J.B. Collins
J.B. Collins never planned to be a newspaper reporter.
He never planned to spend a night in friendly Athens, Tn., with bullets whizzing from either side.
And he never planned to be holed up with a clan of snake handlers at Dolly Pond.
But he wouldn't give anything for the experience.
Mr. Collins, who is honored at City Hall with the designation of the J.B. Collins Meeting Room, turns 100 on Sunday.
His father was a Chattanooga plumber and he expected he would follow in that line. As a result he said he was content with being just a C student at Central High. But then John Chambliss, founder of Reflection Riding in Lookout Valley, had a talk with his father, who was his plumber. Mr. Chambliss, who served as a trustee at King College in Bristol, called J.B. in and told him he had a lot of promise. He said he wanted to sponsor his education at King.
J.B. jumped at the chance. "I told myself that I was going to do something and not let down that man who had put his confidence in me. I really applied myself and wound up as the valedictorian."
After graduating in 1940, he returned home and covered a few sporting events for E.T. Bales, sports editor at the Chattanooga News Free Press afternoon newspaper. Then he was thinking he might want to be on the news side.
Mr. Collins recalls going in to see "Mr. Roy" McDonald, publisher, to run the idea past him. He said, "I told Mr. Roy how I had gone to King and made valedictorian." He said Mr. Roy was not impressed. "He looked at me and said, 'Reporters are born, not made.' Then Mr. Roy went on about his business with no further comment."
He said he was crest-fallen, but E.T. Bales said he would have a talk with Mr. Roy about it. He told J.B. to take a seat in the newsroom. He said he did so - with some fear and trepidation.
He said, "After a while, Mr. Roy came walking by where I was sitting. He looked at me, then walked on."
Mr. Collins says, "Within a month, I was one of his favorites. He was calling me "Shotgun" and letting me drive his car to Erlanger to gather reports for stories there."
He was behind the wheel of the McDonald car and was at a stop sign when a man suddenly bolted into the vehicle. He recalls, "He put a gun into my side and began cussing me." Mr. Collins began driving, going out Brainerd Road. He said he had an idea and asked the guy if it was ok to make a turn. The man said it was. During the turn, J.B. thrust open the driver's door and rolled out. Then he got up and ran for his life. Mr. Roy's car went careening into a ditch and police captured the carjacker. J.B. learned later that the man had done a similar stunt before - tying another man to a tree.
He began going on special assignments - including scouting out the strange goings on with serpents at the extremely rural Dolly Pond Church of God. He said, "Those people really embraced me and let me take lots of pictures. But I never embraced their snakes."
While he was on this assignment, one of the pastors was bitten by a snake and died. J.B. wrote a picture-filled booklet about it all that is a rare commodity today.
He also went up to Athens for what was later referred to as "The Battle of Athens." He said there was a corrupt administration in place. At the same time, GIs were coming back from World War II and wanted honest government.
He was there for election day, and he got wind of the fact that the in crowd knew they were beaten in the election, but they were determined not to yield power. So he was told they planned to move the ballot box and stuff it with their own ballots. He said, "Sure enough, here came several officers, and two of them were carrying the ballot box. I got in front of them and began taking pictures."
He said they grabbed his Speed Graphic camera and ripped out his film. Then they told him he was going to jail. "What for?" he asked. The sheriff replied, "I don't know. We'll think of something."
Mr. Collins said he was placed in jail with a young man. He said he asked him, "What are you in for?" The man replied, "I voted wrong."
They let him out after a couple of hours behind bars. He got his camera back, but not his film of the ballot box caper. Then he "went back to work."
Mr. Collins stayed in town all during the night. He said shots began to ring out - with the sheriff's crowd on one side of town and the GIs on the other. He said, "There must have been a thousand shots fired. Fortunately, no one was killed."
At one point during the night, he said there was a surge in the crowd. He started running too and was ahead of the pack. He said he wound up wedged in a storefront with dozens of others piling in after him. He said, "I looked up and saw a sign that read: 'Athens - The Friendly City.' "
He drove back to the office the next morning, typed up his story, produced the photos including one of a deputy with a gun to someone's head, then finally went home.
Mr. Collins eventually went on the city beat. Each day he would walk down 11th Street, then up the steep steps of City Hall. He would visit the mayor, the commissioners and the department heads. Some of his best tips came from clerks or from the elevator operator - Ruth Thomas.
Mayors came and went while J.B. was on the beat. Not many remember Mayor Ed Bass, but he does. He wrote about every one in his popular "Collins at City Hall" Sunday column.
He stayed on well past his 70th birthday - until his afternoon paper was sold and then merged with the morning paper.
Mr. Collins for many years spent a lot of time fishing with his sons, Benny and David. Later, he took up golf and became a regular at the city's Brainerd Course for decades. His every-day partners for many years included Virgil Simmons and the cigar-chewing Truck Collins. He notes, "He was no relation, but we called each other Cuz."
He was still playing 18 holes of golf when he was 97. But he said, "I finally just did not have the stamina."
Another longtime sideline was photography. He spent many hours with John Chambliss at Reflection Riding photographing trees, shrubs, flowers and vistas. He was still paying back the man who had confidence in him.
Mr. Collins met Jack Lupton when they both ate breakfast at the S&W Cafeteria and they became friends. He began photographing all the Lupton weddings. Mr. Lupton also got him ensconced with other Lookout families.
He by himself shot what was considered the biggest local wedding of them all when David Foote Sellers Johnson brought in a band from California for his daughter's huge shindig at his Lookout estate.
For many years, he was the official photographer for the Cotton Ball.
On Sundays, J.B. has always been a faithful church attendee. He long went to Westminster Presbyterian. When it closed, he switched to First Presbyterian. He was a deacon not long ago - often taking the offering. He and his beloved wife, Polly, each Sunday can be found in their spot - on the right side down near the front.
That's where J.B. Collins plans to be this Sunday - on his 100th birthday.