finances dictated that my wife/ travel companion/photographer/driver and I stick to a day trip. Because we’re based in Little Rock, that meant heading to Arkansas’ original wine-making hearth: a stretch of the Arkansas River Valley a little west of Clarksville and centered in and around the Franklin County town of Altus. Beyond hitting up as many wineries as possible once we got to Altus and finishing up the day with a meal at Wienkeller Restaurant, we had no plans as to how we would occupy our time en route, but with only 120 miles or so between the front door and our own personal “Sideways” remake (no adultery in this one, though, or Paul Giamatti, either), we figured the world was our wine cork and we’d just merlot with the flow. The problem with that (aside from “merlot with the flow” being a deeply, deeply stupid thing to even think, much less say or, God forbid, write) is the fact that our route is shot through with good and fun things to do, and also that I am — according to my wife, anyway — notorious for turning short drives into very long ones, mainly owing to my distaste for the interstate highway system and my not-unrelated tendency to toodle around on little ancillary adventures and sightseeing jags on the way to wherever it is I’m going. The compromise here was to hit Interstate 40 right out of the gate, unwind the trigger and blend in with the rest of the scofflaws. My companion (having added “time management consultant” to her job description) assured me that 90 mph was plenty slow enough to see anything really interesting with ample time to peel off the highway, but fast enough that I couldn’t pull my “Family Circus” routine and dotted-line my way into missing Last Call for the only thing I was actually supposed to be doing, which was still quite a ways down the road.

We got our first opportunity to test my wife’s faith in her eyesight, and my reaction time, just east of Morrilton with the appearance of an official Arkansas Wine Country Trail sign. I wasn’t expecting it, having thought from the get-go that we wouldn’t see any wineries till the Altus city limits and not having seen any listing for a Morrilton-area winery when I peeked, however begrudgingly, at the official Wine Trail website that morning. That’s probably on account of the fact that Movie House Winery, toward which the sign pointed, squeezed its last grape several years ago. That really bummed me out, because not only was I excited to see what a Morrilton winery could do (Point Remove Brewing Company is making some awfully good beer just down the road, after all), but also because I like it when analog sources are right and the internet is wrong. No dice on this one, though. So I was feeling kind of low right off the bat because we had no wine and the internet wasn’t wrong and now the dramatic exit from the highway was seeming pretty anticlimactic, but my wife pointed out that, even though the winery being closed was not a good surprise, it was a surprise nonetheless and we’d left the interstate as a result. Aha, that’s right! According to Road Trip Law, any impromptu exploration off the straight and narrow path, successful or not, means the soul-numbing “making time” portion of the drive is over, and the actual, true, honest-to-goodness road trip has begun. We were free to toodle. A LITTLE TIME FOR WASTIN’ WHILE EN ROUTE TO SOME TASTIN’ While I really do have a bit of a problem with planning things, such as road trips, with any degree of detail or farther than, oh, two or three hours in advance, I had managed to hammer out a rough itinerary for our post-speedster, pre-assignment interregnum: history and hoarding. Well, not hoarding per se, but antiquing or junking or whatever you like to call stopping

at roadside thrift shops and flea markets and all the other various and sundry collections of slightly unsettling treasures — cast-off cast iron, haunted portraits, vaguely racist tchotchkes, and on and on — to be found on the backroads of this great land. The “history” is just history. Nothing to goof on, presentation-wise, but if everything is a gag then nothing is, so I’ll take it. There’s a lot of it, too, if you’re into that sort of thing, which I am. The path from Little Rock to Altus, understand, once you get off I-40 and onto U.S. 64, is chockablock with historical sites, especially the bite-size kind that are perfect for little road trips with a time limit. And so that’s what we hit up, starting with the Potts Inn Museum, the pride (along with a small general store with a very cool lineage and a crackerjack settin’ bench out front named for a local luminary) of Pottsville, a small town that has most probably saved a fortune on street signs since 2016, when medical marijuana became legal and therefore uncool, rendering theft of Pottsville’s official signage a crime bereft of cachet and beneath the dignity of local rowdies. (The public works department of Weiner, up in Poinsett County, presumably remains on high alert.) But said rowdies (and also readers) would do well to visit the Potts Inn, one of those rare structures that can pull off the neat trick of being simultaneously grand and unassuming, and all this with its ample green grounds unpaved and uncluttered, save for a few excellent historical markers that do a remarkable job of recounting the equally remarkable story of the property, and the people who built it. My faithful companion — now busy toggling between the demands of principal photography and time (re: me) management — was impressed mainly by the economy of the signs, in that they satisfied my curiosity without being too awful long or numerous for her, as she’s more of a big-picture history buff (i.e., an acolyte of the “take a picture and take off” school of historical appreciation), and I appreciate a little more detail (i.e., I compulARKTIMES.COM

OCTOBER 2026 35

NO WINING ALLOWED: After a stop at the Potts Inn Museum in Pottsville, we made our way to four wineries near Altus: Mount Bethel Winery, Post Winery, Chateau Aux Arc and Wiederkehr Wine Cellar.

sively read every word of every sign and exhibit, whether I’m actually interested in that bit of history or not). Along with promoting marital harmony (thank you, Arkansas Historic Preservation Program!), the signs single-handedly (single-postedly?) made the stop a successful one, considering we showed up to the Potts Inn on a day that it was closed. I should note, however, the Case of the Closed Museum is maybe more of a feature than a bug for this particular road trip itinerary: Even if you happen to be a well-adjusted and responsible person who can make plans like a functioning adult and regularly does so, there is a very good chance you’ll be learning your local history peeping through a locked door and wandering around the (admittedly beautiful) grounds surrounding this or that tucked-away museum. But for all that, the day was already beautiful, and the towns, from tiny to kind of big to actually big — like Atkins and Pottsville, Morrilton and Clarksville — nestled in this stretch of the Arkansas River Valley are also very beautiful. For all their Southerness — and it is very Southern here — the river valley’s 36 OCTOBER 2026

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small towns evoke, to great degree, the New England of popular imagination, with its storybook hamlets and tidy town squares. So far as museums and their ilk go, you are likely to find that these storehouses of history, lovingly tended, will be in a retrofitted railroad car or abandoned depot, or an old church or courthouse or other such lived-in place, and sited directly on the square. Keep your eyes open for historical markers as well, as this stretch of U.S. 64 is a designated section of both the Trail of Tears and Butterfield Overland national trails, and just about every town along the route has at least a few markers, ranging from local remembrances to federal designations. To see them all is a trip unto itself — if you count the local ones, Morrilton has more than a dozen all by itself — but as an excuse for leg-stretching with a side of history, any town square is going to cover both. The only thing on our sort-of itinerary that we missed out on was a proper junk-store adventure, as the few we saw were either closed or, occasionally, ominous. I’ll note that we didn’t put our noses to the (vintage, pedal-cranked) grindstone in any of the towns

we stopped in, and so might have missed a few, but I’d also point out that this is also the site of “Bargains Galore on 64,” a yearly bacchanal of dirty deals held on the second full weekend of August in which folks line the highway with folding tables, all of which are laden with bunches of stuff they no longer need (but you do), and hold one long continuous yard sale up and down the 164 miles of U.S. 64 from Fort Smith to Beebe, an event you absolutely must experience if you’re into that kind of thing. POSTING UP WITH THE SELLERS IN THE CELLARS The stops on the way to Altus are pretty interchangeable (to that, though, Altus’ town square is, like most every town on the route, well worth visiting, and in fact, between a genuinely moving memorial to the area’s long-ago coal miners and three very distinct bars — one for ghosts, one for tourists and one for making tourists into ghosts — is definitely one to put on your itinerary), but once you get to where you’re going, the options are more limited (albeit much more fun and, in the instant case, to the point): Al-

tus is the heart of Arkansas Wine Country, it is very small (pop. 683), and most everybody that lives there presumes anyone who does not live there (that’s us! and probably you!) has shown up for the sole purpose of visiting a winery and have planned accordingly by building only wineries for the provision of entertainment (save those three bars catering to the primary stages of ghosthood), necessities and sundries. That’s OK, though, and between the town’s wineries you really can get just about everything you need. There are several of them, but not so many that you can’t hit them all on a single trip, especially if you have someone to manage your time and drive you around like I do. If you don’t, just find someone who enjoys watching you drink yourself to near-insensibility and driving you around as you hold forth on current events, and you’ll be set. But in the event that very good plan doesn’t come together, you can either take it easy on the tasting flights (ugh), or just opt for samples of the unleaded wares — grape juice, fruit juice, soft cider — on offer at all the wineries, and made from the same stuff and in the same way as the hard stuff (yum!).

Disclosure time: Except for the fact that I do indeed enjoy a glass of wine or three with my supper now and again, I only claim to be an oenophile so I’ve got an excuse to write it out, on account it’s a bonkers-looking word to me and, like that glass of wine or three, is a handy little way to tamp down the ol’ existential dread for a couple of seconds. Beyond that, I can’t speak about wine with any authority and don’t try to. So I’ll just say that all the wines we tried at all four wineries were good — good enough, in fact, that I’m going to add it to my list of things to get riled up over when somebody From Off gets snooty about it. While the Arkansas Wine Trail as a whole has plenty of wineries that have sprung up in the past few years, the new wave is mostly along the sections in Northwest and Central Arkansas; in and around Altus — wine country proper, I’d argue — most of the wineries are old, and even the relative upstarts tend to be run by descendants and offshoots of the families (the Posts and Wiederkehrs) that established the area’s first commercial wineries in the late 1800s and early 1900s. (Wiederkehr’s, established in 1880, is the oldest

continuously operating winery in the state, having received a dispensation, on religious grounds, to manufacture wine throughout Prohibition; both families can trace their winemaking heritage — including for commercial purposes — to a time that predates state licensure of either winery.) That’s who still runs them for the most part, too, and the result is a wine tour that doubles as a history tour, and feels a little bit like you’ve tagged along with a buddy to their big family reunion. We got a good dose of the family-reunion vibe (as well as several very good wines, including an excellent chardonnay) at our first stop, Mount Bethel Winery, which sits on the original Post family farm and is still operated by Post family descendants. That includes the tasting room (itself the original Post family wine cellar), where we found a delightful woman who is the spitting image of my wife’s aunt and who was happy to give us an impromptu lesson in both local history and genealogy, laying out all the family trees (or grapevines, I suppose) of the important wine country families. I could’ve stayed there all day. ARKTIMES.COM

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Next on tap was Post Winery, just a little ways up the road from Mount Bethel. While the winery itself is one of the two oldest in Arkansas’ wine country, Post’s tasting room and wine-making facility is one of the newest; where Mount Bethel’s tasting room is situated on the original (still working) Post farm and dates to the 19th century, Post ushers the visitor into the 21st, a tipsy minimalist vibe to set it apart from Mount Bethel’s equally tipsy cottagecore setup down the road. The tasting room also boasts a great big window that looks onto the production floor, with places to sit and watch the action when it’s bottling time or otherwise bustling along. Our bartender, while not a member of the Post family, had a sommelier’s command of a wine’s particulars delivered so that a layman (me) could grasp it; relaying is a different matter altogether, my voice recorder having given up the ghost five minutes into this little adventure, though I can report that the merlot was delightfully dry, and a far cry from the tired charge of “too sweet” that I often hear about Arkansas wine. Chateau Aux Arc is the new kid on the block as far as the wineries in wine country go, being only 25 years old or so. The most modern and modern-looking of the wineries by a good deal (the Post facility was new, but newness of the building is offset by the history of the place), Chateau Aux Arc offers a line of excellent wines that include a few zigs and zags to set it apart from the more traditional lineups of the old guard (such as the Quartz Rose, which has a more balanced front end and a much sharper finish than is standard, which I found to be excellent at the time, and in my shopping bag later), and a gift shop given over to a mesmerizing collection of plants. Our last winery of the day was Wiederkehr Wine Cellar, which is located in Wiederkehr Village and encompasses a good chunk of the mountain that overlooks Altus from the north and is the smallest incorporated town by population in Arkansas. Wiederkehr Wine Cellar, which is the reason there is a Wiederkehr Village in the first place (in the 1970s, the city of Altus wanted to annex the mountain, including the Wiederkehr operation, and in response the little community — every resident of which, or nearly so, was a member of the family or employee of the winery or both — successfully petitioned for incorporation), is a complex of vineyards, warehouses, hangars and houses where members of the Wiederkehr family have been living and working and making wine since the 1880s. After admiring the grounds for a few minutes, we sampled a series of what I found to be the driest and most robust wines of the day (and my taste in wines, such as it is, runs to the dry and robust) that included a standout shiraz and phenomenal cynthiana. Most im-

portant to my faithful (and very hungry) companion, along with the tasting room — in Wiederkehr’s case, a tasting building, cavernous and wood-paneled, the massive hand-carved bar holding court over an array of wines and pickles and gifts and steins, ancient wine barrels and presses standing sentinel on the floor and in the darkened corners — Wiederkehr Village also boasts a restaurant (“Weinkeller”), and while it’s not the only place to eat in Arkansas Wine Country, it’s the place, and we’d never been. (We didn’t make reservations, either, which worked out OK on a random weeknight, but it was busy nonetheless and we were told by a local that we had gotten lucky and that it was a good idea to make reservations regardless of the day.) Walking into the restaurant, which occupies the original Wiederkehr family wine cellar, is a disorienting experience, albeit a pleasant one. The weight of history is as palpable as the weight of the old homeplace, which sits directly above, the air thick with cooksmoke and the savory smell of Old World food. The whole menu is very traditional, including the appetizers (we started with a pot of fondue) and the sides (the German potatoes are on point), and features entrees such as Back Hendel Vienna and hand-cut steaks. It’s one of those rare places that’s not just old, but seemingly unchanged, a little world unto itself that, rather than being unstuck in time, has found time unstuck from it. BACK TO THE FUTURE And it’s that kind of talk — time-traveling restaurants and what have you — that is a sure sign it was time to get this show back on, and ultimately off of, the road. We weren’t driving an RV, but if we were, then we might have eased back up to the top of the mountain where, right across from Chateau Aux Arc, there’s a shiny new RV park with big hookups and plenty of shade, and a great view of the River Valley sunset. And if I were more persuasive, we could have headed over to Ozark, just five miles to the west, where there are rooms at the Oxford Inn, or better yet, hook north up the Pig Trail (Arkansas Highway 23) and slept to the sound of the Mulberry River at Around the Bend Cabins (the better to score a sandwich at Turner Bend Store the next day for the ride home). Alas, I’m not that persuasive, and so count among my many blessings an affable chauffeur. If I were a napping man (I am, most emphatically, not a napping man), I would have drifted to sleep to a tinkly lullaby, as we were unable to leave a single winery without picking up a unique vintage or two (including a few bottles of unleaded juice, should a fit of temperance overtake us), but I stayed awake instead and advocated for a return trip. That argument was getting some traction, and I believe I’ll be able to make it stick.

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Pool, playground, and game room

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HWY 75 | DURANT, OK choctawcasinos.com/durant ARKTIMES.COM

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ROAD TRIP 2026 HISTORY LAID BEAR: The Louisiana State Exhibit Museum covers nearly everything, from agriculture and wildlife to military history and technological innovations.

A QUICK TRIP TO NORTHWESTERN LOUISIANA OFFERS UP GOOD EATS AND SEXY MUSEUMS BY DAY, AND SMOKY, RUINOUS VICE BY NIGHT. BY MATT CAMPBELL PHOTOGRAPHY BY JESS MILLER 40 OCTOBER 2026

ARKANSAS TIMES

ntil recently, nearly everything I knew about the Shreveport-Bossier City area I’d learned from songs. To wit: It’s on the Red River in northwestern Louisiana, it has casinos and Bowling for Soup’s van broke down near there in 1999. Beyond that, the only information I had about the place was from a foodie friend, who’d mentioned Shreveport had a very good French-style brasserie. But that felt like a good-enough reason to go there for the Arkansas Times’ annual Road Trip issue and see what else we could dig up in Louisiana’s third-largest burg. So it was that after a three-hour drive from Little Rock on an impossibly hot Thursday in August, I found myself roasting on the banks of the Red River just before 11 a.m. It was too early to check in to the Margaritaville Hotel & Casino, but thanks to a couple of threads on the Shreveport and Bossier City subreddits, we had a loose itinerary to fill the time: lunch, the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum, the R.W. Norton Art Gallery, back to the casino/hotel to check in, dinner at the aforementioned brasserie and then as much casino action as we could stomach. The Margaritaville Hotel actually sits on the Bossier (pronounced BO·zhr) City side of the Red River, directly across from downtown Shreveport. For those who have never visited this shining jewel of the Ark-La-Tex, two cities on either side of a navigable river might conjure images of a Little Rock-North Little Rock situation, with downtown skylines dotting either side. Disabuse yourself of that notion; while a person could squint and confuse Shreveport with Little Rock, the Bossier City side looks like someone ransacked Malvern. Aside from the two casinos and a Bass Pro right up against the river, Bossier City has little to offer a tourist. Thankfully, Bossier City’s lack of amenities didn’t really matter. The first stop on our itinerary — lunch at The Blind Tiger — was just across the river, at the foot of the Long-Allen Bridge, a two-minute drive from the Margaritaville. GRAB A TIGER BY THE (CRAWFISH) TAIL From the outside, The Blind Tiger doesn’t look like much. The old two-story brick building is painted a flat gray-blue, and sunbleached cream-and-green awnings shade every window on both floors. At a distance, the only hint that anything is inside are a cou-

blinding noontime sun, full as a couple of dog ticks, and headed for the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum.

MUDBUGS: The Blind Tiger in Shreveport serves up some of the best fried crawfish tails anywhere.

ple of brightly colored signs featuring a poorly drawn tiger playing a piano. Inside is a different story. Potted Boston ferns and leaded-glass light fixtures hang from an antique tin ceiling. A darkly stained wooden bar takes up the north side of the room, which is decorated throughout with neon beer signs and kitschy, Louisiana- and tiger-themed tchotchkes. ’80s music fills the background, while TVs silently play various sports. It simultaneously feels like a strange mishmash of a Cajun restaurant, sports bar, dive bar and college bar. I was instantly smitten. On our server’s recommendation, we started lunch by sharing an order of fried crawfish tails. I’m not disappointed to say they might have been the best I’ve ever had anywhere: perfectly seasoned, plump and served piping hot with lemon wedges and remoulade. My entree was fried shrimp and fries, and it was also excellent. The shrimp were lightly breaded and expertly deep-fried, not the least bit rubbery or greasy. The thick-cut Cajun fries that came with it were top-notch as well. My fiancée, Jess, opted for the crab cakes and fries. The cakes were roughly as big around as a hockey puck, but half as thick and not dense at all. The crab inside was flaky and fresh, and the breading stayed put even after you cut into the cakes, which is the mark of a truly well-made cake. Just A-plus food all around. The Blind Tiger also offers a wide selection of beers and liquor, but with the full day of sightseeing ahead of us, we skipped any lunchtime booze. We staggered out into the

HISTORY, SORT OF The Louisiana State Exhibit Museum gives strong “we have the Smithsonian at home” vibes. That’s not a knock so much as an observation about the breadth of the human experience they try to convey in a single, very cool Art Deco-style building. It contains everything from agricultural history to dinosaurs, from the oil-and-gas industry to Native American artifacts, from natural history to military paraphernalia. That’s also not to say that they don’t do it well. Some of the exhibits are legitimately great. The various dioramas about Louisiana’s development and growth are exceptionally well done, using detailed miniatures and forced perspective to create depth and interest that seem larger than the actual pieces. The Caddo Indian part of the Native American artifacts, which included a thousand-year-old dugout canoe, and the oil-andgas section’s core samples from drilling thousands of feet into the earth were fascinating. One thing did stand out, however, due to its absence: slavery. The various dioramas depicting the agricultural history of Louisiana, most of which were completed in the late 1930s or early 1940s, seemed carefully designed to focus only on the then-modern rice and cotton farming of the time. In the rare instance that one of the diorama’s informational plaques mentioned pre-Civil War agriculture, slavery was still not referenced. Similarly, the exhibits that were specifically about the Civil War also did not mention slavery in any meaningful way. That huge, glaring omission notwithstanding, the museum was a delight overall. I even learned something! According to the exhibit on the Battle of New Orleans, the Jan. 8, 1815, victory over the British in the War of 1812 was such a point of American pride that, until the Civil War, America celebrated Jan. 8 “with as much national significance and patriotism as the 4th of July.” THE ART YEARNS Our next stop was more nerd stuff: the R.W. Norton Art Gallery and Botanical Gardens. Just like the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum, admission to the Norton is free. Because it was roughly 213 degrees outside, we eschewed the botany and sought out the air-conditioned relief of the art gallery. It did not disappoint. ARKTIMES.COM

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SCENES FROM A FORGOTTEN TOWN: Clockwise from top left, the R. W. Norton Art Gallery; steak frites at The Fat Calf; the three vices of Bossier City casinos — slots, cigarettes and booze; Rhino Coffee in downtown Shreveport; the Margaritaville Hotel & Casino; a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit at Shreveport Biscuit Co.; and an agricultural diorama from the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum.

The collection is expansive. Renaissance artists, Dutch Masters and pieces from ancient Egypt and Persia share space with gold-plated pistols with ornately carved ivory handles, mid-century glass objets d’arts and WWII-era recruitment posters. An impressive collection of works from the American West, primarily by Frederic Remington and Charles M. Russell, sits alongside ancient Greek pottery and 400-year-old French tapestries. If there is a common thread among all the works, it seems to be the Norton asking: Can an art collection be horny? I don’t mean “can art be sexual?” Of course it can, and there are boobs and butts throughout the collection just as you’d expect. I also don’t mean to imply that there’s anything intentionally, overtly horned up about the gallery or how the art is displayed. What I mean is — for reasons that would likely take someone more familiar with art than I am to explain — the entire collection as curated conveys a strange sense of yearning, feminine sexuality and just overall horniness. Where many art museums are cold and foreboding, offering sterile collections that lack a cohesive sense of the curator’s vision, the Norton felt more like walking into the ornate house of a wealthy art lover who has a very keen sense of what moves her, and this made it one of the stranger (in a good way) and more enjoyable art museum experiences I’ve had. KEY WEST, IT AIN’T Obligatory learning and cultural experiences out of the way, it was time to get down to some gluttony and gambling. But first, we needed to check in at the Margaritaville. It was during check-in that we would discover three interesting aspects about the casino/hotel. The first was that, unlike the casino/hotels on the Shreveport side of the river, the ones on the Bossier City side allowed smoking indoors. And given that the casino (a) was only separated from the rest of the first floor by a 3-foot-high glass partition and (b) took up about 75% of the first-floor footprint, that meant the entire first floor smelled of cigarette smoke in a way reminiscent of America in 1992. Secondly, we learned that I should never make assumptions when booking a hotel room. The casino sits at a jaunty angle near a hard bend in the Red River, such that the south- and west-facing rooms of the hotel face downtown Shreveport, while the north-facing rooms look upriver. I booked a “city view” room, assuming that would be one of the rooms that faced downtown Shreveport. In42 OCTOBER 2026

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stead, it was an east-facing room that looked out over the vista that is Bossier City. Because who doesn’t love throwing open the curtains and looking out on an expanse of two-story industrial sadness? The third interesting piece of information was that, while the place may be called Margaritaville, that’s about the full extent of any association with Jimmy Buffett. His name and likeness were nowhere to be found. None of the restaurants were Buffett-themed (at least from the outside; maybe there was a Cheeseburger in Paradise on one of the menus), and the whole thing felt more like someone turned a Rainforest Cafe into a casino. They didn’t even take advantage of the opportunity for some Parrothead-friendly puns like calling the fitness center “Gymmy BUFFett,” which felt like a wasted opportunity. All that said, for about $120/night, you could certainly do worse. Our Bossier Cityview room was clean and bright and spacious, the bed was comfortable and the cigarette odor that permeated the entire first floor was completely absent. We cranked the AC as low as it would go and got ready for dinner. CHEWING THE FAT The Fat Calf Brasserie describes its offerings as French-inspired Southern cuisine made with seasonal local ingredients. Located in a converted old house in the Highland neighborhood of Shreveport near Centenary College, the seating is limited, so reservations are generally a must. Inside, the old house has largely been gutted, with walls removed to allow for a few more tables. A large bar takes up the rear of the dining room, with the kitchen behind it. The floors are wood, any finish on them long ago scuffed away, and the walls are a light blue stucco. Simple chandeliers with warm yellow bulbs dot the ceiling and provide the only light in the dim dining room. They were just finishing cleaning our table when we arrived a few minutes before 7 p.m. We started with drinks and an appetizer. Jess’ old fashioned was good, but my Sazerac — a cocktail I only bother to order when in Louisiana, because no one seems to make it right elsewhere — was pretty terrible. The Peychaud’s bitters were nonexistent and it was inexplicably served with a large ice cube, rather than stirred with ice and served neat. Thankfully, that was the only negative part of the entire meal. (A second round of drinks, both old fashioneds, was presented without error.) Our appetizer was the burrata tartine, and

it was excellent. The cream-filled mozzarella ball was topped with smoked cherry tomato conserva and garlic persillade, all served atop a large slice of toasted sourdough, alongside an arugula salad dressed with a honey balsamic vinaigrette. Perfect. No notes. The entrees were equally top-notch. I opted for the braised beef short rib, which was served with sauteed asparagus spears and cheddar gnocchi. The beef featured a red wine reduction and was fork tender, moist and delicious. Jess leaned hard into the brasserie experience and ordered the steak frites, which consisted of an eight-ounce filet and thincut fries. The medium-rare filet was seasoned and cooked perfectly, and was one of the best filets either of us had tried in a long time. For dessert, we ordered espresso and split a coffee creme brûlee. The dessert was made with local Rhino coffee and topped with a Madeleine cookie and a light dusting of powdered sugar. The bitterness of the coffee cut the sweetness of the dessert well, and the cookie added a nice bit of texture. We ended the meal stuffed and satisfied. The tab was definitely not cheap — with tip, it was $285 — but we agreed it was worth it for a special occasion-type of meal. The dining room, packed with groups seemingly celebrating something or other, suggested others felt the same way. COWBOY KILLERS AND ONE-ARMED BANDITS Despite a father and grandfather who, at various times during my childhood, made their livings as professional gamblers, I am not much of a wagerer myself. I’ve found that I hate losing money so much more than I enjoy winning it, so the whole endeavor just doesn’t appeal to me. I do, however, enjoy the bright lights and noises and insanity of a casino generally, and I am always game to take part in a spectacle. So I tamped down the part of my soul that would rather die than lose money and we hit the casino floor to fritter away some money while people-watching. It was at this point that I realized that the ability to smoke while in the casino attracts a very specific kind of customer to the Margaritaville gaming floor. Specifically, boomers and Gen Xers who still remember a time when you could smoke everywhere and are not shy about telling you that’s when America was truly free. There were a lot of Harley-Davidson T-shirts and smoldering Virginia Slims; that’s my point. Watching the whole thing from the inside felt like how a crow must feel when it lands in a zoo. Like it was all recognizable, but also somehow surreal. The haze of cigarette smoke combined with the cacophony of bells and whistles and people hollering about their luck — all backlit by the glow of hundreds of oversized slot machines — felt timeless, but

not necessarily in a good way. Like if Norman Rockwell painted cultural decay. We played various slot machines until we were both down $100. Jess’ money lasted longer than mine, as she hit a small jackpot early and was briefly up about $50. By the end, though, the casino had even won that back. I immediately thought of one of my dad’s favorite aphorisms: They don’t build casinos that big by paying winners. FRIDAY MORNING COMIN’ DOWN For a couple of people who rarely drink, two drinks at dinner and a couple beers at the casino the night before meant that neither of us was feeling 100% when the sun came blasting into our east-facing window Friday morning. Thankfully, the plan was simple: Breakfast was mandatory; everything else was optional. Breakfast was Shreveport Biscuit Company, an adorable little four-table hole-in-thewall a little further south than the Fat Calf. We both ordered one of their giant housemade buttermilk biscuits with soft scrambled egg and bacon. Mine had American cheese, while Jess opted for cheddar. I don’t think I could have wished for a better breakfast in my slightly hungover state. It was as big as a toddler’s head, and I housed the thing in short order, washing it down with multiple glasses of water and coffee. I was going to survive. We made a quick stop at a cute little local art shop called Agora Borealis — everything in there was made by artists from the Shreveport area, which included an unsettling amount of pop culture characters painted into weird scenes — before hitting Rhino Coffee for another jolt of caffeine before getting on the road back to Little Rock. Overall, Shreveport was … interesting. As a native Midwesterner, I have a soft spot for down-on-their-luck cities bearing witness to their own inexorable decline, and Shreveport definitely fits that bill. The casinos, in some ways a sign of that decline, are now a load-bearing part of the economy and the nightlife in general, and one gets the impression that few people go to the area for reasons other than gambling. At the same time, places like Fat Calf Brasserie and The Blind Tiger and the museums allow a glimpse of a city that could be, if only a whole lot of things were just a bit different. Those are the places that made the trip worthwhile and, were someone to ask me what Shreveport has to offer, those would be my reasons. Watching a septuagenarian in a crop top chain-smoke menthols and two-fist Coors Lights while simultaneously pumping $20s into the video poker machine and yelling into her phone about who was responsible for her cat while she was out of town is just a bonus. ARKTIMES.COM

OCTOBER 2026 43

ROAD TRIP 2026

PINE BLUFF — WHERE YOU CAN PLAY, PUFF AND GET STUFF. STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY MANDY KEENER

DIRTY GOODS: Out of the group chat and into the parking lot at Dillard’s Clearance Center in Pine Bluff, where we loaded up on good deals and steals. 44 OCTOBER 2026

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JADA ELLIS

ORANGE YOU GLAD YOU CAME: Mammoth Orange in Redfield is worth both the drive and the calories.

f losing $60 at the casino, spending $124 at “Dirty Dillard’s” and dropping another $60 at the dispensary qualifies as a bust, then yes, technically, our wallets had a rough day. But Pine Bluff? Pine Bluff delivered. There was a giant retro orange, good ice, deeply discounted clothing, casino lights, sounds and smells, an unexpected lesson in terpenes and one person smugly returning home with enough winnings to cover lunch and shopping. Let’s break it down. Like most girls’ trips, this one began in a group text. Me: I want to go to Dirty Dillard’s, and we can eat at that place that’s in the weird orange building — Mammoth Orange. Not the hairy prehistoric one. The burger one. Several message dings later, we chose a date and formed a plan. Four women. One car. Twenty bucks for gas. A loosely planned itinerary and absolutely no shared understanding of what constituted an appropriate shopping or casino budget. MORE THAN BURGERS Our first stop wasn’t technically in Pine Bluff at all. Mammoth Orange sits along Arkansas Highway 365 in Redfield, where it has been serving burgers, ice cream and other diner essentials since 1966. A little research revealed that the delightfully odd building is an example of “midcentury roadside novelty architecture.” Appar-

ently, the late Ernestine Bradshaw opened the place, inspired by a California restaurant chain, and operated it until her death in 2007. The shape of the diner isn’t the only thing we found odd. The parking lot seems to run largely on instinct, or on a set of rules we weren’t privy to. Operating with neither, we circled the building and eventually pulled into a “spot” someone else was leaving. On this day’s visit, it was much too hot to inquire about sitting on one of the bolted-down metal stools outside the building and ordering through the window. Instead, we entered the restaurant with all the subtlety of four women who had already spent the drive from Little Rock making jokes and talking loudly about the deals we were going to find and the luck that would befall us. Learn a lesson from us if you’d rather not have a room of dining patrons stare at you like an orange hunter in a snowy field: You do not have to stand just inside the door and debate whether you order at the counter or take a seat. You take a seat, and someone will be with you shortly. Eventually, we chose a booth under a painting of the building itself by Little Rock artist John Kushmaul, along with several handwritten, framed recipes and a giant fork and spoon. A kind young woman took our drink orders and returned with big cups of tea and soda filled with that good ice. You know. The menu offers much to discuss. Want to

add a single chicken tender to your meal? Not a problem at Mammoth Orange; you can have one for $1.99. Not that hungry, or the building has you feeling nostalgic? You can order a PB&J for $2.49. I ordered a cheeseburger and onion rings, a decision that would stay with me for the rest of the day in the form of aggressive heartburn. Around the table, we assembled a respectable survey of fryer fare: tater tots, fried okra, corn nuggets. A patty melt and two more burgers were ordered for good measure. Final verdict? These people know their way around hot grease. Fortified by fried food, we paid the bill at the counter and loaded back into the car. Pulling back onto the road, one motorist offered a one-finger review of my stop-sign technique. For the record, sir, I stopped completely. Next up was the trip’s original inspiration: “Dirty Dillard’s.” It’s worth noting that this is an affectionate nickname, not a health department finding. THE LAST OF THE MALL Pulling into the parking lot of The Pines, an abandoned shopping mall, feels a little like stumbling onto the set of “The Last of Us.” It’s a visual of expansive, overgrown, weedy pavement, empty storefronts and the eerie quiet of a place that was once a major shopping destination filled with cars and people. In a corner space, attached to the otherwise empty mall, Dillard’s has somehow carried ARKTIMES.COM

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JADA ELLIS

WHEEL OF NO FORTUNE: From left, the fastest way to lose three hot twenties at Saracen Casino Resort is by way of the slot machines; one of us actually walked away with some cash; our last stop at High Bank Cannabis Co. was worth it — Island Time, here we come.

on. Today, the store is a Dillard’s Clearance Center — the only one in Arkansas — luring and welcoming shoppers with the promise of deep markdowns. This is not a place where you walk in with a curated list and expect to find everything in your size and color. Instead, it feels a little like retail roulette. You dig, you circle. As you walk the vast store, you ruminate on fabrics, sleeve styles, pant lengths. You reconsider styles you rejected years ago. You begin saying things like, “It’s only $11,” as though that automatically means the item belongs in your home. Then you look at the snaking dressing room line and face a major choice: become ruthlessly selective or very laissez-faire about fit. This means either half the clothes you spent considerable time accumulating go back, or you decide you’re really good at eyeballing your size. There are no returns at Dirty Dillard’s. Me? I opted to go conservative. My final damage was $124. The haul? Black vest, toile button-up shirt, comfy shorts and a pair of socks. NOT MUCH OF A GAMBLER From Dillard’s, we headed to Saracen Casino Resort, where each of us approached gambling with different combinations of technique and confidence. Our results vouch 46 OCTOBER 2026

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for none of our approaches. Seeking out the “Wheel of Fortune” game or betting the maximum proved to be equally ineffective strategies. The casino was much less smoky than we expected, and we were delighted to be graced with what has to be the joint’s undisputed style icon — a sharply dressed older gentleman in a tailored red suit, cruising through the casino on his Scootaround while smoking a giant cigar. We could only wish to be that cool. The day’s lone winner searched out a machine similar to one she had played in New Orleans with luck — it was one featuring a particularly obnoxious, laughing Buddha. Maybe habit and superstition do pay off? With most of us a little lighter in the pocket, we decided enough was enough and that it was time to make our last stop before heading back to the Rock. HIGHER EDUCATION Here’s the thing: Every time I step into a dispensary, a slightly giddy smile creeps across my face. In my mind, I am walking into an adult version of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory where all the chocolate is cannabis, Oompa Loompas are budtenders, and I’m Veruca Salt wanting it ALL. We chose High Bank Cannabis Co. in Pine Bluff for one reason: Its font was cooler than

the other dispensaries in town. Sometimes decision-making really is that simple. Because it was our first visit, we received sweet welcome packages containing a cannabis journal, a T-shirt and information about terpenes. Educational and free — now we were finally winning. Next came the fun part: checking out all the options. A bit overwhelming, but thankfully the budtenders know their stuff. High on my priority list was finding gummies similar to the ones I purchased in California. Lo and behold, they had more options than I knew what to do with. After receiving expert recommendations from the Oompa Loompa, I walked out with four different kinds: The Source Island Time; The Source Kiwi Lime Pie; Bold Lemon; and Bold Pineapple Downside Upcake. Then came the best news of the day: New customers get a discount! “I’ll take one more bag of those Island Times, please.” Five bags and 60 bucks later, my evening plans were officially set: gummies, my stories and a curated variety of snacks with a side of Tums. Forget the casino. This is what hitting the jackpot looks like. Pine Bluff wasn’t a bust. It was a bargain-priced, heartburn-inducing, terpene-infused success. What more could four women and one car ask for on a Saturday?

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ROAD TRIP 2026

A RUGGED NEW ROUTE THAT HUGS LAKE MAUMELLE IS PRIMED FOR EXPERIENCED HIKERS AND MOUNTAIN BIKERS WHO WANT TO GET AWAY FROM IT ALL, BUT STILL STAY CLOSE TO HOME. STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY ELIZABETH L. CLINE

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LOOKIN' OUT: One of writer Elizabeth L. Cline’s fellow adventurers scans Lake Maumelle for birds at the hike’s 5-mile midpoint. Minutes later, an osprey soared overhead.

or Central Arkansas residents, getting out into the remote wilderness has, until recently, meant packing up the car and hoofing it up to the Ozarks or trekking deep into the Ouachita Mountains. Not anymore. Say hello to 13.5 miles of new trails just west of the city that track through pristine oak and pine forests and wind along the undeveloped shores of Lake Maumelle. These pathways, which officially open Oct. 19, stitch together Blue Mountain, Rattlesnake Ridge and Pinnacle Mountain, and are surprisingly pristine and secluded — and just minutes from the city. The Nature Conservancy worked with Central Arkansas Water, the Arkansas Natural Heritage Commission, Arkansas State Parks, the Office of Outdoor Recreation and the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission on the new trail system, which took under a year to complete and was funded through a federal grant with a match from the water utility and the state of Arkansas. Bryan Rupar, Central Arkansas Water’s watershed protection manager, said the trails are ideal for anyone looking for a wilder, more rugged outdoor adventure. It’s the first time a trail has cut this deep into the water utility’s land around the south side of the lake, giving hikers a little-traveled and up-close view of our drinking water. “Water is so vital to public health, to our economic growth and stability, and just our everyday life. It’s hard to understate the value of that resource,” he said. On a very hot mid-September day, we became some of the first laypeople to hike the entire South Lake Trail, a smooth, gently rolling but challenging 9.8-mile stretch that runs from WestRock Landing Marina along Lake Maumelle over to the Pinnacle Mountain Visitor Center. Three spurs connect the lake path back to Rattlesnake Ridge and Blue Mountain natural areas, making for a customizable adventure. You’ll need to do some advanced planning.

Bathrooms are available at the marina and visitor center, but along the way, there are no bathrooms, campsites or water refill stations — and few off-ramps. What this trek lacks in creature comforts, however, it makes up for in unspoiled nature and solitude just minutes from the city. 9 A.M. — I meet two friends, Rebecca and Jenny, at the Pinnacle Mountain Visitor Center, 30 minutes from downtown Little Rock. We leave one car at the visitor center and drove 12 minutes over to WestRock Landing Marina on Lake Maumelle, where we park the second car. One quick tip: If you’re shuttling, make sure to bring the keys on the hike — otherwise, you may find yourself hitchhiking back to your starting point. The marina parking lot is undergoing construction, and the water utility is also building a new office. Don’t let the construction throw you off — there are still places to park, and you’re in the right spot. 9:15 A.M. — After stocking up on more water at the marina store, which has a small selection of drinks and snacks, we hit the trail. The trailhead is near the highway, just past the entrance gate on the right. The hike starts mostly flat with pretty marina views and quickly gives way to a beautiful shaded pine and oak forest at a slightly higher elevation that should have stunning fall foliage. About a mile in, the sounds of the highway fade into near-total serenity. 9:50 A.M. — At the 1.3-mile mark, we reach the offshoot for the Pygmy Trail, the new connector that runs to Blue Mountain Natural Area. This intersection is a little confusing, so we double-check the trail map on our phones. We track our progress using the MTB Project mountain biking trail app — and the trails should appear on AllTrails soon as well. By the time readers hit the trail, there should be signage. ARKTIMES.COM

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THE LONG WAY AROUND: Clockwise from top, South Lake Trail meanders gently through pine and oak forests and rocky outcrops; the map's red line marks the new 9.8mile South Lake Trail, which can be customized using spurs linking back to Rattlesnake Ridge and Blue Mountain natural areas; native plants and wildflowers, including camphorweed, thrive thanks to controlled burns that keep the forest healthy and the understory clear.

We encounter more mountain bikers on this section. South Lake Trail has good sightlines, however, and isn’t particularly steep, so you should have no trouble spotting bikes and hopping out of the way. Around the 2-mile mark, there’s another new spur that connects to Rattlesnake Ridge Natural Area. 11:17 A.M. — About halfway into the hike, the trail drops back down and hugs the shoreline of Lake Maumelle — we find ourselves staring into a wide expanse of water surrounded by deep green forest, with only a few homes visible on the opposite crest. We’re staring at the reservoir that supplies much of the region’s drinking water — and has strict no-body-contact rules, so no swimming, jet skis or even dipping a hand in the water, to help keep it clean. The lake is way down due to drought, which is a tad alarming. Rupar said that while our drinking water levels aren’t in danger, low levels mean little boat activity, which makes for an exceptionally peaceful hike. In the winter, Lake Maumelle is a haven for migrating waterfowl, including bufflehead ducks, loons and mergansers. Just as we’re starting to feel sorry for ourselves for spotting so few birds, an osprey soars overhead. NOON — Back on the trail, we wind around the lake before heading back into the woods. This section has exposed sections, and wearing sunscreen is advised. We see plenty of critters, including a baby eastern hognosed snake, large grasshoppers and copious daddy longlegs walking along the path. My friend Jenny, a master naturalist, points out that there are remarkably few invasive plant species, like nandina and privet, and she notices many native plants, like American beautyberry, beakgrass and ferns. I spot native wildflowers, including camphorweed. 1:38 P.M. — About 7 miles into the hike, we cross the final new spur, the Drip Torch Trail, which runs to Rattlesnake Ridge. The trail’s name, Rupar said, references the tool forest managers use for prescribed burns, which 50 OCTOBER 2026

ARKANSAS TIMES

helps the woods we’re adventuring through to resist wildfires, pests and diseases. “A drip torch is our main ignition tool,” Rupar said. “We’ve got to have fire on that landscape to keep that habitat going and our trees as healthy as possible.” Throughout the hike, we notice char on the bottom portion of trees and a thinned-out understory, which I might add is convenient for finding a spot to go in the woods without sitting in poison ivy (just remember to pack out toilet paper and other garbage). The final section features rolling hills with rocky outcrops. The path is built to the natural contours of the hills, which Rupar said helps manage erosion and runoff, and means we don’t tax our very-tired legs. 2:18 P.M. — Highway noise becomes audible again, and, at last, we emerge from the woods at the intersection of Arkansas Highway 300 and Pence Drive. Here, you’ll need to cross over the highway to get back to Pinnacle Center Visitor Center. Cars fly down this road, so be very careful crossing. Once across, the trail continues just up a gravel road to the right. From there, it’s just a 2-minute walk through the woods to the visitor center: an air-conditioned oasis with bathrooms, water fountains and a well-appointed gift shop with snacks and drinks. 2:30 P.M. — We conquer the trail in about 5 hours walking at a medium 2-mile-an-hour pace. We are drenched in sweat, running on fumes and have consumed every drop of water we packed — our readers, thankfully, will get to set out on this gorgeous hike in more comfortable weather. Jenny refills her water bottle, I buy myself a cup of Loblolly ice cream from the gift shop, and Rebecca snags an Arkansas State Parks hat. After a quick drive back to the marina to get the second car, we’re done for the day and have the rest of the afternoon to enjoy. The best part of outdoor adventuring close to home is you can ice your tired muscles and sleep in your soft bed, or if you have a deep well of energy like my friends, you can go home, shower and hit the town afterward.

THE 10-MILE HIKE SURVIVAL GUIDE Tackling a 10-mile hike deep in the woods takes some advanced planning. Make sure to wear good hiking boots or comfortable sneakers and pack as light as you can. Wear sunscreen on exposed skin and think through the comfort and coolness of each article of clothing, down to your underwear and socks — even minor irritations can chafe after several hours. My friends and I each brought our own stash of toilet paper, calorie-dense snacks and a light lunch — and lots of water. It was sweltering on our hike, well over 90 degrees and humid, so we were drinking constantly. Surprisingly, there weren’t many bugs, so bug spray wasn’t needed. ELIZABETH’S PACKING LIST: Eddie Bauer mini-backpack Cell phone for photos, trail maps and emergencies Sunglasses Ball cap Car keys 3 liters of water with electrolytes 2 Clif Bar Minis 1 peanut butter and jelly on a tortilla 1 snack-size bag of Cheez-Its 1 snack-size bag of Ritz Bits RESULTS: I had plenty of food and just enough water. Next time, I would switch one salty snack for a piece of fruit. I would switch my Eddie Bauer backpack for an option with a smooth back, as the mesh fabric started to irritate my skin after several miles. I would also leave my sunglasses and hat at home, as most of the trail was covered and it added extra weight. HOURS AND ADMISSION Free. South Lake Trail is open year-round, and access isn’t restricted to certain hours of the day. Be mindful of “trail closed” signs, as parts of the trail are under construction or closed during wet weather. Check the Central Arkansas Water Lake Maumelle website for up-to-date information. AMENITIES Bathrooms and water can be found at WestRock Landing Marina and the Pinnacle Mountain Visitor Center. Water bottles can be refilled at the visitor center and are available for purchase at the visitor center and marina. RULES No camping. No e-bikes. Pack all trash out. Lake Maumelle is part of the Maumelle River Wildlife Management Area, and in hunting season, it’s a good idea to wear orange. ARKTIMES.COM

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RAZORBACK FANDOM, MY BLACKNESS AND THE ALMOST INVISIBLE LIFE OF E. LYNN HARRIS. BY FREDERICK MCKINDRA

RUE PIG SOOIE: Writer Frederick McKindra visits War Memorial Stadium in Little Rock to ponder whether there’s room for a Black gay man within the largely straight and white culture surrounding the Razorbacks and the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville.

BRIAN CHILSON

othing brings out my inner snob more quickly and satisfactorily than the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, the chance to turn up my nose at the Razorbacks. But I’m starting to understand this hoity-toity attitude as a reflexive defense against a complicated FOMO, which perhaps says more about me than it does about the U of A. What features of Razorback fandom do I confess to longing for? A taste for cold beer, childhoods spent tailgating with one’s parents, being gifted a pickup truck in high school, participating in any number of water or outdoor recreational activities during the summer. Having an affiliation with the state’s majority that might grant me the eternal blessing and consideration of local movers and shakers. You know, white people stuff. Cosplaying as a good ol’ boy, basically. I’m trying to become better about naming the envy or jealousy I feel as an adult, emotions no one wants to claim because it’s an admission of longing, tainted by lack or weakness. When I think of Fayetteville, I think of a kind of cut-and-paste conveyor belt to security and comfort. It is a terrarium where inside the glass, plastic coeds go about playing their parts in a rom-com or — better yet — a reality show: “Love Island of the Ozarks.” It’s taken me into my 40s to realize that the meritocracy I long valued doesn’t just measure success by who manages the best grades. Life beyond academia keeps score on so many fronts — who’s most attractive, who’s the wealthiest, who’s in the best shape, who’s having the best time. Sometimes, when I look at the U of A, I wonder if I’m in fact losing the game. If only I were able to abandon the ceaseless drama of coveting the lives of white folks. But, alas, this institution, the favored pet of the state, incites these kinds of feelings. Which is not to say the university and its alumni are without any redeeming qualities. I’ve known many U of A grads to be resilARKTIMES.COM

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ments — all of these things resurface in my memory in the wake of a seemingly unrelated incident down in Mississippi, and the mortal fear of white disregard for Black humanity resurfaces.

BREAKING GROUND: E. Lynn Harris, a U of A student in the mid-’70s, was the university’s first Black, male cheerleader and first Black yearbook editor.

hills of Northwest Arkansas. So with this example, can I finally reconsider my ambivalence toward the institution and begin to dismantle my idea of the place as a bastion of white heteronormativity? And then, as I’m beginning to ponder the themes for this essay, Nolan Wells, an 18-year-old Black junior college football player, dies in southern Mississippi while partying with a crew of friends — all white guys — after riding on one of their family’s boats to Horn Island on the Fourth of July. Suddenly, all the old terror about letting your guard down and allowing oneself to be seduced into the proximity of whiteness comes crashing down around me. Fraternity members mocking the death of George Floyd; racially tinged arguments on message boards over whether the U of A should play games at War Memorial Stadium in “crime-ridden” Little Rock; rumors of watermelons being thrown from a parking deck when Barack Obama was elected president; the accusations of race-baiting around coach Nolan Richardson’s firing; the mistreatment of Joe Johnson in his recruitment to play at the U of A as a Prop 42 athlete; coach Lou Holtz backing segregationist candidate Jesse Helms of North Carolina in 1983; the struggle to integrate the school’s athletic depart-

THE ALLURE OF RED AND WHITENESS “It was 1969, I was 12 years old, and I had a boyhood crush on the Arkansas Razorbacks football team,” E. Lynn Harris wrote in Sports Illustrated in 2003 of his upbringing in Little Rock. “Mama, and everyone else in my neighborhood of colored people (that’s what we called ourselves then), didn’t like the Razorbacks because they were lily-white; in 76 years of fielding a team, they had had but one black player, a walk-on in ’66. My neighbors pulled instead for the all-black mighty Bearcats of Horace Mann High and the Golden Lions of Arkansas AM&N, a historically black college in nearby Pine Bluff. “But even though mama tried her best to steer me away from the Razorbacks — she wouldn’t even let me listen to their games on the big radio in the kitchen — they were my passion. I would read legendary sportswriter Orville Henry’s columns in the Arkansas Gazette as if they were love letters from Miss America contestants.” Harris seemed primed for a charmed life in Fayetteville. His childhood had been a study in fleeing the rank homophobia of his midcentury working-class Black community by attracting the favor and patronage of white benefactors, first at the racially integrated but by then predominately Black and poorer West Side Junior High in Little Rock, then at the predominately white Hall High School, before continuing on to Fayetteville and then a short-lived corporate career at IBM. It’s a bit harrowing to imagine such a big part of your identity deriving from distinguishing yourself from the racial community you come from. Something about that feels familiar, though, if I look at it through the lens of escaping the alienation experienced for your sexual identity by fleeing into white environs. Something like what Black people mean when they derisively accuse Uncle Toms or Oreos (Black on the outside, but white on the inside) of believing, “The white man’s ice is colder, his sugar sweeter and his water wetter.” There’s the interminable allure of acceptance and ease to be found among white people for Black gay men who’ve been castigated by their own community. I’ve certainly been accused of this at times, and sometimes even accepted it as my truth. Harris wrote of his abiding preoccupation

ARKANSAS MEMORIES PROJECT, COURTESY OF THE PRYOR CENTER FOR ARKANSAS ORAL AND VISUAL HISTORY, UNIVERSITY OF ARKANSAS

ient, hard-working, resourceful and even self-deprecating, their humility seemingly derived from being trained in a system that dwarfed them. State schools check your ego like this, it seems, forcing you to become a part of a horde. And maybe that develops some part of your character, being a small piece — but just that — of something so massive. No doubt it’s the reason so many co-eds are steered into fraternity and sorority culture in the first place, to shrink such a hulking environment somewhat. On the outside looking in, though, everyone at the U of A seems to always be having so much fun as they float through all those longstanding traditions, the football games and Greek life. Ole Miss alum and college football writer Steven Godfrey recently told me in an interview for the Oxford American that schools like the U of A are being marketed as resorts. “You’re turning on the TV every Saturday and watching a 3-hour advertisement of 72-degree weather, young attractive people, essentially a ceaseless party, right? Then you get online and you look at social media culture, and see RushTok at places like Alabama and Ole Miss. It all compounds into selling a vacation,” he said. But, as the party rages, I feel like I’m relegated to just looking on, having not actually been invited. I think what I’m trying to admit here is that while I have some curiosity about accessing mostly white spaces, they scare me, and it’s not worth expending the social and cultural capital to access them if they’re only ever going to hold me at arm’s length. Is there really room within the firmament of the U of A — with a Black population that makes up about 4% of the student body (as opposed to roughly 15% at both the University of Central Arkansas and Arkansas State University and nearly 25% at UA Little Rock), with a Greek culture so firmly entrenched that organizations famously host high school students to begin indoctrinating them into the system before they’ve even graduated — to truly accommodate and support the growth and well-being of a Black gay man? There is, of course, the fabled path of the late E. Lynn Harris (1955-2009), a bestselling Black gay writer who attended the U of A in the mid-’70s and then returned as a professor and cheer coach in the early 2000s. Given his status as the university’s first Black, male cheerleader and first Black yearbook editor as well as his eventual career trajectory, Harris seems to offer proof of someone like me’s ability to establish genuine community — and post-graduate success — in the rarified

with whiteness in his 2003 memoir “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted,” explaining that he chose to transfer schools in the eighth grade because he was “curious about white people” and that “‘Archie’ and ‘Richie Rich’ comic books had become my windows to the white world I was so curious about.” Which is not to argue that Harris was a snow queen, or a Black gay man with an ultra-selective sexual appetite for white men. At least that perspective is not evidenced in his fiction, where he, as a writer, took obvious delight in describing the various hues of Blackness — the “silk chocolate skin,” the “honey-amber skin,” the “beautiful cider-brown [complexion]” — of his casts of characters. I think it might be important to distinguish the kind of gay man Harris was from the kind that I am. While I’m sure he had his affectations, Harris was not the type to shield himself from the potential violence of the world by armoring himself with pomposity. “He believed very much so in the value of showing up well,” Kimberly Williams, a former Arkansas cheerleader and Miss Arkansas contestant who was coached by Harris in the 2000s, told me. Harris’ literature, despite privileging gay and Black characters, was decidedly mainstream and sought “happy endings.” Even in his memoir, he wrote of not driving Interstate 540 into Fayetteville until he returned in 2003, because he only knew “the old pig trail.” Homespun colloquialisms like that make me cringe. All that quaint folksiness you hear in something like “Dixieland Delight” by the country-Western band Alabama. I, unlike Harris, feel much more hostile to honky-tonk kitsch, having once savored learning of the U of A’s designation as a “land grant” institution because that moniker sounded so agrarian, so hick-ish in a way I decidedly was not. But I want people to understand this seeming haughtiness of mine as partially a defense mechanism, the withering critique of a gay man trying to steel himself against the hurt of being excluded, of the physical and romantic longing in oneself that so often goes unrequited. The default response to navigating life as a sexual minority is either feeling “brokenhearted,” as Harris confesses to having felt, or recasting oneself as more urbane, more sophisticated than one’s origins, as Harris also did, often imagining himself enrolling at my alma mater, Howard University in Washington, D.C. “My first thought was to leave school, and I considered transferring to Howard University. Howard sounded good because of D.C. and its large ‘gay problem,’” he wrote in his

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WHEN I THINK OF FAYETTEVILLE, I THINK OF A KIND OF CUT-AND-PASTE CONVEYOR BELT TO SECURITY AND COMFORT. IT IS A TERRARIUM WHERE INSIDE THE GLASS, PLASTIC COEDS GO ABOUT PLAYING THEIR PARTS IN A ROM-COM OR — BETTER YET — A REALITY SHOW: “LOVE ISLAND OF THE OZARKS.”

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through a megaphone. THE PRODIGAL GAY SON RETURNS While Harris enjoyed a clandestine affair with Mason Walker, a football player from Oakland, California, during his senior year at the university, he wouldn’t begin the long slog of coming out of the closet until sometime after leaving Fayetteville in 1977 to live and work in cities like Dallas, New York, Washington, D.C., and Atlanta. In its wake, however, Harris’ sexual identity seems to have left him much more magnanimous than me. While we both learned the machinations of appearing highly sociable, probably out of necessity, Harris’ literary success made him incredibly generous. When, after publishing several novels, he returned to Fayetteville as an English professor and coach in 2003, he wanted to create a community for Black people in that predominantly white space. “At one point we led the entire SEC in having African American cheerleaders. I think we had nine or 10. But all of us came through him,” Brandon Hammons, a former Razorback cheerleader who Harris affectionately called his son, told me. Without Harris’ intervention, Hammons might have skipped college altogether, having enlisted in the Air Force just before Harris recruited him to the university for his tumbling. Winning admission and a partial scholarship to the school redirected the course of his life. “He always gave back and always mentored and made sure that we understood that cheer was a privilege to represent the university in the way that we did,” Hammons said. “We were well-known on campus. And then whenever we would go on away trips, we

ARKANSAS MEMORIES PROJECT, COURTESY OF THE PRYOR CENTER FOR ARKANSAS ORAL AND VISUAL HISTORY, UNIVERSITY OF ARKANSAS

college years in his memoir, we’ve already read of his habit of sublimation, which he deployed throughout high school to disguise and deny his sexual proclivities. His interest in student government at HOMECOMING: After becoming a bestselling writer, E. Lynn Hall High derived Harris returned to the U of A as a professor and cheer coach in from an attempt the early 2000s. to “overachieve so people wouldn’t notice the differences about me that I was bememoir, following the dissolution of a close ginning to hear loud and clear in my heart.” friendship in Fayetteville. Black people Later, he “realiz[ed] that my interest in polisometimes see flight as a kind of revenge. I tics and the support of others was a search for certainly did once, when I absconded from self-esteem. If I could win an office … [white Little Rock to the storied HBCU, discovering a campus that, while Black, did not afford people] would view me as an equal, while black students would respect me and look much visibility to queerness. Much of Black life on the U of A campus up to me.” All of which makes you wonder in the early ’70s seems to have happened whether some of the good times he claimed in a marginal universe running parallel to to have had in white academic spaces wasn’t the more mainstream lives of white class- just a way of masking all the disappointment mates, according to “What Becomes of the he felt in not being able to claim himself fully. Still, sifting through digitized issues of Brokenhearted.” “The three hundred or so the Black Americans for Democracy News, black students formed a community within a campus publication that existed from 1971the university community,” Harris wrote of 1977 and that Harris edited in 1975, one can campus life during his undergraduate years. read about and see the quiet dignity of the Regarding his relationship with a close white university’s fledgling Black community. As friend from Arkansas Boys State who largely pugnacious as a small-town bulletin, the painfluenced his decision to come to the U of per recorded both the gleeful triumphs and A, Harris wrote: “We talked on the phone ofthe bitter hostilities encountered by a beset ten, but the socialization of the campus pretribe of Black Arkansans struggling to secure vented us from spending a great deal of time purchase on an unfriendly campus. There together.” again is Harris, cheerleading the community, By the time Harris begins describing his shouting the accomplishments of the group

would get the best lodging. … We did a lot of things and received a lot of things that other SEC schools didn’t get.” Whether the feeling of welcome extended to every Black student on campus or not, Harris certainly supported the Black cheerleaders, providing them with a home away from home. Harris lived comfortably in his sexual identity in Fayetteville in the early aughts, according to his former assistant Celia Anderson. “I never met an E. Lynn who was in the closet,” she told me. “Now, he wasn’t flamboyant. He was very masculine. But it was never a secret, and it wasn’t secret to his students. It wasn’t a secret to colleagues. … By the time I met him [in 2003], he had already evolved into this human being who was so authentic that it was inspirational.” Perhaps this owes to Harris’ own personal growth by this point in his life. But then too, maybe this kind of openness toward people of different sexual orientations could be said to be an indication of Fayetteville having become a bit more cosmopolitan. Harris also seemed to find a Black community of peers in Fayetteville as an adult that made him feel even more at home in the town. “There was finally an adult community of African Americans, people doing things. And so it was really a great place to be. That’s kind of why I went ahead and bought a house here. Now I’m at a point in my life when I will always come back. I’m just that comfortable here. I’ve met some wonderful people and I’ve had some wonderful students,” he shared in an interview for an oral history called “Remembrances in Black: Personal Perspectives of the African American Experience at the University of Arkansas 1940s-2000s.” “He would have these parties, but they were the most elegant affairs,” Anderson recalled. “They would be catered, he would have soft jazz, and people would show up, and you would have intellectual conversations. He just created this collection of people from all walks of life that would get together. And he would provide everything.” If Fayetteville lacked the kind of social scene Harris had by then grown accustomed to from his time in New York and Atlanta, he could manufacture such an environment. A part of me wants to call bunk on this facade of conviviality. It could be argued that a Fayetteville that truly accepted Harris would have treated his legacy with much more care than it has. His impact would have reached ARKTIMES.COM

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I’M STILL NOT SURE I CAN WHOLEHEARTEDLY CLAIM THE UNIVERSITY OF ARKANSAS FOR MYSELF, THOUGH. IT SEEMS THAT FOR A BLACK PERSON, ONE HAS TO BE COMFORTABLE BEING TANGENTIAL TO THE OVERALL SWEEP OF THE INSTITUTION.

further into the recesses of the place, making it seem different, more open, better than it does. To me, Harris is worth the kind of enshrinement I’ve seen Toni Morrison and Ta-Nehisi Coates enjoy at my alma mater, but I’ve yet to meet a creative writing student who studied at the U of A after his death who’s aware of his work. I wonder if the literary acclaim and the attendant wealth relieved Harris of the obsequious performativity white people always seemed to draw from him. I suffer from the same affliction, my nerves in the face of their privilege causing me to default to a kind of disingenuous animation that makes me grin and nod my head involuntarily. The sensation running through my body while engaging them sometimes is not unlike feeling desire, though I’m too ashamed to simply call it that. Perhaps that’s what made it bearable the second time around — the celebrity, festooning himself with Black achievers, and an entourage of student athletes. He’d by then picked himself up from a suicide attempt in D.C. in 1990, the time when he’d imbibed 100-proof vodka and a bottle of sleeping pills due to a debilitating bout of depression over his abiding loneliness. This feat of fortitude one certainly cannot sniff at. I’m wary, though, of Black achievement narratives that single one of us out, the university having perched Harris on a shelf in a gesture of self-congratulation while he was producing bestsellers but ultimately not proving itself a faithful steward of his legacy posthumously. A HOME FOR ME, PERHAPS I’m still not sure I can wholeheartedly claim the University of Arkansas for myself, though. It seems that for a Black person, one has to be comfortable being tangential to the overall sweep of the institution. The main point of places such as these is reinscribing a certain narrative on succeeding generations of white Southerners. But for Black, or queer, folks, it seems that spaces connected to auxiliary organizations (cheerleading, the drama program, etc.) are necessary in order to have a satisfying experience. I wonder if Harris would have been able to impact the life of an unathletic, Black student in Fayetteville, someone like me, whose volubility hid a clandestine, shame-inducing queerness that remained masked from most of my peers in those years. Reviewing the spotted racial past of the university, one quickly recognizes an aggrieved response by white folks to accusa-

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tions of racism by Black people affiliated with the university. Usually, a charge is made by someone represented by the late, famed civil rights attorney John Walker, like Nolan Richardson in 2003 after his firing. Still, there is also a legacy of protest and mutual aid at the U of A. This same rambunctious spirit has inspired the NAACP today to strike up the “Out of Bounds” campaign, where Black players are being asked to boycott playing for SEC teams because of efforts to hamstring Black voting rights in some Southern states. And, of course, there’s the Twitter hashtag — #BlackatUark — a phenomenon that sparked in the wake of George Floyd’s killing, where “former and current Black UARK students, faculty, and staff unified … to oppose dominant public memories of Senator J. William Fulbright and share their experiences of anti-Black racism on campus,” according to a paper by T. Jake Dionne, Jake Hatfield and Gabrielle Willingham. Also, I’ll admit how gratifying it is watching Joe Johnson on the “Nightcap” podcast these days with Shannon Sharpe and Chad “Ochocinco” Johnson, remembering the discourse in the local papers and on sports talk radio about how his standardized test scores weren’t high enough for him to be admitted to play for the Razorbacks. Such scornful talk, about one of the state’s native sons no less, only reified the seeming disposability of Black athletes, and by extension Black people, by the university and its fanbase. Of course Johnson went on to star for the Razorbacks, remembers his time in Fayetteville fondly, and proceeded on to a legendary career in the NBA. But witnessing his facility with expressing complex ideas and sports analysis on such a major platform feels like vindication against all the aspersions cast on his intellect — and by extension Little Rock schools — back in 1999. Reading the recollections of Edward Duffy, a graduate student at the university from 1972-74, from “Remembrances in Black,” you can even find evidence of Black U of A students working on behalf of Black students throughout the state, protesting to halt campus construction until “they fix[ed] some of the problems at the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff.” Duffy also shares an anecdote of Black students dispensing some physical justice on behalf of a Black female classmate who was assaulted by a white male student. There are, however, times when the well-being of the U of A seems to supersede the fate of any of the other state-supported institutions of higher learning. Like in 1974, when the Department of Health, Education and Welfare’s desegregation plan included a “policy that allowed tuition waivers to a lim-

ited number of blacks attending the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff, a historically black college, if they transferred to a school ‘where their race will be in the minority,’” according to “Remembrances in Black.” This seeming favoritism has bedeviled UAPB since 1959, when it was the only college in the state whose budget was cut that year. The state reasoned that “‘the legislature for several years had given favored treatment to [UAPB] as part of the effort to stave off school integration,’ and that some legislators believed the school wouldn’t need as much money going forward because integration would open the door for Black students to attend other schools,” according to Leon Jones III, reporting for the Arkansas Times in 2025. Any other school in the state was considered a superior option to the state’s only public HBCU, and funding was diverted to those options, at the expense of the Black institution. I wonder what impact making Harris’ memoir “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” required reading would have on incoming freshmen at the university. I imagine it going a long way toward building the kind of empathetic capacity literature is famous for creating. What kind of transformation might the culture in Fayetteville undergo were successive generations influenced by the life, struggle and ultimate triumph of a poor, Black, gay Little Rockian, who took his training from those same hills all the way to The New York Times bestsellers list? Perhaps, in the meantime, I should take direction from Harold Colclough, one of my older brother’s best friends from high school, a former student at Dillard University, an HBCU in New Orleans, with a Black wife and Black kids, whose extended family nevertheless decided to gather annually with friends and their huge family to host a tailgate party in Little Rock for Razorback games that has attracted an integrated but mostly Black crowd of supporters for going on 12 years now. Who knows whether this tradition will survive the Razorbacks’ official decampment from War Memorial Stadium. Will the Colcloughs now travel to Fayetteville? Probably not, says Harold’s cousin Kalon, who reported that on their previous sojourn to the U of A’s home field of Reynolds Razorback Stadium, the campus police seemed selective about who they enforced the open-container prohibitions and noise ordinances against. Still, there’s no need to stop having a party altogether, Kalon said. Perhaps they’ll use the occasion to support UAPB’s tailgating efforts instead. The Colclough cousins’ advice, along with Harris’, it seems, is to take up space wherever and whenever you can. And try to have a good time while doing it.

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THE OBSERVER

WINGING IT

t was 11 p.m. in downtown Little Rock, and The Observer was awake in bed in the dark when my cats started making a ruckus. Typical late-night behavior, so I paid it no mind. At least until a manic buzzing sound filled the room and made me investigate. I flipped on the lights and found not the cicada I expected, but a small bat lying flat on the ground, wings spread, with the cats surrounding it on both sides. I frantically yelled to my partner in the other room. We’d heard about the astronomical price for treatment if you’ve been exposed to a bat that might have rabies, so we got to work. Thus began a ridiculous and truly “Saturday Night Live”-worthy scramble to capture the bat so we could get it tested. I’ll spare you the play-by-play, but the process of trapping it involved such bleeding-edge innovations as a trash can, multiple trash bags, a sketch pad, a fitted sheet, a plastic storage container, a piece of cardboard and an ungodly amount of duct tape. We slept that night with the light on, the still-alive bat stowed as far away from us as we could get it. First thing the next morning, my partner called the Arkansas Department of Health and proceeded to be passed around between a few comically clueless people until we were finally put through to the Little Rock Animal Village, which mostly specializes in facilitating the adoption of furry friends. One of the volunteers there, however, was quite helpful and connected us with Jennifer at the Department of Agriculture. Jennifer was quite helpful as well, but was also the bearer of some very unpleasant news: The bat would need to be dead before being delivered to the state lab for testing. Stephen, an extremely knowledgeable employee at the state lab and the next quite helpful person we dealt with,

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made us feel better by saying that, unless I woke up with the bat literally in the bed with me, it was very unlikely that I had been bitten, but that we were doing the right thing by getting it tested. Then he made us feel worse by suggesting that we kill the bat using the freezing method, which is about as simple and gruesome as it sounds. Thus began another morbid and hectic comedy routine of relocating the bat to a container small enough to fit in our freezer. Needless to say, bats are very good at clinging; the situation demanded much shaking. About 10 minutes passed with the bat stuffed in the chill chamber before the visceral thought of the poor animal dying a slow and frigid death overwhelmed me, so I got Stephen on the phone again and pleaded my case. For some reason, he agreed to let us drop the bat off alive. We carefully followed Stephen’s instructions, and a little later we found ourselves at a strange loading dock behind War Memorial Stadium. It absolutely did not feel like civilians were supposed to be there. After exchanging some crunchy, nearly indiscernible words through an ancient intercom system, we were let into an industrial-looking entryway filled with cardboard boxes. We explained the situation to the mystery man inside, who took one look at the container-bound creature and told us that it was already dead. The little guy had, after all, been put through the wringer. We filled out some nonsensical paperwork, got the hell out of there and headed home to wrangle our four felines for an emergency visit to the vet for rabies booster shots — only one of the cats peed themselves! About 24 more hours of anxiety later, we got a call saying that our specimen’s rabies results had come back negative. Happy Halloween, I guess.

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