All About Jack Neely

When I first heard Jack was being honored this year by the Society of Professional Journalists, my first thought was, "What the hell took so long?!" I mean, how many award-winning stories, columns, books, internet programs and broadcast interviews does a guy have to produce before he can be publicly teased and tormented before an entire room of his colleagues? Geez. And if you know Jack well, you know exactly how much he's enjoying this public spectacle right now. Speaking of... Has he slipped out the back door unnoticed yet? Ah, not yet, so someone please secure the exits immediately because this is going to be fun, just not for Jack.

We all know Jack is Knoxville's very own absent-minded history professor. You know the type. He can pass long-time friends on the sidewalk downtown and not even notice them because he's so engrossed in other things turning like clockworks in his head. But should we really be surprised? When you know a story about every old building, street and light post in downtown Knoxville it's easy to be distracted and not always notice the other humans along the way. Long-dead musicians, mayors, soldiers and saloon owners are apparently more interesting than the live ones anyway.

But this notorious introvert does have another side. Just turn him loose with a tour group or to lead a pub crawl and you can't shut the man up. On several occasions I've witnessed him talk for almost three solid hours to an amazed group of tour-goers and never tell the same story twice. Then afterward he'll mention his regret about all the other stories he forgot to tell. And taking a walking tour with Jack can sometimes be like an Iron Man competition for history buffs and those using literature as an excuse for drinking. The pace of his "walking" portion of the tours can feel like a full-on gallop to the elderly, the unfit and those of us with short legs. On one tour of Fort Sanders I literally had to chase him up a hill on 17th and ask him to slow down before one of the octogenarians in the back had a heart attack. He hadn't noticed he'd left us behind as he led the way to the next stop on the grand adventure. Of course, he obliged -- until he forgot again two blocks later -- and the tour continued until well after dark with only the hardiest souls still in tow. But, everyone loved it, of course. He knew so many things so many of them had never heard before or had long forgotten. 

And it's ironic that such a lovable Luddite, who seems to stubbornly and proudly cling to that affliction and who's probably logged more calls to the Scripps IT help desk than anyone else on payroll, should basically be the equivalent of Google Chrome whenever anyone is looking for information about Knoxville history. We couldn't do our job nearly as well at Knox Heritage without Jack. I'm not a historian by training. I started out in journalism and didn't even grow up here, but many people -- including a few journalists I know - assume I know every detail about Knoxville's history. Well, I don't most of the time. I just know enough to be dangerous and Jack Neely's phone number. I've learned most of what I know about Knoxville's past from Jack and his writing. No question is too obscure. Actually, the more obscure, the more interesting it is for him. And no matter what you need to know, he's probably come across the answer -- and remembered it! -- during his countless hours in the stacks and microfilm at the McClung Collection. Or, if he doesn't know the answer he'll emerge from the depths of the library with it at some point after spending hours tracking it down. They should just give him a cot and start charging him rent. Though he's so cheap he would never pay.

That doesn't mean Jack isn't generous in his own way. He would cringe if he actually ever calculated the retail value of all the free tours and talks he's given over the years, but he almost always says yes to the countless requests from non-profit groups and civic clubs. Maybe he consoles himself by thinking it helps sell his books. It's probably best if he doesn't know the truth -- the Optimists, Rotarians and Brewers' Jam ticketholders won't be funding his retirement. But Knox Heritage has been especially lucky to count on Jack more times than we ever deserved and we are grateful for that.

Over the last 20 years Jack has written about a lot of Knoxville traditions, but I do believe he can claim responsibility for at least one himself. Jack was one of -- and most say THE -- originator of what some people fondly refer to as the Prayer Meeting every Wednesday night at the Brew Pub -- otherwise known as "drinking with journalists" by us laymen. I know many of you are familiar with this weekly ritual -- but I'll protect my sources and not name any names tonight. You know who you are. Even after more than 15 years it still attracts an eccentric and sometimes surprising mix of the notable and the obscure. And it's the place where you can really find out what's going on in this town -- all the things you folks can't share with the rest of us and the things we can't tell you on the record. It's become an offbeat institution - very much like its founder, who still turns up every now and again. It's just like Jack to move on to the next thing when the last thing that interested him becomes too popular. Let's just hope he doesn't do that to downtown in general now that it's becoming everything we all hoped it would be. 

Though he wasn't born in Knoxville, Jack has called it home for almost his entire life. Knoxville is lucky to be Jack Neely's hometown. Though he won't admit to loving it, he does want all of us to know its' fascinating, quirky, back story. It seems to have become his civic duty to hold up a looking glass and show us that it's more remarkable and unique than we ever thought. Where would we be without him? How would we know how interesting and important this place is? How would we know that it's filled with more stories than anyone can tell in a lifetime? Although I'm sure Jack will try. That almost every downtown block can reveal more about our town than we knew existed? Like the stories about Kid Curry dashing through our streets or New York Times publisher Adolph Ochs racing home past the First Presbyterian Graveyard in his youth. Who would remind us that one of the country's greatest directors grew up in a house over on Scott in Old North Knoxville and we shouldn't tear down the theatre named for him? Who would tell us our stories, if not Jack? So, here's to our historian, our raconteur, our Jack Neely.