The Man Who Saved Jacksonville From Itself
You're sitting right at the edge of Jacksonville, Pulaski County, Arkansas, just a stone's throw from where Camp Joseph T. Robinson sprawls across the landscape. This city of about 28,000 souls sits smack between Little Rock and the Air Force base that's defined its destiny for generations.
Jacksonville today is majority white, around sixty percent, with a significant Black population of about thirty percent and a growing Hispanic community approaching eight percent. The median household income hovers around 42,000 dollars, notably below the state average. You'll see a lot of younger families here, military connected, with that constant churn of arrivals and departures that base towns know so well. The housing stock tells the story, modest ranches and apartment complexes built for people passing through or just starting out. Most folks work either on base, in Little Rock's hospitals and offices, or in the retail strips along Highway 67.
But here's the thing about Jacksonville: it almost destroyed itself in the 1990s. The city was hemorrhaging residents, businesses were fleeing, and racial tension simmered just below the surface. Crime was climbing. The schools were struggling. People who had options were leaving.
Enter Tommy Swaim, who became mayor in 1993. Now, Swaim wasn't your typical politician. He was a businessman, plain-spoken, and he did something radical: he actually listened. He brought together Black leaders and white leaders, business owners and pastors, base commanders and teachers, and he asked them all one question: what do you need to stay?
Swaim pushed through a complete overhaul of city services, professionalized the police force, and most importantly, he made Jacksonville open for business again. He courted retailers when everyone said they'd never come. He fought for infrastructure improvements. He created youth programs that gave kids alternatives to the street corners.
By the time he left office, Jacksonville had stabilized. The population stopped its freefall. New strip malls opened. The tax base grew. He didn't perform miracles, but he gave people a reason to believe their city had a future.
As you roll through town, look at those shopping centers, that rebuilt civic infrastructure. Someone fought for all this when it would've been easier to let it slide into the past.
| 01 | You're sitting right at the edge of Jacksonville, Pulaski County, Arkansas, just a stone's throw from where Camp Joseph T. Robinson sprawls across the landscape. This city of about 28,000 souls sits smack between Little Rock and the Air Force base that's defined its destiny for generations. Jacksonville today is majority white, around sixty percent, with a significant Black population of about thirty percent and a growing Hispanic community approaching eight percent. The median household income hovers around 42,000 dollars, notably below the state average. You'll see a lot of younger families here, military connected, with that constant churn of arrivals and departures that base towns know so well. The housing stock tells the story, modest ranches and apartment complexes built for people passing through or just starting out. Most folks work either on base, in Little Rock's hospitals and offices, or in the retail strips along Highway 67. | 0:56 | |
| 02 | But here's the thing about Jacksonville: it almost destroyed itself in the 1990s. The city was hemorrhaging residents, businesses were fleeing, and racial tension simmered just below the surface. Crime was climbing. The schools were struggling. People who had options were leaving. Enter Tommy Swaim, who became mayor in 1993. Now, Swaim wasn't your typical politician. He was a businessman, plain-spoken, and he did something radical: he actually listened. He brought together Black leaders and white leaders, business owners and pastors, base commanders and teachers, and he asked them all one question: what do you need to stay? Swaim pushed through a complete overhaul of city services, professionalized the police force, and most importantly, he made Jacksonville open for business again. He courted retailers when everyone said they'd never come. He fought for infrastructure improvements. He created youth programs that gave kids alternatives to the street corners. | 0:54 | |
| 03 | By the time he left office, Jacksonville had stabilized. The population stopped its freefall. New strip malls opened. The tax base grew. He didn't perform miracles, but he gave people a reason to believe their city had a future. As you roll through town, look at those shopping centers, that rebuilt civic infrastructure. Someone fought for all this when it would've been easier to let it slide into the past. | 0:23 |