| Travels of Dursmirg Vol. 2 |
VOL 2, CHAPTERS 4-6
CHAPTER 4 Cumberland Island
Our first encounter;
One Sunday while we had our boat anchored across from Fernandina Beach, Florida waiting to put it on a marine
railway at Rawl’s Boatyard, we ventured across the river and downstream to Cumberland Island to beachcomb and
explore.
With our dinghy and its ten-horse power motor that I had tuned to go fast, we breezed along rapidly like a
hydroplane and made the trip in minutes.
Dursmirg’s Bingy Dinghy at full speed skimming the waters of the Sea Islands.
Cumberland Island is the longest of the Georgia Sea Islands and most southerly. It has an interesting history,
which I will describe later.
We arrived at low tide and pulled our dinghy high up on the beach. We had just set foot on the island and two gorilla
sized men came running out of the bushes and instantly asked us our business there. My reply was that, “we came
to beach comb and explore”. Their reply was, “no-good, not possible, must leave at once”.
There was no arguing with those two and we were on our way. We later learned that Richard Nixon was visiting for
the weekend at a resort named Grayfield Inn and his security people were doing their job. At the same time Richard
Nixon had a home on Biscayne Key near Miami and the security was so intense there that boats couldn’t get within
two miles of the shore without being turned back by air and sea security forces.
A BRIEF HISTORY ABOUT CUMBERLAND ISLAND, GEORGIA AS WE SAW IT:
Cumberland Island was called (Tacatacoru) by the local Indians; the Spanish came and called it San Pedro and the
English under Oglethorpe called it Cumberland after Duke William Augustus Cumberland.
Not until the well moneyed Thomas Carnegie appeared on the island in the 1880s did any perceptible change take
place.
This low windswept well isolated barrier island, that was 18 miles long and 3 wide is separated from the mainland on
the north by Saint Andrews Sound, the south by the Saint Marys River that also forms the border with Florida and to
the west by the vast sprawling marshes of Camden County, Georgia. The east side of the island on the Atlantic
Ocean has a hard packed sand beach equaling Daytona’s in size, but without traffic.
With a six-foot tidal range the beach at low tide is like a smooth paved superhighway that Jane and I have bicycled
from end to end several times enjoying the unprecedented solitude. All along this beach is flanked by huge ever
shifting wind driven sand dunes that inadvertently cover the low wind twisted and knurled oak and cedar trees.
The road from the Grayfield Inn up and over the sand dunes to the Atlantic beach.
This is a view at the top of the dunes looking north from the point where the Grayfield Inn road crosses
the island. Note the trees buried by the shifting wind driven sands.
Jane and I came to know this strange and interesting place when our friends Steve and Lum Brown took a summer
job at the Grayfield Inn owned by Lucy R. Ferguson who was part of the prestigious and very wealthy Carnegie
family. Grayfield Inn was built in 1900 on this largest of all the Sea Islands, Cumberland Island. From what I have
been told, the very rich industrialist Thomas Carnegie’s daughter Margaret Ricketson had a daughter who was then
the owner of Grayfield Inn, Lucy R. Ferguson.
Our friends Steve and Lum lived aboard their 25 foot wooden sailboat named Sea Dog which they anchored off the
Ferguson dock in the protected waters on the west side of the island. We had gotten to know Steve and Lum our
first winter in Saint Augustine and had also rendezvoused with them several times over the years in Fernandina and
Savannah.
Lucy R. Ferguson’s, grandson Metty was the captain of the island ferry boat which belonged to the Grayfield Inn.
Metty Ferguson took the ferry to Fernandina Beach, Florida every day to pick up clients for the Inn and also to
transport cargo and vehicles to and from the island. This is where Metty met our friends, Steve and Lum Brown, at a
coffee shop on the main street of Fernandina. Steve and Lum spent a good deal of time in the coffee shop enjoying
their favorite drink of iced coffee.
So this is how Jane and I got to know the Ferguson family and also this lovely island. We were invited to visit
Cumberland Island and then anchored our Dursmirg along with Steve and Lum’s boat near to the Ferguson
ferryboat landing at Grayfield Inn.
Lucy R. Ferguson signed our logbook aboard our boat Dursmirg October 12th 1975 and we could tell that although
she was well up in years that she still had that special sparkle in her eye as she sprightly sprung up and aboard our
boat. We got a special feeling that she would have loved to have pulled our anchor and disembarked to anyplace
that needed exploring that very moment and not looked back.
For Lucy who had known the Carnegie fortune and all of its privileges she chose Cumberland Island and the
Grayfield Inn for her golden years. She was a real take charge type of person and loved to ask questions of our
travels and adventures at the same time administering to the Inn’s multitude of operations. When things got too
hectic Lucy would make the announcement that she was “going off the air” and then just turn her hearing aid off. We
loved this gem of a person and her sprightly spirit just rubbed off on everyone around her.
Lucy R. Ferguson’s Grayfield Inn on Cumberland Island on the west side overlooking the river and
marshes of Camden County, Georgia.
The Carnegie family like many of the richest of New England families in their economic circles from the boom times
of the American industrial expansion of the 1800s came south to commandeer these islands and create their own
private kingdoms.
Thomas Carnegie built the Dungeness mansion and a whole community of support buildings including a furniture
factory that even made all of the furnishings, doors and windows of elegant quality to supply their new private island
kingdom.
The name Dungeness was borrowed from a hunting lodge built on the south end of the island that the English
colonizer James Oglethorpe had constructed when this was a British colony. Oglethorpe named the island after
William Augustus Cumberland from Kent in England whose estate there was named Dungeness.
In 1959 one of the caretakers at the Dungeness mansion shot a poacher who then escaped. The following week the
Dungeness yacht was sunk and the mansion set ablaze. This was clearly a case of “river rat’s rage and revenge”.
No charges were ever brought against the poacher and the case was closed.
The Dungeness mansion was never rebuilt and only left for nature and time to pull it down. This was enough and the
estate was put on the market.
Ten years later, in 1969, a land developer named Charles Frazer purchased the estate.
Charles Frazer had begun to develop Hilton Head Island in South Carolina that he had purchased from one of New
England’s wealthiest industrialists named Alfred Lee Loomis. Loomis was a Wall Street financial wizard who saw the
1929 stock market crash coming and pulled his enormous holdings off the market at its peak. Famous for his private
scientific research laboratories at Tuxedo Park in New York, Loomis spearheaded major breakthroughs in radar and
nuclear fusion that put the US ahead of Japan and Germany during WWII.
Alfred Loomis bought up Hilton Head Island parcel by parcel at absurdly low prices and the island became his
private kingdom. (Read the book: Tuxedo Park)
When Loomis sold out his land on Hilton Head Island he cut Charles Frazer a fabulous deal on the largest portion of
the island.
Frazer then began to develop the island and sold off parcels of land. (Alfred Loomis then told Frazer that he was
crazy for selling out so cheaply.)
By the 1970s Frazer was riding high on his cash flow and spending like there was no end in sight.
In 1969 Charles Frazer purchased a large tract of land on Cumberland Island from the Carnegie estate and had
plans to develop it.
The economic turndown of the early 1970s put an economic pinch on Frazer and at one point his heavily mortgaged
holdings went into receivership including his fancy yachts.
With some fancy footwork and financial manipulations Charles Frazer did whatever he had to in order to salvage his
sinking ship.
Because of the extremely depressed real state market buyers were just about nonexistent except for one. The
federal government had deep pockets and Charles Frazer cooked up a deal to establish a national park with his
land that had turned into some kind of a white elephant for him.
This didn’t just happen; as there was extreme opposition to his plan as Jane and I were about to witness. The
federal government had already sent out their scouts to sniff out the deal and they were very conspicuous driving
around the island in their two tone green pickup trucks sporting large emblems on the front doors with the federal
governments round, brown seal.
One Sunday afternoon our friends, Steve and Lum Brown, took us to an islander’s get-to-gether at a private home
on the north end of the island owned by a young feisty lawyer from Jacksonville, Florida.
There in the driveway was one of these two-tone green pickup trucks with the big brown federal government seals.
Upon closer scrutiny the spoof was there to see, the look-alike emblem distinctively displayed the words, “EMINENT
DOMAIN” and the truck belonged to the young lawyer from Jacksonville whose home we were visiting.
Once the wheels were in motion there was just no stopping the governments imperceptibly slow forward motion and
the Cumberland Island National Seashore became reality.
The most prestigious of these palaces that was put up by the Carnegie family, who incidentally owned
90% of the island, was the Dungeness mansion pictured above.
Our photo of the ruins of the Dungeness mansion taken in the 1970s
Oh, by the way!
This is an interesting story about our beachcombing on one of those spoil islands near to Cumberland Island.
After anchoring our boat Dursmirg well off the Intracoastal Waterway, we ventured in our dinghy to one of these
spoil islands adjacent to where the King’s Bay channel had been dredged. We had the whole world to ourselves this
lovely spring evening, or so it seemed. The tranquility was extra special this evening as we were far removed from
the sights and sounds of any other civilization.
Dursmirg anchored near Cumberland Island.
As Jane and I strolled along the beach unearthing many fossilized treasures, a raccoon charged out of the bushes
and attacked Jane and clung to her leg and wouldn’t let go. Jane screamed with fright!
Then we got another surprise when our friends Gary and Penny Kubchek appeared. It turned out the raccoon was
their pet and they had just arrived in their dinghy from Fernandina Beach to spend the evening searching for shark’
s teeth. We were very happy to see them and learn that the raccoon did indeed belong to them and was not some
wild rabid creature on the attack.
We invited them to visit us on our boat after they were done beachcombing and they accepted.
It was a lovely evening and we had left our boat wide open to take advantage of the cool and fresh sea breezes.
Gary and Penny said that they would leave their pet raccoon in their dinghy so that their pet’s inquisitive nosing
wouldn’t disturb our belongings or us.
We enjoyed some of Jane’s homemade wine and shared many a story because we had been acquainted with Gary
and Penny for several years and had had our boat at Rawl’s Boatyard in Fernandina alongside theirs two years in a
row. We knew many of the same people because the boating community was just like a special fraternity of
likeminded individuals
Well, a few minutes passed and surprise! We had a visitor standing inquisitively in our companionway; it was this
cute little raccoon with his “bandito” mask.
We were all surprised and curious as to how this little bugger had managed to get aboard our boat. Upon
inspection, we discovered that the raccoon had managed to pull Gary’s dinghy up to our boat by tugging on the
painter line until the two boats were close enough and then he merely jumped aboard our boat.
Gary had the solution to that problem this time and returned the raccoon to his dinghy and then he paid out over
one hundred feet of line and secured his dinghy. In this fast running tidal current the little raccoon would find it
physically impossible to lift that much line. So, we confidently returned to our conversation and wine sampling
knowing that the raccoon would have to wait in the dinghy.
Oh, my God! There that little bugger was again! This time he was dripping wet but his “smirky” look of satisfaction
was unmistakable.
Now we had to figure just how this ingenious little critter managed to get aboard our boat. We knew that it would be
impossible to climb up the sides because there was absolutely nothing a swimmer could have grasped from the
water.
Upon close scrutiny we found the wet paw prints leading from our bow. Then the mystery began to unfurl. Evidently
after becoming exasperated trying to pull Gary’s dinghy forward, the little critter just swam forward to our boat.
Attempted to board and then swam all the way around to the bow of our boat where it spotted the anchor line
leading from the water up to the bow of our boat. There was his route. It swam to the anchor line and then hand over
hand, (I should say paw over paw), made his way up to the boat…this time very wet.
CHAPTER 5
GLYNN COUNTY, SAINT SIMONS ISLAND AND FORT FREDRICA
***
In the heartland and at the center of the Sea Islands is located Glynn County, a special and very unique place.
When Jane and I first sailed our Dursmirg south down the coast through the Sea Islands in the fall of 1972 we
witnessed the Sidney Lanier Bridge that had just days before been plummeted into the river below on November 7th,
a result of a collision with the sea going vessel SS African Neptune.
We had heard a terrifying story of the automobiles parked on the bridge and waiting for it to close so that they could
proceed. Two young men seeing the imminent and impending collision situation approaching frantically ran to notify
all the other persons waiting there but none would respond and they even rolled up their car windows and motioned
the young men away.
Our getting to know and love Glenn County didn’t come until the following year when we had the time and we could
go slow, stop and explore.
To us it was a wondrous water world of interesting and fascinating islands separated by big sounds and rivers. The
extensive salt marshes extending far off almost endlessly were like looking out across the Dakota prairies. These
isolated Sea Islands are separated from the mainland that is so distantly removed.
The feelings that are inspired by this natural beauty give the beholder a reverence for the magical words that
Sidney Lanier so eloquently put down in his epic poem the Marshes of Glenn back in the 1870s. Sidney Lanier was
only 28 years old when he visited Glenn County and was inspired to write his masterpiece that has given him his
time tested following.
In the south of Glenn County, Jekyll Island holds a quiet elegance of residential prominence where the Morgan’s,
Astor’s, Pulitzers and Rockefellers established their island kingdom in the era of the American industrial
expansionism.
Jekyll Island also has a state park with fishing pier and large camping facilities nestled in the native coastal forest
that tends to be booked to capacity throughout the spring, summer and fall.
At the northern end of the Sea Islands in Glenn County is another jewel, Saint Simons Island where Jane and I have
visited numerous times over the years; first with our boat Dursmirg and then later many visits by road.
Saint Simons Island is where James Edward Oglethorpe established Fort Frederica back in 1736 along with a
settlement as an outpost to give the British a deterrent to the Spanish and French who were also staking claim to as
much New World land as their imperialistic leaders could grab.
Fort Frederica is now in a state of ruins but the National Park Service maintains the site as a national monument
open to the public.
The beautiful grounds are definitely worth a visit and it is especially delightful if you can come by boat as we first did.
The fall of the year makes for the very best season of all when the multitude of pecan trees are hanging heavy with
nuts, the elderberries are in season and the quiet hush of autumn casts its magical spell over the gigantic oak trees.
The American naval vessel Old Ironsides was constructed from the wood cut from this island using the natural bend
of the oak trees to form its ribs and planking.
I would recommend a bicycle tour through the winding roads of the island in spring or preferably in fall to witness the
huge oak trees draped in their mystical Spanish moss that will give a hauntingly memorable and uplifting
remembrance well worth the effort.
Then I recommend reading Eugenia Price’s priceless books about the area in days gone by. These books were
done in a trilogy: Lighthouse, volume 1, New Moon Rising, volume 2 and Beloved Invader, volume 3. When you have
finished these mesmerizing books you will find it compelling to visit this area, and if you haven’t done so you will
certainly be drawn there.
On the north end of the island is located the ritzy and very elegant “Cloister Hotel” built back in the 1920s by the
motor car multimillionaire Howard Coffin, it lends the neighborhood a touch of class.
These lovely Sea Islands are connected to the mainland by bridge and very long causeways across the “Marshes of
Glenn” from the city of Brunswick.
The city of Brunswick is a strange mix of seaport, industrial activity and residential that claims to have 36 buildings
still standing that are pre-1819. The city isn’t all old elegant homes and has still got the “poo-folks” with their humble
little unpainted wooden abodes.
The busy harbor has a large commercial shrimping fleet along with heavy traffic from sea-going freighters. Rail and
trucking tie and unite the shipping from land to sea.
The industry that feeds the seaport is mostly linked to the forestry products produced and processed in industrial
Brunswick.
From pine stumps and poles, this industry ships out among other things, turpentine, charcoal and even nitro
cellulose. It would be possible to get around this odiferous town with a scratch and sniff map. I found that I kind of
liked these aromas and scents of the wood related processing plants.
Hercules Inc. with its “etherification”, “hydrogenation” and “polymerization” can and does turn forestry products into
some of the strangest but most useful products imaginable; chewing gum, artificial flavors, cosmetics and even
cleaners are but a few of the end products to come out of these curious facilities.
The company, Brunswick Wood Treating, BWP, pressure treats wooden pine poles with “CCA” or cromated copper
arsenate and also “PCP” or pentachlorophenol that renders this wood totally impervious to any and all living things.
The above-mentioned facilities are but a few of the myriad of industrial facilities in the Brunswick area.
This coastal Sea Island area has for some reason attracted a strange and interesting conglomeration of processing
facilities and one of notorious repute is the facility south of Brunswick at the city of Woodbine, Georgia named Union
Carbide.
In 1984 the Union Carbides facility at Bopal, India accidentally spilled 40 tons of methyl isocyanate and hydrogen
cyanide exposing 500,000 people to the noxious chemicals. 2,000 died and there were 300,000 permanent injuries
as a result of this catastrophic catastrophe. Of course, the company promptly closed the offending plant in Bopal,
India and then moved their production to quiet and isolated little Woodbine, Georgia.
***
A letter than Jane wrote to her folks:
1975 September 23
Sea Islands, Saint Simons;
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel,
I tried calling today to have you send the mail but had no luck. It is a five mile bicycle ride to the nearest
phone so I am sending a letter instead as there are bad rainstorms headed this way due to hurricane Eloise
so we won’t get to the phone again tonight. We are anchored at Fort Frederica National Park on Saint
Simons Island, Georgia.
Will you please bundle up all of our first class mail in one package and forward it to us here. Don’t send any
parcel post packages, as they take too long. If you send more than one package please send me a letter and
let me know.
Send to us %General Delivery
Saint Simons Island, Georgia 31522
I’ve only got 4 quilt squares left to do but I’ll wait until we get to Saint Augustine to have you send the rest.
I suppose you are busy digging potatoes about now. How is the weather? It is hot here but windy. I’ll write a
letter in a few days when I have more time.
Love Jane and Bing
P.S. I mailed some pictures for prints to Rex Photos for prints today. When they come % Eunice Pearson
keep the prints and send the slides when I call for mail again.
***
1975 October 2nd
Sea Islands, Saint Simons;
A letter that Jane wrote to her Folks;
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel,
We got the mail on Monday, September 29th. Thank you so much for sending it.
We are still at Saint Simons Island but will be leaving very soon. We will be going on the marine railway in
Fernandina during the week of October 12th. We were going to leave here Tuesday but a hurricane was
bearing in on the Atlantic so we decided to stay here. Since then hurricane Gladys has moved away from the
U. S. Tuesday we have been busy painting all the steel on the boat plus the white sides.
We didn’t get anything but one short rain shower and a little wind from Eloise. I hope we don’t get anymore
than that from anymore this year.
Thanks for sending the pictures. I wasn’t too good at centering the picture. The picture of Dad, with the
garage in the background was supposed to have both of you in it. You can keep the negatives.
I’ve got another batch of pictures coming to you, of that all I want is the photo of Marge and I and the slides.
The rest are for your album. If you have an extra envelope from Rex Photo could you send one to me?
The next place I will have you send mail to is Saint Augustine, but I’ll write from Fernandina and let you
know when.
I’m glad the wines turned out good. I haven’t made up raspberry yet, but I will as soon as my elderberry gets
done.
I just made another pecan pie. Bing loves them so it’s the fourth one I’ve made since we got to Saint Simons.
The grounds at Fort Frederica are covered with pecan trees.
I’ll write again from Fernandina Beach. I’m sending back my extra pins…I’m done with my quilt squares.
How is Grandma doing? How did the trip to Percival Mine and Clevedon go?
Love Jane and Bing
***
In our wanderings of Saint Simons Island and especially around the grounds of Fort Frederica National Monument
we couldn’t resist the abundance of pecans that were so overly copious that their quantity overwhelmed even the
multitudes of squirrels. Jane and I had no problem harvesting enough of them to keep us in pecan pies and other
baked goods until we got to south Florida that fall.
Elderberries were profuse enough to perpetuate Jane’s wine production and that dark red heavy bodied wine turned
out to be one of our all-time favorites. To this day we are still in production and even have several of those prolific
elderberry bushes at our home in our tropical garden here in Mérida, Yucatán, Mexico.
One fall day as we were harvesting some elderberries one of the park rangers came by and had to ask us what it
was that we were picking. We told him and then he said to be sure to leave some for the birds and squirrels. We
were surprised that here was someone obviously on the federal payroll being compensated to oversee this naturally
wooded park area that had absolutely no idea what he was there to oversee…we did notice that he also couldn’t be
bothered to step out of his vehicle.
***
(Note; in another year on one of our return trips from Daufuskie Island heading south Jane made the following notes
in our logbook )
From a note that Jane wrote:
1974 November 3rd Sunday (Daufuskie Island-heading south)
Sea Islands
We left our anchorage at Papy’s Landing, Daufuskie Island, South Carolina at 7:10 AM. We dropped anchor
again at 15:45 at Walberg Creek, Saint Catherine’s Island, Georgia. We went looking for clams and got 50,
(plenty for supper), in just a few minutes.
We saw what we thought were fish along the shore, Bing got the cast net and went after them. He took the
wrong net, they turned out to be shrimp jumping.
After he got back we took a bath in the cockpit.
It was a real warm sunny day, 80 degrees.
November 4, 1974, Monday;
Would have been a good day to stay in bed. Got up at 6:30, we were socked in the fog so thick that we
couldn’t see either bank. Fog lifted at 9:40 and we were on our way. Progress was slow- current against us
at every turn.
Met five yachts, two that made our “shit-list”: Penthouse II from Montreal and My Sin of Delaware. They left
huge wakes, (mountainous waves). Also saw 3 sailboats and a barge.
The sun set and we were still on the Intracoastal Waterway 7 miles short of our destination- Fort Frederica.
At 6:15 we tried to turn at marker 229 and enter the Frederica River. We didn’t make it. We climbed a mud
bank and stopped.
It was dead low tide.
We know the time was 6:15 because when we hit, (crashed bottom) the alarm clock, along with everything
else, flew across the cockpit and the clock stopped.
Well, we powered off, made another try to enter and hit again. This time we sat until the tide came up a
ways. At 7:30 we got off and headed up the Frederica River, (only because that is the way the boat headed
when we floated free, we had intended to go to a closer anchorage instead.)
It was pitch black but we did make it the four miles and dropped the hook at last!
This is our fourth time to anchor here.
Plenty of excitement today- the kind I could do without.
I peeled approximately 300 persimmons today and pressed them for drying in the sun.
CHAPTER 6
SAINT CATHERINE’S ISLAND
The spring of 1973; cruising north:
Our first night to anchor off the northwest end of the Saint Catherine’s was like opening the door to paradise and
stepping in.
The serenity and beauty of this isolated place with its elegant and stately magnolia trees covered with their snow
white flowers fully in bloom and brightly illuminated in the afternoons fading sun added to the magic as we rowed
back to our anchored boat with a large bucket of freshly dug quahog clams for our dinner.
We were the only ones to be enjoying this lovely slice of paradise this enchanted evening.
The peace and quiet were suddenly disturbed by the loud thrashing of water just outside our open porthole as we
were enjoying an after dinner game of cards.
Jane and I quickly raced out on deck to see what could possibly be causing such a commotion.
There in the fading light of the afternoon’s sun was to our surprise a little dog frantically trying to escape the
aggressive snapping of a huge alligator. I quickly lowered a five gallon bucket we kept in the cockpit of our boat for
retrieving sea water and as I lowered it to the little dog in the water it frantically climbed inside for protection and was
next ready to join us aboard our boat. The bucket was shaking violently with the quivering of this poor little creature
that was just a half a snap away from being this alligator’s supper.
As I pulled the bucket up I could see that our little dog was really a raccoon and as he looked up at me and squarely
in the eye, he instinctively knew that coming aboard our boat wasn’t going to be his salvation.
The giant alligator soon decided that his supper would have to be found elsewhere and with a few flips of its tail was
on his way in this rapidly running tidal current.
After several minutes our little trembling friend regained his composure as we exchanged eye contact and knew that
he must make his departure for the safety of shore.
I slowly lowered the bucket and our little wild and frightened friend took one last look up at us as he made his
departure and hasty swim to shore.
Jane and I both thought that it would be a long while before this raccoon ever decided to make another river
crossing.
At the same spot the following fall Jane and I again found ourselves anchored in this lovely place.
This time the weather was less than ideal as a fall storm was terrorizing the coast and this spot became a welcome
place of refuge to anchor.
During the night several large shrimp trawlers came in to anchor for the shelter that this island provided.
The following morning we awoke to a dark and dreary day with gusts of blustery weather that sent shutters of wind
and mist trembling through our rigging and we were certainly happy to be here and not underway.
That morning as the tide began to turn the trawlers all began to walk around on their anchor rodes like big beasts
pacing as the wind overcame the slacking tidal current. We too were beginning to ride up on our anchor rode and lie
abeam to the seas. In an instant we were absolutely shocked to see that one of these 75-foot trawlers had come
down on our boat and as we shockingly looked out our porthole, the stern of one of these huge trawlers was up
against our boat so close that we couldn’t even read its whole name. It was definitely less than a foot away and we
braced for the coming impact because it was definitely too late to do anything else.
Well, a miracle must have happened because in the last split second the trawler slowly pulled away and we were
safe.
For whatever it is worth those men aboard the shrimp trawler turned out to be some wonderful gentlemen because
as soon as they got things under control they reset the anchor and came over to give us a bunch of fresh shrimp
and apologize for the anxiety they might have caused.
The next day one of the men even came down to visit in an open speedboat and invite us to make a trip up river to
Eulonia, Georgia for a sightseeing trip.
Jane and I were in for a big surprise as we wound our way up the twisting tidal river to the boat landing at Eulonia
and discovered under the giant oak trees the “Mother of All Shrimp Trawlers” under construction there. There sat
this incredible vessel that would pull twice the net capacity of the largest of all the present day shrimp trawlers. It was
to have two of these huge nets slung off of each boom and had the power of a railroad locomotive. This was to be
the clean sweep machine…the hog of all hogs.
Jane and I were absolutely amazed that this concept was actually becoming a reality and even contemplated what
could possibly be coming next in this industry.
We read all of the commercial fishing industry magazines and we waited for some announcement of the success of
the “Mother of All Shrimp Trawlers” but we never heard another word and assumed that this vessel though
conceptually terrific, practically it was just too much to handle and was abandoned quietly.
Beachcombing Saint Catherine’s Island
These Sea Islands were all very different because of the influence of the owners, their development or lack of it,
residents if any and also their access to the mainland.
Many of these islands were owned by very rich people from New England that commandeered the islands as their
private sanctuaries and Saint Catherine’s was no exception.
When we were exploring in this part of the world the island was in the hands of some foundation that had an
overseer and public access was not encouraged.
The foundation had imported a strange collection of large animals from Africa that were free to roam the island and
many times we would see these huge creatures resembling water buffalo or oxen that we were not familiar with
roaming the beach.
We enjoyed this place especially for the fact that we had never seen another person on the island and it was as if it
were our own private island.
Well, one day while on the beach we were approached and told to vacate the place and we then replied that we had
every right to walk the beaches as far as the high water mark and were left alone after that.
In our walking of the beaches we were surprised to find the largest marijuana patch we had ever seen and figured
that this was the reason that the general public was not encouraged to explore the place.
These islands because of their remote locations and lack of residents encouraged lots of outlaw activity over the
years.
The pirates found refuge here, the confederate raiders out foxed the Union Navy and even in World War II the
German U-boats slipped in to pick up provisions that were supplied by sympathizers. The hatred of the United States
still is strong in most of these backwater outposts where the beer bottle busting “Bubbas” waving their stars and
bars flag can’t seem to bury the hatchet after a century and a half since the Civil War.
We heard of similar stories in Ireland where the locals went out of their way to help the Nazis during World War II
because of the oppression that the English had put upon them. The Irish figured that anyone that was an enemy of
the British couldn’t be all bad.
McIntosh County, Georgia, a brief history:
First I should say that over the years Jane and I came back to this intriguing end of the world many times and even
contemplated the purchase of real estate there. We have walked all the beaches, boated all of the rivers, drove up
and down the backroads and even did a great deal of bicycling throughout McIntosh County. We made some
friends, ate at every restaurant along highway 17 and subscribed to the Darien newspaper looking for possible
places to buy and pick up on the local community scuttlebutt.
Darien, the county seat of McIntosh County was the first English settlement of coastal Georgia.
In 1721 South Carolina claimed the coast down to 29 degrees north latitude, just south of the Spanish stronghold of
Saint Augustine, Florida.
General James E. Oglethorpe founded the new Georgia colony at Savannah in 1733. He ordered a military
contingency of 177 Scottish Highlanders to establish a settlement at the mouth of the Altamaha River and after
traveling down the inland waterway by boat, the Highlanders landed at Barnwell’s Bluff on the sight of Fort King
George now present day McIntosh County at Darien, Georgia
In the summer of 1736, Oglethorpe laid out the town of Darien. The little town became a stopover point on the state
route between Savannah and Saint Marys, Georgia.
Over the years cotton from upstate plantations was floated down the Altamaha River to Darien for transshipment to
the European markets. Darien was becoming a cotton exporting center of significance, rivaling Savannah.
By the 1820s funds in the Bank of Darien were reaching huge proportions when Darien was at the height of its
commercial prosperity.
In 1864 in General Sherman’s path during his “march to the sea”, McIntosh County suffered deprivation of the Civil
War as the town of Darien was destroyed as a result of the “total war” tactics of a renegade Union field officer. The
greatest act of destruction by the Federals was in the little town of Darien. All that was left standing were the thick
walls of the two-story warehouse building.
Darien began rebuilding after the war, first was the timber business, which lasted until 1914.
In 1890 the Darien Short Line Railroad began, up until that time Darien had been totally dependent on water
transportation.
In 1919 when the railroad went through bankruptcy, a group purchased the assets that included bridges and trestles
and constructed a highway that was completed by 1921 and connected Darien with Brunswick.
Rice plantations: the great watershed of the Altamaha River delta between Darien and Glenn County to the south
made possible the development of prosperous plantations. The rice industry in McIntosh County was in its prime in
the 1850s with 2,800 slaves being utilized by the Altamaha valley rice planters. There were 117 plantations and
farms in McIntosh County.
In antebellum plantation days McIntosh County plantations had fleets of small boats to communicate with each other
because this was a world without roads or bridges. The many rivers, sounds and bays made up the trade routes and
provided for relatively easy passage when the strong tidal currents were used to advantage.
Darien’s decline began in the 1830s. Only the ports of Charleston and Savannah exceeded exports of cotton, rice
and lumber from Darien.
Darien went down because of two factors; there was a bank panic in 1837 and the development of railroads all of
which bypassed Darien. By the 1840s all of the cotton from Georgia’s interior was being shipped by railroad directly
to Savannah for export.
In 1842 the bank closed and with the declining shipments of cotton Darien’s economic fortunes plummeted and
never returned.
Sapelo Island
Sapelo Island on the coast in central McIntosh County has a history going back to 1790 when a Frenchmen
acquired ownership. Several years later a Danish sea captain acquired much of it and held it until 1802 when
Thomas Spalding from Saint Simons Island acquired 4,000 acres and made the island a real income producing
enterprise. This was the first and only time that the island plantation ever was income producing and that lasted until
1851 with Spalding’s death.
Spalding was the most resourceful and innovative planter in the Deep South. He also had properties on the Sea
Islands at Creighton and Black Island.
Big names came to the area with Howard Coffin of the Hudson Motor Car Company of Detroit, Michigan and R. J.
Reynolds, the “Tobacco King”.
Coffin was taken in by the beauty and tranquility of Sapelo Island and purchased most of the island by 1912.
When the 1929 depression caused Coffin to suffer financial liquidity problems he sold
Sapelo Island to R.J. Reynolds and managed to keep his resort venture on Sea Island.
R.J. Reynolds owned Sapelo Island until his death in 1964.
Our dear friend A. Lance Burn from Daufuskie Island had been an employee of Mr. R.J. Reynolds and had done
various jobs pertaining to Sapelo Island including captaining a tugboat that transported barge loads of provisions
out to the island. (I have a short but amusing story about one of Mr. Burn’s tug boat adventures in volume 1, chapter
10 of Travels of Dursmirg).
Reynolds estate left his holdings on the island to the Sapelo Island Research Foundation. The Georgia Department
of Natural Resources supervises the island, which has been open for public day tours since 1977.
Jane and I have taken that day tour and highly recommend it as an out of the way and off the beaten track
adventure that is a one of a kind and shouldn’t be missed. You will have to first go to Darien to make a reservation.
Sapelo Island dock and the ferry shuttle boat for the day tour arriving.
Excursion bus for the Sapelo Island day tour
One of the many stately buildings on the R.J. Reynolds plantation at Sapelo Island
Oh, by the way!
For more insight into McIntosh County, I recommend that you read the book Praying for Sheetrock by Melissa Fay
Greene. This story cuts directly to the behind the scenes of the politics that made McIntosh County into a national
scandal with its blatant and well organized corruption that managed to put the blood of the crimes on just about
everybody’s hands. Descended from the pirates that roamed the coast and called this place home over the
centuries, McIntosh County’s political machinery proved to be a snake in the grass with a new frontier to plunder.
Interstate highway 95 that ran through McIntosh County from New England to booming Florida proved to be a gold
mine filled with a continuous flow of speeders to shake down and huge tractor-trailer loads of merchandise to
plunder.
The white dude sheriff who ran McIntosh County was named Tom Poppel and his allies were the county and
municipal governments of Darien and McIntosh County.
People from the gambling, prostitution, and drug community shared their wealth with Poppel in exchange for
protection from the law.
This upset the governmental outsiders like the FBI, DEA and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. They never
managed to catch Poppel who died unindicted.
As he said, “I seen my opportunities and I took `em”.
Truckers carrying goods from New York to Miami that had the misfortune of being stopped in McIntosh County and
going off the road were like ships lured onto the beach by the pirates of old that moved the lighted markers then
plundered their pray.
For what ever reason the trucks became stopped, the next step would be for the sheriff to alert his people to move
in and lighten the truckers’ load.
Sheriff Poppel was an equal opportunity man that allowed the county blacks their opportunity to get in on the spoils
to rob the trucks thus spreading the cupidity to everyone’s hands. With other sources of illicit enrichment the
blacks were cheated. Only well placed white allies of the Sheriff got in on the spoils from drug dealers, gamblers and
the white-slavers. Vice was where the big money was, not robbing trucks.
Activism grew to the point that a black man named Alston was elected to local government but soon caved in to
political apathy and greed and was sent to prison on a “sting” operation designed to clean up the blatant corruption
of McIntosh County.
So, dear reader for the rest of the story read this book written by a local, Melissa Fay Green.
***
Earlier I had mentioned that Jane and I were becoming very familiar with the area and some of the locals.
Here is an account of our experience we had with a local businessman from Darien. Bill had a real-estate sales
business with his office situated on the main street in downtown Darien.
Jane and I, besides roaming the back roads and waterways of the county in looking for property to purchase also
checked the county records at the courthouse.
This is when we got acquainted with Bill. Bill was friendly, helpful and knowledgeable about the area and we made
many contacts in his office and also by phone.
We let him know that we were looking for waterfront property and would consider or even prefer something that we
could either renovate or rebuild by ourselves.
Jane and I got our hopes up several times and even got to the point of designing several different structures for
various properties we liked and considered.
Well, we never did complete a deal and Jane and I always figured that if we were going to find what we really liked
and wanted we would instinctively close the deal with expedience.
Though Bill was a southerner he was not from McIntosh County and thus would be forever an outsider.
He drove a VW van for starters and that set him apart from the North Florida-South Georgia Ford pickup truck crowd.
To put the point across, one day when Bill’s VW van stalled south of town on highway 17 some of the locals put the
torch to it and then to drive the point home more explicitly they spray painted the side of the van with the words,
“BUY AMERICAN!”
Jane and I loved the waterways of McIntosh County and the Sea Islands were terrific but we could not come to grips
with the hate monger mentality that was bred into these people so we just moved on and figured that you never
know when someone is doing you a favor!
next
CHAPTER 4 Cumberland Island
Our first encounter;
One Sunday while we had our boat anchored across from Fernandina Beach, Florida waiting to put it on a marine
railway at Rawl’s Boatyard, we ventured across the river and downstream to Cumberland Island to beachcomb and
explore.
With our dinghy and its ten-horse power motor that I had tuned to go fast, we breezed along rapidly like a
hydroplane and made the trip in minutes.
Dursmirg’s Bingy Dinghy at full speed skimming the waters of the Sea Islands.
Cumberland Island is the longest of the Georgia Sea Islands and most southerly. It has an interesting history,
which I will describe later.
We arrived at low tide and pulled our dinghy high up on the beach. We had just set foot on the island and two gorilla
sized men came running out of the bushes and instantly asked us our business there. My reply was that, “we came
to beach comb and explore”. Their reply was, “no-good, not possible, must leave at once”.
There was no arguing with those two and we were on our way. We later learned that Richard Nixon was visiting for
the weekend at a resort named Grayfield Inn and his security people were doing their job. At the same time Richard
Nixon had a home on Biscayne Key near Miami and the security was so intense there that boats couldn’t get within
two miles of the shore without being turned back by air and sea security forces.
A BRIEF HISTORY ABOUT CUMBERLAND ISLAND, GEORGIA AS WE SAW IT:
Cumberland Island was called (Tacatacoru) by the local Indians; the Spanish came and called it San Pedro and the
English under Oglethorpe called it Cumberland after Duke William Augustus Cumberland.
Not until the well moneyed Thomas Carnegie appeared on the island in the 1880s did any perceptible change take
place.
This low windswept well isolated barrier island, that was 18 miles long and 3 wide is separated from the mainland on
the north by Saint Andrews Sound, the south by the Saint Marys River that also forms the border with Florida and to
the west by the vast sprawling marshes of Camden County, Georgia. The east side of the island on the Atlantic
Ocean has a hard packed sand beach equaling Daytona’s in size, but without traffic.
With a six-foot tidal range the beach at low tide is like a smooth paved superhighway that Jane and I have bicycled
from end to end several times enjoying the unprecedented solitude. All along this beach is flanked by huge ever
shifting wind driven sand dunes that inadvertently cover the low wind twisted and knurled oak and cedar trees.
The road from the Grayfield Inn up and over the sand dunes to the Atlantic beach.
This is a view at the top of the dunes looking north from the point where the Grayfield Inn road crosses
the island. Note the trees buried by the shifting wind driven sands.
Jane and I came to know this strange and interesting place when our friends Steve and Lum Brown took a summer
job at the Grayfield Inn owned by Lucy R. Ferguson who was part of the prestigious and very wealthy Carnegie
family. Grayfield Inn was built in 1900 on this largest of all the Sea Islands, Cumberland Island. From what I have
been told, the very rich industrialist Thomas Carnegie’s daughter Margaret Ricketson had a daughter who was then
the owner of Grayfield Inn, Lucy R. Ferguson.
Our friends Steve and Lum lived aboard their 25 foot wooden sailboat named Sea Dog which they anchored off the
Ferguson dock in the protected waters on the west side of the island. We had gotten to know Steve and Lum our
first winter in Saint Augustine and had also rendezvoused with them several times over the years in Fernandina and
Savannah.
Lucy R. Ferguson’s, grandson Metty was the captain of the island ferry boat which belonged to the Grayfield Inn.
Metty Ferguson took the ferry to Fernandina Beach, Florida every day to pick up clients for the Inn and also to
transport cargo and vehicles to and from the island. This is where Metty met our friends, Steve and Lum Brown, at a
coffee shop on the main street of Fernandina. Steve and Lum spent a good deal of time in the coffee shop enjoying
their favorite drink of iced coffee.
So this is how Jane and I got to know the Ferguson family and also this lovely island. We were invited to visit
Cumberland Island and then anchored our Dursmirg along with Steve and Lum’s boat near to the Ferguson
ferryboat landing at Grayfield Inn.
Lucy R. Ferguson signed our logbook aboard our boat Dursmirg October 12th 1975 and we could tell that although
she was well up in years that she still had that special sparkle in her eye as she sprightly sprung up and aboard our
boat. We got a special feeling that she would have loved to have pulled our anchor and disembarked to anyplace
that needed exploring that very moment and not looked back.
For Lucy who had known the Carnegie fortune and all of its privileges she chose Cumberland Island and the
Grayfield Inn for her golden years. She was a real take charge type of person and loved to ask questions of our
travels and adventures at the same time administering to the Inn’s multitude of operations. When things got too
hectic Lucy would make the announcement that she was “going off the air” and then just turn her hearing aid off. We
loved this gem of a person and her sprightly spirit just rubbed off on everyone around her.
Lucy R. Ferguson’s Grayfield Inn on Cumberland Island on the west side overlooking the river and
marshes of Camden County, Georgia.
The Carnegie family like many of the richest of New England families in their economic circles from the boom times
of the American industrial expansion of the 1800s came south to commandeer these islands and create their own
private kingdoms.
Thomas Carnegie built the Dungeness mansion and a whole community of support buildings including a furniture
factory that even made all of the furnishings, doors and windows of elegant quality to supply their new private island
kingdom.
The name Dungeness was borrowed from a hunting lodge built on the south end of the island that the English
colonizer James Oglethorpe had constructed when this was a British colony. Oglethorpe named the island after
William Augustus Cumberland from Kent in England whose estate there was named Dungeness.
In 1959 one of the caretakers at the Dungeness mansion shot a poacher who then escaped. The following week the
Dungeness yacht was sunk and the mansion set ablaze. This was clearly a case of “river rat’s rage and revenge”.
No charges were ever brought against the poacher and the case was closed.
The Dungeness mansion was never rebuilt and only left for nature and time to pull it down. This was enough and the
estate was put on the market.
Ten years later, in 1969, a land developer named Charles Frazer purchased the estate.
Charles Frazer had begun to develop Hilton Head Island in South Carolina that he had purchased from one of New
England’s wealthiest industrialists named Alfred Lee Loomis. Loomis was a Wall Street financial wizard who saw the
1929 stock market crash coming and pulled his enormous holdings off the market at its peak. Famous for his private
scientific research laboratories at Tuxedo Park in New York, Loomis spearheaded major breakthroughs in radar and
nuclear fusion that put the US ahead of Japan and Germany during WWII.
Alfred Loomis bought up Hilton Head Island parcel by parcel at absurdly low prices and the island became his
private kingdom. (Read the book: Tuxedo Park)
When Loomis sold out his land on Hilton Head Island he cut Charles Frazer a fabulous deal on the largest portion of
the island.
Frazer then began to develop the island and sold off parcels of land. (Alfred Loomis then told Frazer that he was
crazy for selling out so cheaply.)
By the 1970s Frazer was riding high on his cash flow and spending like there was no end in sight.
In 1969 Charles Frazer purchased a large tract of land on Cumberland Island from the Carnegie estate and had
plans to develop it.
The economic turndown of the early 1970s put an economic pinch on Frazer and at one point his heavily mortgaged
holdings went into receivership including his fancy yachts.
With some fancy footwork and financial manipulations Charles Frazer did whatever he had to in order to salvage his
sinking ship.
Because of the extremely depressed real state market buyers were just about nonexistent except for one. The
federal government had deep pockets and Charles Frazer cooked up a deal to establish a national park with his
land that had turned into some kind of a white elephant for him.
This didn’t just happen; as there was extreme opposition to his plan as Jane and I were about to witness. The
federal government had already sent out their scouts to sniff out the deal and they were very conspicuous driving
around the island in their two tone green pickup trucks sporting large emblems on the front doors with the federal
governments round, brown seal.
One Sunday afternoon our friends, Steve and Lum Brown, took us to an islander’s get-to-gether at a private home
on the north end of the island owned by a young feisty lawyer from Jacksonville, Florida.
There in the driveway was one of these two-tone green pickup trucks with the big brown federal government seals.
Upon closer scrutiny the spoof was there to see, the look-alike emblem distinctively displayed the words, “EMINENT
DOMAIN” and the truck belonged to the young lawyer from Jacksonville whose home we were visiting.
Once the wheels were in motion there was just no stopping the governments imperceptibly slow forward motion and
the Cumberland Island National Seashore became reality.
The most prestigious of these palaces that was put up by the Carnegie family, who incidentally owned
90% of the island, was the Dungeness mansion pictured above.
Our photo of the ruins of the Dungeness mansion taken in the 1970s
Oh, by the way!
This is an interesting story about our beachcombing on one of those spoil islands near to Cumberland Island.
After anchoring our boat Dursmirg well off the Intracoastal Waterway, we ventured in our dinghy to one of these
spoil islands adjacent to where the King’s Bay channel had been dredged. We had the whole world to ourselves this
lovely spring evening, or so it seemed. The tranquility was extra special this evening as we were far removed from
the sights and sounds of any other civilization.
Dursmirg anchored near Cumberland Island.
As Jane and I strolled along the beach unearthing many fossilized treasures, a raccoon charged out of the bushes
and attacked Jane and clung to her leg and wouldn’t let go. Jane screamed with fright!
Then we got another surprise when our friends Gary and Penny Kubchek appeared. It turned out the raccoon was
their pet and they had just arrived in their dinghy from Fernandina Beach to spend the evening searching for shark’
s teeth. We were very happy to see them and learn that the raccoon did indeed belong to them and was not some
wild rabid creature on the attack.
We invited them to visit us on our boat after they were done beachcombing and they accepted.
It was a lovely evening and we had left our boat wide open to take advantage of the cool and fresh sea breezes.
Gary and Penny said that they would leave their pet raccoon in their dinghy so that their pet’s inquisitive nosing
wouldn’t disturb our belongings or us.
We enjoyed some of Jane’s homemade wine and shared many a story because we had been acquainted with Gary
and Penny for several years and had had our boat at Rawl’s Boatyard in Fernandina alongside theirs two years in a
row. We knew many of the same people because the boating community was just like a special fraternity of
likeminded individuals
Well, a few minutes passed and surprise! We had a visitor standing inquisitively in our companionway; it was this
cute little raccoon with his “bandito” mask.
We were all surprised and curious as to how this little bugger had managed to get aboard our boat. Upon
inspection, we discovered that the raccoon had managed to pull Gary’s dinghy up to our boat by tugging on the
painter line until the two boats were close enough and then he merely jumped aboard our boat.
Gary had the solution to that problem this time and returned the raccoon to his dinghy and then he paid out over
one hundred feet of line and secured his dinghy. In this fast running tidal current the little raccoon would find it
physically impossible to lift that much line. So, we confidently returned to our conversation and wine sampling
knowing that the raccoon would have to wait in the dinghy.
Oh, my God! There that little bugger was again! This time he was dripping wet but his “smirky” look of satisfaction
was unmistakable.
Now we had to figure just how this ingenious little critter managed to get aboard our boat. We knew that it would be
impossible to climb up the sides because there was absolutely nothing a swimmer could have grasped from the
water.
Upon close scrutiny we found the wet paw prints leading from our bow. Then the mystery began to unfurl. Evidently
after becoming exasperated trying to pull Gary’s dinghy forward, the little critter just swam forward to our boat.
Attempted to board and then swam all the way around to the bow of our boat where it spotted the anchor line
leading from the water up to the bow of our boat. There was his route. It swam to the anchor line and then hand over
hand, (I should say paw over paw), made his way up to the boat…this time very wet.
CHAPTER 5
GLYNN COUNTY, SAINT SIMONS ISLAND AND FORT FREDRICA
***
In the heartland and at the center of the Sea Islands is located Glynn County, a special and very unique place.
When Jane and I first sailed our Dursmirg south down the coast through the Sea Islands in the fall of 1972 we
witnessed the Sidney Lanier Bridge that had just days before been plummeted into the river below on November 7th,
a result of a collision with the sea going vessel SS African Neptune.
We had heard a terrifying story of the automobiles parked on the bridge and waiting for it to close so that they could
proceed. Two young men seeing the imminent and impending collision situation approaching frantically ran to notify
all the other persons waiting there but none would respond and they even rolled up their car windows and motioned
the young men away.
Our getting to know and love Glenn County didn’t come until the following year when we had the time and we could
go slow, stop and explore.
To us it was a wondrous water world of interesting and fascinating islands separated by big sounds and rivers. The
extensive salt marshes extending far off almost endlessly were like looking out across the Dakota prairies. These
isolated Sea Islands are separated from the mainland that is so distantly removed.
The feelings that are inspired by this natural beauty give the beholder a reverence for the magical words that
Sidney Lanier so eloquently put down in his epic poem the Marshes of Glenn back in the 1870s. Sidney Lanier was
only 28 years old when he visited Glenn County and was inspired to write his masterpiece that has given him his
time tested following.
In the south of Glenn County, Jekyll Island holds a quiet elegance of residential prominence where the Morgan’s,
Astor’s, Pulitzers and Rockefellers established their island kingdom in the era of the American industrial
expansionism.
Jekyll Island also has a state park with fishing pier and large camping facilities nestled in the native coastal forest
that tends to be booked to capacity throughout the spring, summer and fall.
At the northern end of the Sea Islands in Glenn County is another jewel, Saint Simons Island where Jane and I have
visited numerous times over the years; first with our boat Dursmirg and then later many visits by road.
Saint Simons Island is where James Edward Oglethorpe established Fort Frederica back in 1736 along with a
settlement as an outpost to give the British a deterrent to the Spanish and French who were also staking claim to as
much New World land as their imperialistic leaders could grab.
Fort Frederica is now in a state of ruins but the National Park Service maintains the site as a national monument
open to the public.
The beautiful grounds are definitely worth a visit and it is especially delightful if you can come by boat as we first did.
The fall of the year makes for the very best season of all when the multitude of pecan trees are hanging heavy with
nuts, the elderberries are in season and the quiet hush of autumn casts its magical spell over the gigantic oak trees.
The American naval vessel Old Ironsides was constructed from the wood cut from this island using the natural bend
of the oak trees to form its ribs and planking.
I would recommend a bicycle tour through the winding roads of the island in spring or preferably in fall to witness the
huge oak trees draped in their mystical Spanish moss that will give a hauntingly memorable and uplifting
remembrance well worth the effort.
Then I recommend reading Eugenia Price’s priceless books about the area in days gone by. These books were
done in a trilogy: Lighthouse, volume 1, New Moon Rising, volume 2 and Beloved Invader, volume 3. When you have
finished these mesmerizing books you will find it compelling to visit this area, and if you haven’t done so you will
certainly be drawn there.
On the north end of the island is located the ritzy and very elegant “Cloister Hotel” built back in the 1920s by the
motor car multimillionaire Howard Coffin, it lends the neighborhood a touch of class.
These lovely Sea Islands are connected to the mainland by bridge and very long causeways across the “Marshes of
Glenn” from the city of Brunswick.
The city of Brunswick is a strange mix of seaport, industrial activity and residential that claims to have 36 buildings
still standing that are pre-1819. The city isn’t all old elegant homes and has still got the “poo-folks” with their humble
little unpainted wooden abodes.
The busy harbor has a large commercial shrimping fleet along with heavy traffic from sea-going freighters. Rail and
trucking tie and unite the shipping from land to sea.
The industry that feeds the seaport is mostly linked to the forestry products produced and processed in industrial
Brunswick.
From pine stumps and poles, this industry ships out among other things, turpentine, charcoal and even nitro
cellulose. It would be possible to get around this odiferous town with a scratch and sniff map. I found that I kind of
liked these aromas and scents of the wood related processing plants.
Hercules Inc. with its “etherification”, “hydrogenation” and “polymerization” can and does turn forestry products into
some of the strangest but most useful products imaginable; chewing gum, artificial flavors, cosmetics and even
cleaners are but a few of the end products to come out of these curious facilities.
The company, Brunswick Wood Treating, BWP, pressure treats wooden pine poles with “CCA” or cromated copper
arsenate and also “PCP” or pentachlorophenol that renders this wood totally impervious to any and all living things.
The above-mentioned facilities are but a few of the myriad of industrial facilities in the Brunswick area.
This coastal Sea Island area has for some reason attracted a strange and interesting conglomeration of processing
facilities and one of notorious repute is the facility south of Brunswick at the city of Woodbine, Georgia named Union
Carbide.
In 1984 the Union Carbides facility at Bopal, India accidentally spilled 40 tons of methyl isocyanate and hydrogen
cyanide exposing 500,000 people to the noxious chemicals. 2,000 died and there were 300,000 permanent injuries
as a result of this catastrophic catastrophe. Of course, the company promptly closed the offending plant in Bopal,
India and then moved their production to quiet and isolated little Woodbine, Georgia.
***
A letter than Jane wrote to her folks:
1975 September 23
Sea Islands, Saint Simons;
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel,
I tried calling today to have you send the mail but had no luck. It is a five mile bicycle ride to the nearest
phone so I am sending a letter instead as there are bad rainstorms headed this way due to hurricane Eloise
so we won’t get to the phone again tonight. We are anchored at Fort Frederica National Park on Saint
Simons Island, Georgia.
Will you please bundle up all of our first class mail in one package and forward it to us here. Don’t send any
parcel post packages, as they take too long. If you send more than one package please send me a letter and
let me know.
Send to us %General Delivery
Saint Simons Island, Georgia 31522
I’ve only got 4 quilt squares left to do but I’ll wait until we get to Saint Augustine to have you send the rest.
I suppose you are busy digging potatoes about now. How is the weather? It is hot here but windy. I’ll write a
letter in a few days when I have more time.
Love Jane and Bing
P.S. I mailed some pictures for prints to Rex Photos for prints today. When they come % Eunice Pearson
keep the prints and send the slides when I call for mail again.
***
1975 October 2nd
Sea Islands, Saint Simons;
A letter that Jane wrote to her Folks;
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel,
We got the mail on Monday, September 29th. Thank you so much for sending it.
We are still at Saint Simons Island but will be leaving very soon. We will be going on the marine railway in
Fernandina during the week of October 12th. We were going to leave here Tuesday but a hurricane was
bearing in on the Atlantic so we decided to stay here. Since then hurricane Gladys has moved away from the
U. S. Tuesday we have been busy painting all the steel on the boat plus the white sides.
We didn’t get anything but one short rain shower and a little wind from Eloise. I hope we don’t get anymore
than that from anymore this year.
Thanks for sending the pictures. I wasn’t too good at centering the picture. The picture of Dad, with the
garage in the background was supposed to have both of you in it. You can keep the negatives.
I’ve got another batch of pictures coming to you, of that all I want is the photo of Marge and I and the slides.
The rest are for your album. If you have an extra envelope from Rex Photo could you send one to me?
The next place I will have you send mail to is Saint Augustine, but I’ll write from Fernandina and let you
know when.
I’m glad the wines turned out good. I haven’t made up raspberry yet, but I will as soon as my elderberry gets
done.
I just made another pecan pie. Bing loves them so it’s the fourth one I’ve made since we got to Saint Simons.
The grounds at Fort Frederica are covered with pecan trees.
I’ll write again from Fernandina Beach. I’m sending back my extra pins…I’m done with my quilt squares.
How is Grandma doing? How did the trip to Percival Mine and Clevedon go?
Love Jane and Bing
***
In our wanderings of Saint Simons Island and especially around the grounds of Fort Frederica National Monument
we couldn’t resist the abundance of pecans that were so overly copious that their quantity overwhelmed even the
multitudes of squirrels. Jane and I had no problem harvesting enough of them to keep us in pecan pies and other
baked goods until we got to south Florida that fall.
Elderberries were profuse enough to perpetuate Jane’s wine production and that dark red heavy bodied wine turned
out to be one of our all-time favorites. To this day we are still in production and even have several of those prolific
elderberry bushes at our home in our tropical garden here in Mérida, Yucatán, Mexico.
One fall day as we were harvesting some elderberries one of the park rangers came by and had to ask us what it
was that we were picking. We told him and then he said to be sure to leave some for the birds and squirrels. We
were surprised that here was someone obviously on the federal payroll being compensated to oversee this naturally
wooded park area that had absolutely no idea what he was there to oversee…we did notice that he also couldn’t be
bothered to step out of his vehicle.
***
(Note; in another year on one of our return trips from Daufuskie Island heading south Jane made the following notes
in our logbook )
From a note that Jane wrote:
1974 November 3rd Sunday (Daufuskie Island-heading south)
Sea Islands
We left our anchorage at Papy’s Landing, Daufuskie Island, South Carolina at 7:10 AM. We dropped anchor
again at 15:45 at Walberg Creek, Saint Catherine’s Island, Georgia. We went looking for clams and got 50,
(plenty for supper), in just a few minutes.
We saw what we thought were fish along the shore, Bing got the cast net and went after them. He took the
wrong net, they turned out to be shrimp jumping.
After he got back we took a bath in the cockpit.
It was a real warm sunny day, 80 degrees.
November 4, 1974, Monday;
Would have been a good day to stay in bed. Got up at 6:30, we were socked in the fog so thick that we
couldn’t see either bank. Fog lifted at 9:40 and we were on our way. Progress was slow- current against us
at every turn.
Met five yachts, two that made our “shit-list”: Penthouse II from Montreal and My Sin of Delaware. They left
huge wakes, (mountainous waves). Also saw 3 sailboats and a barge.
The sun set and we were still on the Intracoastal Waterway 7 miles short of our destination- Fort Frederica.
At 6:15 we tried to turn at marker 229 and enter the Frederica River. We didn’t make it. We climbed a mud
bank and stopped.
It was dead low tide.
We know the time was 6:15 because when we hit, (crashed bottom) the alarm clock, along with everything
else, flew across the cockpit and the clock stopped.
Well, we powered off, made another try to enter and hit again. This time we sat until the tide came up a
ways. At 7:30 we got off and headed up the Frederica River, (only because that is the way the boat headed
when we floated free, we had intended to go to a closer anchorage instead.)
It was pitch black but we did make it the four miles and dropped the hook at last!
This is our fourth time to anchor here.
Plenty of excitement today- the kind I could do without.
I peeled approximately 300 persimmons today and pressed them for drying in the sun.
CHAPTER 6
SAINT CATHERINE’S ISLAND
The spring of 1973; cruising north:
Our first night to anchor off the northwest end of the Saint Catherine’s was like opening the door to paradise and
stepping in.
The serenity and beauty of this isolated place with its elegant and stately magnolia trees covered with their snow
white flowers fully in bloom and brightly illuminated in the afternoons fading sun added to the magic as we rowed
back to our anchored boat with a large bucket of freshly dug quahog clams for our dinner.
We were the only ones to be enjoying this lovely slice of paradise this enchanted evening.
The peace and quiet were suddenly disturbed by the loud thrashing of water just outside our open porthole as we
were enjoying an after dinner game of cards.
Jane and I quickly raced out on deck to see what could possibly be causing such a commotion.
There in the fading light of the afternoon’s sun was to our surprise a little dog frantically trying to escape the
aggressive snapping of a huge alligator. I quickly lowered a five gallon bucket we kept in the cockpit of our boat for
retrieving sea water and as I lowered it to the little dog in the water it frantically climbed inside for protection and was
next ready to join us aboard our boat. The bucket was shaking violently with the quivering of this poor little creature
that was just a half a snap away from being this alligator’s supper.
As I pulled the bucket up I could see that our little dog was really a raccoon and as he looked up at me and squarely
in the eye, he instinctively knew that coming aboard our boat wasn’t going to be his salvation.
The giant alligator soon decided that his supper would have to be found elsewhere and with a few flips of its tail was
on his way in this rapidly running tidal current.
After several minutes our little trembling friend regained his composure as we exchanged eye contact and knew that
he must make his departure for the safety of shore.
I slowly lowered the bucket and our little wild and frightened friend took one last look up at us as he made his
departure and hasty swim to shore.
Jane and I both thought that it would be a long while before this raccoon ever decided to make another river
crossing.
At the same spot the following fall Jane and I again found ourselves anchored in this lovely place.
This time the weather was less than ideal as a fall storm was terrorizing the coast and this spot became a welcome
place of refuge to anchor.
During the night several large shrimp trawlers came in to anchor for the shelter that this island provided.
The following morning we awoke to a dark and dreary day with gusts of blustery weather that sent shutters of wind
and mist trembling through our rigging and we were certainly happy to be here and not underway.
That morning as the tide began to turn the trawlers all began to walk around on their anchor rodes like big beasts
pacing as the wind overcame the slacking tidal current. We too were beginning to ride up on our anchor rode and lie
abeam to the seas. In an instant we were absolutely shocked to see that one of these 75-foot trawlers had come
down on our boat and as we shockingly looked out our porthole, the stern of one of these huge trawlers was up
against our boat so close that we couldn’t even read its whole name. It was definitely less than a foot away and we
braced for the coming impact because it was definitely too late to do anything else.
Well, a miracle must have happened because in the last split second the trawler slowly pulled away and we were
safe.
For whatever it is worth those men aboard the shrimp trawler turned out to be some wonderful gentlemen because
as soon as they got things under control they reset the anchor and came over to give us a bunch of fresh shrimp
and apologize for the anxiety they might have caused.
The next day one of the men even came down to visit in an open speedboat and invite us to make a trip up river to
Eulonia, Georgia for a sightseeing trip.
Jane and I were in for a big surprise as we wound our way up the twisting tidal river to the boat landing at Eulonia
and discovered under the giant oak trees the “Mother of All Shrimp Trawlers” under construction there. There sat
this incredible vessel that would pull twice the net capacity of the largest of all the present day shrimp trawlers. It was
to have two of these huge nets slung off of each boom and had the power of a railroad locomotive. This was to be
the clean sweep machine…the hog of all hogs.
Jane and I were absolutely amazed that this concept was actually becoming a reality and even contemplated what
could possibly be coming next in this industry.
We read all of the commercial fishing industry magazines and we waited for some announcement of the success of
the “Mother of All Shrimp Trawlers” but we never heard another word and assumed that this vessel though
conceptually terrific, practically it was just too much to handle and was abandoned quietly.
Beachcombing Saint Catherine’s Island
These Sea Islands were all very different because of the influence of the owners, their development or lack of it,
residents if any and also their access to the mainland.
Many of these islands were owned by very rich people from New England that commandeered the islands as their
private sanctuaries and Saint Catherine’s was no exception.
When we were exploring in this part of the world the island was in the hands of some foundation that had an
overseer and public access was not encouraged.
The foundation had imported a strange collection of large animals from Africa that were free to roam the island and
many times we would see these huge creatures resembling water buffalo or oxen that we were not familiar with
roaming the beach.
We enjoyed this place especially for the fact that we had never seen another person on the island and it was as if it
were our own private island.
Well, one day while on the beach we were approached and told to vacate the place and we then replied that we had
every right to walk the beaches as far as the high water mark and were left alone after that.
In our walking of the beaches we were surprised to find the largest marijuana patch we had ever seen and figured
that this was the reason that the general public was not encouraged to explore the place.
These islands because of their remote locations and lack of residents encouraged lots of outlaw activity over the
years.
The pirates found refuge here, the confederate raiders out foxed the Union Navy and even in World War II the
German U-boats slipped in to pick up provisions that were supplied by sympathizers. The hatred of the United States
still is strong in most of these backwater outposts where the beer bottle busting “Bubbas” waving their stars and
bars flag can’t seem to bury the hatchet after a century and a half since the Civil War.
We heard of similar stories in Ireland where the locals went out of their way to help the Nazis during World War II
because of the oppression that the English had put upon them. The Irish figured that anyone that was an enemy of
the British couldn’t be all bad.
McIntosh County, Georgia, a brief history:
First I should say that over the years Jane and I came back to this intriguing end of the world many times and even
contemplated the purchase of real estate there. We have walked all the beaches, boated all of the rivers, drove up
and down the backroads and even did a great deal of bicycling throughout McIntosh County. We made some
friends, ate at every restaurant along highway 17 and subscribed to the Darien newspaper looking for possible
places to buy and pick up on the local community scuttlebutt.
Darien, the county seat of McIntosh County was the first English settlement of coastal Georgia.
In 1721 South Carolina claimed the coast down to 29 degrees north latitude, just south of the Spanish stronghold of
Saint Augustine, Florida.
General James E. Oglethorpe founded the new Georgia colony at Savannah in 1733. He ordered a military
contingency of 177 Scottish Highlanders to establish a settlement at the mouth of the Altamaha River and after
traveling down the inland waterway by boat, the Highlanders landed at Barnwell’s Bluff on the sight of Fort King
George now present day McIntosh County at Darien, Georgia
In the summer of 1736, Oglethorpe laid out the town of Darien. The little town became a stopover point on the state
route between Savannah and Saint Marys, Georgia.
Over the years cotton from upstate plantations was floated down the Altamaha River to Darien for transshipment to
the European markets. Darien was becoming a cotton exporting center of significance, rivaling Savannah.
By the 1820s funds in the Bank of Darien were reaching huge proportions when Darien was at the height of its
commercial prosperity.
In 1864 in General Sherman’s path during his “march to the sea”, McIntosh County suffered deprivation of the Civil
War as the town of Darien was destroyed as a result of the “total war” tactics of a renegade Union field officer. The
greatest act of destruction by the Federals was in the little town of Darien. All that was left standing were the thick
walls of the two-story warehouse building.
Darien began rebuilding after the war, first was the timber business, which lasted until 1914.
In 1890 the Darien Short Line Railroad began, up until that time Darien had been totally dependent on water
transportation.
In 1919 when the railroad went through bankruptcy, a group purchased the assets that included bridges and trestles
and constructed a highway that was completed by 1921 and connected Darien with Brunswick.
Rice plantations: the great watershed of the Altamaha River delta between Darien and Glenn County to the south
made possible the development of prosperous plantations. The rice industry in McIntosh County was in its prime in
the 1850s with 2,800 slaves being utilized by the Altamaha valley rice planters. There were 117 plantations and
farms in McIntosh County.
In antebellum plantation days McIntosh County plantations had fleets of small boats to communicate with each other
because this was a world without roads or bridges. The many rivers, sounds and bays made up the trade routes and
provided for relatively easy passage when the strong tidal currents were used to advantage.
Darien’s decline began in the 1830s. Only the ports of Charleston and Savannah exceeded exports of cotton, rice
and lumber from Darien.
Darien went down because of two factors; there was a bank panic in 1837 and the development of railroads all of
which bypassed Darien. By the 1840s all of the cotton from Georgia’s interior was being shipped by railroad directly
to Savannah for export.
In 1842 the bank closed and with the declining shipments of cotton Darien’s economic fortunes plummeted and
never returned.
Sapelo Island
Sapelo Island on the coast in central McIntosh County has a history going back to 1790 when a Frenchmen
acquired ownership. Several years later a Danish sea captain acquired much of it and held it until 1802 when
Thomas Spalding from Saint Simons Island acquired 4,000 acres and made the island a real income producing
enterprise. This was the first and only time that the island plantation ever was income producing and that lasted until
1851 with Spalding’s death.
Spalding was the most resourceful and innovative planter in the Deep South. He also had properties on the Sea
Islands at Creighton and Black Island.
Big names came to the area with Howard Coffin of the Hudson Motor Car Company of Detroit, Michigan and R. J.
Reynolds, the “Tobacco King”.
Coffin was taken in by the beauty and tranquility of Sapelo Island and purchased most of the island by 1912.
When the 1929 depression caused Coffin to suffer financial liquidity problems he sold
Sapelo Island to R.J. Reynolds and managed to keep his resort venture on Sea Island.
R.J. Reynolds owned Sapelo Island until his death in 1964.
Our dear friend A. Lance Burn from Daufuskie Island had been an employee of Mr. R.J. Reynolds and had done
various jobs pertaining to Sapelo Island including captaining a tugboat that transported barge loads of provisions
out to the island. (I have a short but amusing story about one of Mr. Burn’s tug boat adventures in volume 1, chapter
10 of Travels of Dursmirg).
Reynolds estate left his holdings on the island to the Sapelo Island Research Foundation. The Georgia Department
of Natural Resources supervises the island, which has been open for public day tours since 1977.
Jane and I have taken that day tour and highly recommend it as an out of the way and off the beaten track
adventure that is a one of a kind and shouldn’t be missed. You will have to first go to Darien to make a reservation.
Sapelo Island dock and the ferry shuttle boat for the day tour arriving.
Excursion bus for the Sapelo Island day tour
One of the many stately buildings on the R.J. Reynolds plantation at Sapelo Island
Oh, by the way!
For more insight into McIntosh County, I recommend that you read the book Praying for Sheetrock by Melissa Fay
Greene. This story cuts directly to the behind the scenes of the politics that made McIntosh County into a national
scandal with its blatant and well organized corruption that managed to put the blood of the crimes on just about
everybody’s hands. Descended from the pirates that roamed the coast and called this place home over the
centuries, McIntosh County’s political machinery proved to be a snake in the grass with a new frontier to plunder.
Interstate highway 95 that ran through McIntosh County from New England to booming Florida proved to be a gold
mine filled with a continuous flow of speeders to shake down and huge tractor-trailer loads of merchandise to
plunder.
The white dude sheriff who ran McIntosh County was named Tom Poppel and his allies were the county and
municipal governments of Darien and McIntosh County.
People from the gambling, prostitution, and drug community shared their wealth with Poppel in exchange for
protection from the law.
This upset the governmental outsiders like the FBI, DEA and the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. They never
managed to catch Poppel who died unindicted.
As he said, “I seen my opportunities and I took `em”.
Truckers carrying goods from New York to Miami that had the misfortune of being stopped in McIntosh County and
going off the road were like ships lured onto the beach by the pirates of old that moved the lighted markers then
plundered their pray.
For what ever reason the trucks became stopped, the next step would be for the sheriff to alert his people to move
in and lighten the truckers’ load.
Sheriff Poppel was an equal opportunity man that allowed the county blacks their opportunity to get in on the spoils
to rob the trucks thus spreading the cupidity to everyone’s hands. With other sources of illicit enrichment the
blacks were cheated. Only well placed white allies of the Sheriff got in on the spoils from drug dealers, gamblers and
the white-slavers. Vice was where the big money was, not robbing trucks.
Activism grew to the point that a black man named Alston was elected to local government but soon caved in to
political apathy and greed and was sent to prison on a “sting” operation designed to clean up the blatant corruption
of McIntosh County.
So, dear reader for the rest of the story read this book written by a local, Melissa Fay Green.
***
Earlier I had mentioned that Jane and I were becoming very familiar with the area and some of the locals.
Here is an account of our experience we had with a local businessman from Darien. Bill had a real-estate sales
business with his office situated on the main street in downtown Darien.
Jane and I, besides roaming the back roads and waterways of the county in looking for property to purchase also
checked the county records at the courthouse.
This is when we got acquainted with Bill. Bill was friendly, helpful and knowledgeable about the area and we made
many contacts in his office and also by phone.
We let him know that we were looking for waterfront property and would consider or even prefer something that we
could either renovate or rebuild by ourselves.
Jane and I got our hopes up several times and even got to the point of designing several different structures for
various properties we liked and considered.
Well, we never did complete a deal and Jane and I always figured that if we were going to find what we really liked
and wanted we would instinctively close the deal with expedience.
Though Bill was a southerner he was not from McIntosh County and thus would be forever an outsider.
He drove a VW van for starters and that set him apart from the North Florida-South Georgia Ford pickup truck crowd.
To put the point across, one day when Bill’s VW van stalled south of town on highway 17 some of the locals put the
torch to it and then to drive the point home more explicitly they spray painted the side of the van with the words,
“BUY AMERICAN!”
Jane and I loved the waterways of McIntosh County and the Sea Islands were terrific but we could not come to grips
with the hate monger mentality that was bred into these people so we just moved on and figured that you never
know when someone is doing you a favor!
next
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| Chapters 4-6 |