The Town Square Podcast copertina

The Town Square Podcast

The Town Square Podcast

Di: Trey Bailey Gabriel Stovall
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A proposito di questo titolo

Not just another podcast, but a place to meet in the messy middle and have difficult discussions with transparency and diplomacy where the outcome is unity, not uniformity.

The primary topics will be the local interests of Newton County, Georgia residents and those in the surrounding community.

All rights reserved. Economia Gestione e leadership Management Politica e governo Relazioni Scienza Scienze politiche Scienze sociali Spiritualità Successo personale Sviluppo personale
Episodi
  • Jim Corbin: The Everywhere Man (and Why Newton County’s Better for It) – Episode 70

    Jim Corbin: The Everywhere Man (and Why Newton County’s Better for It) – Episode 70
    Jan 20 2026
    If you’ve ever been to a ribbon cutting, a Chamber luncheon, a Rotary event, or basically anything happening in Newton County… you’ve probably seen Jim Corbin.That’s exactly why we wanted him on Episode 70 of The Town Square Podcast.At first glance, Jim is just one of those familiar faces who’s always smiling, always shaking hands, always showing up. But once we sat him down at the mic, it became obvious: Jim isn’t “everywhere” because he’s bored. He’s everywhere because he’s living on purpose.His story is part small-town Southern, part entrepreneur, part community-volunteer superpower… and part “I shouldn’t be here, but God kept me here for a reason.”And somehow—because Jim is Jim—we still managed to weave in hot sauce, barbecue competitions, moonshine experiments, disc golf gear, and a (wild) Newton County history lesson about Dried Indian Creek that none of us will forget.From South Carolina roots to Clayton County hustleJim’s story starts with family movement and working-class grit.He was raised early on in Beach Island, South Carolina (Aiken County, right across the river from Augusta). His dad worked in the propane industry, and when a business opportunity pulled the family toward Atlanta, they relocated. Eventually, Jim’s father started his own propane business in Clayton County—back when Clayton was still pretty rural.That entrepreneurial energy clearly stuck.Jim followed a path that blended education and skilled trade, eventually spending 45 years in the heating and air industry, including 32 years running his own business in Clayton County while raising a family.It’s the kind of story a lot of folks can relate to: work hard, build something, take care of your people, keep showing up.But then… life took a turn.2018–2020: Kidney failure, a fall, and a diagnosis that changed everythingIn 2018, Jim’s health took a major hit: kidney failure.Even with that, he kept working and powering through. He made it through the chaos of 2020 like the rest of us… but then on October 2, 2020, he fell, hit his head, and ended up in the hospital.That fall exposed something bigger.During testing—in the middle of COVID—Jim found out he also had leukemia, while dealing with a brain bleed and being on dialysis.At that point, it was a stacked list nobody wants:Kidney failureDialysisBrain bleedLeukemiaICULong hospital stayJim ended up being sent to Emory, where he stayed for 75 days. At one point, he woke up in the ICU and found out he had a Do Not Resuscitate order on file.That’ll make a man pray.Jim described it as a moment that became very real, very personal, very spiritual:“You brought me back twice. There must be something you have for me.”And that line—more than any title or hobby—might be the real center of Episode 70.“I got out of the hospital and didn’t even know I was retired.”One of the most jaw-dropping parts of Jim’s story is what happened while he was still in the hospital.While Jim was fighting for his life, his family handled business—literally.His son, son-in-law, daughter, and wife sold his company while he was in the hospital. Jim told us:“So when I got out, I was retired and didn’t even know it.”Afterward, he faced a long recovery, including six more months of chemo even after leaving the hospital. He had to rebuild basic strength—wheelchair, walker, cane, then walking again.Once he started regaining his footing, Jim and his wife sold their home (after a guy randomly approached wanting to buy it), moved closer to family in Covington—especially to be near their granddaughter—and Jim started asking a question that a lot of people face in a new season:“What am I supposed to do now?”The “Pepper’s” chapter: marketing, hot sauce, and making the roundsWhen Jim was able to start working again, he connected with Pepper’s Heating & Air, a local company that had impressed him. He spent about a year and a half doing marketing for them—going to events, Chamber functions, building relationships, promoting the brand.And this is where the story gets extremely Jim Corbin.Because Jim didn’t just market the company with flyers and business cards…He helped create a custom hot sauce as a marketing tool.A local hot sauce maker—Petreaux’s Gourmet Hot Sauce—worked with Jim to create a custom label for Pepper’s. Jim handed out little bottles everywhere, and it became this perfect “Jim” thing: fun, memorable, and somehow effective.Even after Pepper’s sold (and Jim didn’t go with the sale), the hot sauce connection stayed relevant because the maker’s products are still available—Jim even tells you exactly where to find them at Publix.That detail tells you everything about how his brain works.Habitat for Humanity: the mission he believes he was “saved for”While the Pepper’s chapter explains why you saw Jim all over Newton County for a while… Habitat explains why he’s ...
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    1 ora
  • Chief Royce Turner: Building a Culture of Service, Safety, and Sustainability – Episode 69

    Chief Royce Turner: Building a Culture of Service, Safety, and Sustainability – Episode 69
    Jan 6 2026
    A Chief With a Story—and a CallingChief Turner didn’t stumble into public safety. In fact, he told me he believes he was raised into it without realizing it.He grew up in a family culture where helping people wasn’t a hobby—it was the posture. That theme showed up again and again in our conversation: service as identity, not just occupation.But before fire service ever entered the picture, Chief Turner was a sports guy. A real sports guy. He played anything with a ball and was good enough to earn a full basketball scholarship. That shaped him—teamwork, discipline, pressure, leadership, competitiveness. And like most athletes with talent, he had the same dreams a lot of young men have: NBA, NFL… something big.Then college ended.And as his mom put it, it was time to go into “the real world.”That’s where the path got interesting.He Worked Every Side of Public Safety Before Fire ServiceWhen Chief Turner says he’s been in public safety, he means it. Before becoming a firefighter, he had already worked in multiple public safety arenas:Department of CorrectionsHe started in corrections, working at a facility in Hall County known for housing young offenders—young people whose trajectories were hard to watch. He described it as disheartening. For him, the big question became: “Can I make an impact here?” And after a lot of reflection and prayer, he realized the answer was no.Sheriff’s Department / Law EnforcementHe transitioned to a sheriff’s department environment (in and around Atlanta) and again ran into that same internal tension. Could he make an impact? Could he thrive in an environment that felt like it was swallowing people more than helping them?Again, the answer was no.And that’s when his father asked the question that changed everything:“Have you ever thought about fire service?”Chief Turner’s response was honest and almost funny in the moment:“Absolutely not. I’m scared of fire.”Which is about as logical as it gets.The Application He Forgot AboutHere’s the part that feels like a movie scene.Chief Turner applied to the City of Atlanta Fire Department, but the hiring process took so long—about three years—that he literally forgot he had applied.Then one day the call came.They asked if he was still interested.And he had to remember what job they were even talking about.But the timing was perfect. He was already in that transitional season, searching for something that fit. So he took the leap.He called it faith.I call it courage.Finding His Niche: Competition + Teamwork + Helping PeopleOnce he got into fire service, something clicked immediately.He described it like finding his niche—because fire service combined the elements that were already wired into him:CompetitionTeam dynamicsBrotherhoodMissionHelping peopleAnd he talked about mentors—especially one named William Jucks—who didn’t just teach him the job, but helped him see the career. Not just “firefighter,” but growth, development, and leadership.That mentor pushed him toward paramedic training, and Chief Turner’s initial reaction was relatable:“I don’t want to go back to school.”But he was told something important:If you want to be relevant in fire service, you need to be a paramedic.So, he did it.And he didn’t quit.He admitted it was hard. He said he wanted to quit multiple times, and he was surrounded by people who found reasons to drop out, which made quitting feel easy.But his upbringing wouldn’t allow it:If you start something, you finish it.That mindset became a pattern. Year after year, he challenged himself to grow.And eventually, he rose all the way through the ranks in Atlanta—starting as a recruit and reaching Deputy Chief in one of the largest departments in the region.Why Newton County? Because It’s FamilyChief Turner could’ve stayed in Atlanta. He even thought he might be next in line for Fire Chief there.But leadership shifts happen. Politics happen. Timing happens.And he made a decision: it was time to lead his own department.That’s when Newton County came into the picture in a deeper way, because while he grew up in Atlanta, he told me something I didn’t know:Newton County is his second home.His grandmother was born and raised here. Many of his relatives are here. He attended church here as a kid—specifically Bethel Grove Baptist Church.And he said his mom added some “peer pressure” with a line that hit hard:“I’m not going to be here forever… your grandma would be proud.”So, when the opportunity opened, the choice wasn’t just career—it was personal.Newton County wasn’t a stop.It was a return.“I’m Like a Reptile”: Leadership and AdaptabilityAt one point, I asked him about leadership—because nobody becomes Fire Chief by accident.His answer was unexpected and honestly memorable:“I’m like a reptile.”He explained what he meant: he can adapt to the environment. He knows when to step back and let someone else...
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    48 min
  • Pastor Charles Prescott II: Hope in the Messy Middle — A Christmas Conversation About Calling, Grief, and Community – Episode 68

    Pastor Charles Prescott II: Hope in the Messy Middle — A Christmas Conversation About Calling, Grief, and Community – Episode 68
    Dec 16 2025
    There are some conversations that feel timely.Others feel important.And then there are those rare conversations that feel necessary.This episode of The Town Square Podcast—our Christmas special—falls squarely into that third category.As the year winds down and the calendar edges toward Advent, Gabriel and I sat down with Pastor Charles Prescott II, Senior Pastor of Macedonia Missionary Baptist Church in Covington—affectionately known by generations of members as “The Mac.” What unfolded was not just an interview, but a holy pause. A space to breathe. A place to name grief honestly, to talk about leadership without ego, and to rediscover hope—not as something loud or flashy, but as something faithful, steady, and often found in the smallest places.This was a conversation about calling—and what happens when you try to run from it.It was about institutions—the church, law enforcement, education—and how trust is built when faith in those institutions feels fragile.It was about grief—personal, communal, generational—and how it shows up most loudly during the holidays.And it was about hope—not as denial, but as disciplined remembrance of what God has already done.In other words, it was exactly the kind of conversation we believe belongs in the messy middle.A Pastor Who Didn’t Want to Be a PastorOne of the most compelling parts of Pastor Prescott’s story is that he never aspired to the title he now carries.“I didn’t want to be a pastor,” he said plainly—without bravado, without irony.For more than a decade, he ran from ministry. Twelve years, by his own account. Until his grandmother—wisely and lovingly—reminded him that sometimes when you keep running, you’re only circling the thing God has already assigned to you.That tension—between resistance and surrender—became a recurring theme throughout our conversation. Because many people listening right now aren’t running from a pulpit. They’re running from a hard conversation. A leadership role. A responsibility they didn’t ask for. A calling they feel unqualified to carry.Pastor Prescott’s journey—from Augusta to Atlanta, from youth ministry to bi-vocational leadership, from law enforcement to the pulpit—offers a powerful reminder: calling is rarely convenient, but it is persistent.From the Streets to the Sanctuary: A Leader in Two WorldsPastor Prescott doesn’t just lead a historic church. By day, he serves as the Chief of Police and Associate Vice President of Campus Safety at Morehouse College, his alma mater.That matters.Because few people understand the complexity of Black male leadership quite like someone who has lived on both sides of the institutional divide. He has investigated some of Georgia’s most high-profile cases. He has supervised in systems where trust is thin and scrutiny is constant. And yet, when he returned to Morehouse—back to a campus filled with young Black men—he was reminded of something essential.“These aren’t suspects,” he said.“These are sons. Scholars. Future leaders.”That re-centering reshaped how he pastors.It gave him language for bias—not as accusation, but as reality.It reinforced the importance of listening before correcting.And it shaped his conviction that leadership—whether in law enforcement or ministry—requires humility, patience, and emotional intelligence.You cannot lead people well if you only see them through your worst experiences.Stepping Into a Church Still GrievingWhen Pastor Prescott arrived at Macedonia Missionary Baptist Church in April, he didn’t step into a blank slate.He stepped into grief.The previous pastor had passed away—a beloved leader whose absence was still deeply felt. For more than a year, the congregation had existed without a shepherd. And anyone who has ever loved a church knows: when a pastor dies, the loss is not just professional—it’s deeply personal.“I walked into hurt,” Pastor Prescott shared.“And I had to work on the inside before we could ever focus on outreach.”That insight alone is worth sitting with.In a world obsessed with growth metrics, branding strategies, and outward impact, Pastor Prescott named a counter-cultural truth: sometimes the most faithful thing a leader can do is tend to wounds before chasing vision.In-reach before outreach.Presence before programs.Listening before leading.Authenticity Over PerformanceAt 147 years old, Macedonia Missionary Baptist Church carries deep tradition—and with tradition comes expectation.Pastor Prescott didn’t dismiss that history. He honored it. But he also made something clear early on: authenticity matters more than performance.That means preaching with substance—not Saturday-night specials.It means sneakers with a suit when bunions demand it.It means sermons that can withstand Google fact-checks from the pews.“We’re in a generation that wants depth,” he said.“They want to know how this changes Monday.”It was ...
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    1 ora e 3 min
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