OUR STORY

THE CHARACTERS - THE GOAT MAN

Page 109

Okefenokee Swamp. Lem, who was known as “Mr. Okefenokee” worldwide because of his frequent write-ups in the Atlanta Journal, had a fish camp there. Len always wore overalls and no shoes when he was in the camp. When we first started going to the swamp we would rent boats and cabins from Lem and eat at the small camp restaurant. Lem was a great story teller and would have you howling with laughter once he got started. His cabins were very primitive with no bathroom or running water. He had a spiel he would do as he showed you the cabin. I can’t remember it all but it went like this. Our cabins have every modern convenience you find in a fancy hotel, we have running water, all you have to do is run out to the well and draw it. We have private toilets, if you can remember to latch the outhouse door. We have portable lighting because you can move the kerosene lamp where ever you like. We have music in our rooms because you can hear the crickets and owls all night. The only thing we don’t have is a telephone, but we have something faster, it’s called tell a woman.

Lem blew his cover with me once as I was there when he got back from one of his daughters college graduation in Gainesville, Florida. Lem had on a suit and tie and dress shoes.

Once we were coming back from fishing up the Sewanee and saw Lem and some of his helpers or sons were skinning a large black bear. Lem said the fish wasn’t biting so they caught a bear instead.

The Goat Man

Yes, there was a real goat man. The Goat Man died about ten years ago in Macon, Georgia. His home (an old school bus) was about 18 miles from Macon near Jeffersonville. He spent the past several years of his life in a nursing home here in Macon. I first saw him in 1943 or 1944 in Macon. His name was Charles "Chess" McCartney and he lead a heard of goats, some of them pulling a wagon. I was working with my father on Mulberry Street when we heard the cry “the Goatman is coming, the Goatman is coming.” Everybody was running out of houses to see the sight. I remember very clearly this first sighting. There was a boy, not to much older than me following the procession. I was to find out later it was the Goatman’s son. As they past the boy kicked off his shoes and left them lying in the street. After they pasted I went out to see the shoes and saw why he had left them. They were wore completely out and I felt sorry for the boy. I was to see the Goatman many times over the next fifty years. The last time Francine and I saw him we were going to Jacksonville from Waycross. We saw someone walking toward us on a long unpopulated length of highway, as we got closer one of us said it looks like the Goatman. The last time we