Author's success never overshadowed love of home.

August heat in Arkansas can be brutal. Even in the northwest corner of the state, generally 10 degrees cooler than anyplace else in Arkansas, it's unforgiving and uninviting for anybody that doesn't have to be out in it.

So when University of Arkansas spirit team coordinator Jean Nail saw author E. Lynn Harris sweating alongside her cheer and pore squads at a fan appreciation event in August 2001, she realized just how much the position meant to Harris. He began volunteering with the cheerleading team that year and Nail, though thankful for the help, privately wondered how long Harris would stick around.

Harris had been the school's first black male cheerleader. He was back serving his alma matter as a visiting professor and approached Nail about coaching after judging cheerleading tryouts on several occasions.

Deep down it seemed too good to be true. Harris had long since left the state and had achieved great financial and critical success. There had to be better things for a New York Times best-selling author to be doing than standing in the August heat and suffering in the sun with 20-something cheerleaders and rabid Razorbacks fanatics from places like Hazen, De Queen and Goshen.

"He was out there like everybody else. He wanted to be there," Nail said. "He's like me, he got goose bumps when calling the Hogs. He loves the tradition of the Razorbacks. He started out loving them. They were a continued thread in his life. He was excited to come back and play a part."

Harris, who died July 23 at age 54 in Beverly Hills, Calif., of a heart attack, had legions of fans from coast to coast, particularly in urban cities like Washington, D.C., Houston and Atlanta.

Honestly, Harris' life and his creative works dealt with some pretty challenging stuff for your typical Arkansan. He was black. He was gay. He was a living, breathing rags-to-riches story.

But Harris, to me, best sums tip the power of the Razorbacks. He shared just as much passion for Arkansas athletics as a farmer from Gillett. There's not much those two guys would have in common, but on Saturdays in the fall, they were united, Calling The Hogs and hoping for the best for their team.

Harris Never Really Left Home

Among the details in Harris' memoir, "What Becomes of the Brokenhearted," is how badly Harris wanted to leave Arkansas as a young boy growing up in Little Rock. Once he got out, Harris felt compelled to come back. No matter where his travels took him, he kept a home in Fayetteville.

For the past eight semesters, Harris served as a visiting professor for the English department.

Harris' love of Arkansas and the Razorbacks might be best summed up in his work with the spirit squads. He volunteered as a coach and sponsor, but was so much more.

Perhaps the squad itself or a squad member needed help in some way. Harris was there. He provided financial assistance when nobody was looking and he was always available to listen. Always.

Similar stories can be told from those who dealt with Harris in other avenues. He shared whatever he could, whenever he could, whether it was his money, his knowledge or his time.

My wife and I were fortunate enough to spend time with Harris the week before he died. Harris was back in Arkansas supporting a cheerleader who was competing in the Miss Arkansas pageant. Our nights at the Embassy Suites in Hot Springs generally ended with us and other friends in Harris' room eating, laughing- a lot--and talking about a variety of topics that somehow always led in one way or another back to Razorback football.

Never did he come across as a guy who'd sold 4 million books. But the time spent with him only enforced what others like Nail had experienced in getting to know Harris.

No matter how famous Harris got, no matter how complex he was, he always had time and passion for this state, its people and, of course, his Razorbacks.

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Follow Chris Bahn on twitter @cbahn. Also check out his blog on ArkansasSports360.com.

ArkansasSports360.com Northwest Editor Chris Bahn can be reached at [e-mail]. Feel free to send questions and comments his way.