A gang of Southern outlaws
whose adventures go comically awry
“Judson Hout is a great storyteller and The Boys of Possum
Grape is an entertaining story of the rural South.”
— The Honorable Harry F. Barnes, U.S. District Judge, Western District of Arkansas
“Politically INcorrect fun—and I mean that in a good way!”
— Cindy Ward, Dallas, Texas
“Roaring out loud funny!”
— Fred Grubbs, retired Pentagon staff officer, Tucson, Arizona
“Judson Hout’s stories are endlessly inventive and funny.”
— Brian Hardwick, CEO of Regal Energy, Dallas, Texas
“Laughter will follow the comedic adventures of the bunch of
Arkansas ruffians whose exploits are colorfully detailed by Judson Hout. I couldn’t put it down.”
—Kerry Stafford, President, Bryncon-Grillot, LLC, Belle Chase, LA
I was born and raised in Newport, Arkansas. We were a family of four, my father was a lawyer, my mother a homemaker, and my younger brother Phillip who would grow up to be a lawyer. I was always expected to be a lawyer and planned to be one until our senior yearbook came out about a month before I graduated. I have never told this before, but here is what put the idea of becoming a doctor in my mind. My friend, Sarah, wrote the class prophecy which was a spoof and quite funny. She wrote about me, “Judson Hout will be a great surgeon and a rival of the famous Mayo Brothers. Even now he can cut a watermelon open”. (Some of us were known to steal watermelons!) That put the idea in my head, and finally I just said, ‘why not’!
We lived about a hundred feet north of the base of the White River bridge. To the south of the bridge was Chastain’s Addition, a poorer area, but where three of my closest friends (Carlos, Gene and Leroy) lived.
Those were idyllic days. No shoes in the summer except for Sundays, out of doors from breakfast until dark, playing on the bridge, riding bicycles everywhere we went, chasing the ice wagon---those were some of the things we did. Newport was a great place to grow up, and that era was wonderful.
Photo by Mary Brown