![]() ![]() I ended up making a living as a writer and editor in New York but often wondered if I’d turned my back on my true subject (and that of so many writers): home. (Little Rock was an apt stand-in for Washington because our state capitol building is a smaller replica of the U.S. The bronze sculpture by Henry Moore planted at the major intersection of Main and Capitol was a lonely, abstract traffic cop, and a couple of months before I left, a crew filming a miniseries about a terrorist attack had its pick of empty storefronts to blow up. People drove downtown to work at the banks and government offices, then abandoned it at night. The retail stores that had for decades anchored the city’s lively center shuttered one by one or moved to malls in the city’s western precincts. In the early 1970s, Main Street had been closed to traffic and turned into a pedestrian mall, but over time, one with fewer and fewer pedestrians. When I flew out of Little Rock on January 1, 1986, to try to become a writer in Manhattan, there didn’t seem to be much of a place to leave. The Arkansas capital has seen its share of booms and busts, but today the city is on the move ![]()
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