Somewhere around Hortense, I began to wonder: “When was the last time I was on this stretch of U.S. 301 South?”
By the time I got to Raybon — home of Wayne Morgan, my friend and world-class outdoor photographer — I decided that I couldn’t remember when. But here are some of the memories that I could dial up: Auto-Train derailment
The Hortense postmaster called early one March morning. “Grab your camera and come quick,” she said. Southbound Auto-Train No. 107, transporting 298 passengers and 107 automobiles, had collided with a pulpwood truck at the rail crossing.
I was the first newsman on the scene. Vehicles and railcars — including both engines — filled the ditches. The truck driver was under a white sheet on the asphalt. Even as a greenhorn, I knew the Brantley County community was about to be in the national news.
Cell phones were nonexistent in 1973. The postmaster let me borrow the government’s phone. I called the Wayne County Press collect and asked for Troy Fore.
“Troy,” I said, “there’s been a massive train wreck in Hortense. Go to the airport and charter a plane. The best way to tell this story is from the air.”
Within 30 minutes, Troy was airborne. And within 24 hours, national news outlets were calling our tiny newspaper to purchase our photos. Somebody help me: Wasn’t Mrs. Rowell the postmaster?
The Brantley Enterprise
Along about that time, Robert Williams — my friend and publisher of The Blackshear Times — suggested, “Let’s buy The Brantley Enterprise.”
As “boy publishers,” we had already acquired the Nassau County Record in Callahan, Fla. Full of ambition, we took off to Nahunta to meet with George Stewart, owner of the newspaper.
As we say in South Georgia, our venture “ran up on a stump.” George later told Robert, “I could have probably dealt with you, but that teenager friend of yours asked too many questions.”
And the other day, when I drove past the twostory, wedge-shaped building, I couldn’t help but smile.
$4.2 million check But when I passed the Southeastern Bank, my smile broke into a laugh. Here’s the backstory.
Years later, the new owner of the Nahunta newspaper contracted with us to print The Brantley Enterprise. But in time, his unpaid press bill surpassed $4,000. We couldn’t afford to be his banker, so I called and said, “You need to bring us a cashier’s check when you come back to Jesup next week.”
And he did, without looking at the amount.
Rather than $4,200, the bank had erroneously added too many zeroes. I knew the money wasn’t ours, but I wanted to have some fun. I called the bank and asked to speak to the person whose signature was on the check.
I explained that I had received a bank check and that I would like to stop by and cash it.
“Oh, sure,” he said.
“That’s great,” I said. “But I wondered if you’d have this amount of cash available.”
“Well, we certainly should have. How much is it?”
“Four million, two hundred thousand.”
After a long pause of silence, he gasped, “Who signed that check?” “You did.”
“Oh, my Lord!” And then I laughed and said, “Relax, I knew it was a mistake. You only owe us $4,200.”
“Praise the Lord,” Mike Little sighed.
Paloma’s fine dining Some of the best meals that I have ever enjoyed were at the Paloma in Nahunta. An ambitious chef, an international newcomer, had purchased the U.S. 301 motel and restaurant.
We took carload after carload of friends there to experience the five-star cuisine. The tab for two couples might cost 30 bucks. Once, I asked our waitress what the delicious dessert was.
“Well, they call it baked Alaska. But it is really just ice cream with ‘likker’ poured on it and then set on ‘far.’” Brantley County: Great folks and unforgettable memories.
