“Expressing one’s concerns are allowed in a free country. Who is the tyrant here?”
He didn’t answer me but turned on his heel.
My waiter who hadn’t left the area said to me, “He is a powerful man; you should be careful.”
Not being completely stupid, and the evening was ruined anyway, I went back to the hotel and flew out early in the morning.
Miami to Savannah was to be a three-hour flight. However, I had to land in Jacksonville for a pee stop. Some pilots brought along a milk bottle for that but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
At Jacksonville, I made a phone call to Sharon Wallace to see if everything was set up. She felt it was under control. She had been working on continuing the Ricky Jackson Circus. She would fill me in when I got there.
From habit, I checked the payphone coin return. I hit the jackpot. There were two dollars in quarters left behind. Landing at Savannah I was met by a security guard by the name of Frank Willis. The Marshals Service was stretched thin for the next week so they had hired Frank’s firm to escort me on show day.
On the way into town to my hotel, The Ballastone Inn, Frank told me that I would be his last job in Savannah. His company was transferring him to Washington D.C. to guard a new office and hotel site that was just starting construction. It was named the Watergate. He was enthusiastic about it as it would get him closer to his family. Other than family it sounded boring.
It was still early after I got checked in so I went for a walk around the many parks in the area. The parks were all part of General Oglethorpe’s city plan. Each side of the park was surrounded by a row of houses. These were all magnificent mansions at one time, though many were showing their age.
Altogether there were originally twenty-two of the parks. Some of them had been torn down for development over the years. These were called the lost parks. I made a note to let Dad know about this area. Redeveloping this area could make a fortune.
By the time I got to Chippawa Park, I was ready to sit and watch the world go by for a while. This park had a huge statue of General Oglethorpe. There was a guy in a suit and tie sitting at the other end of the bench but he seemed okay so I sat down.
He started talking to me. He was interesting to a point. He lost me when he told me his mother’s saying, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”
She must have bought cheap chocolates. The ones we had at home had a flier in them that told what each one was, or it was printed on the box.
Shortly, thereafter I got on board a streetcar that stopped in front of us. Nice he was, but enough was enough.
I got off the streetcar at a restaurant called The Pirate House. I decided to eat there. It was an interesting place. It was named in Robert Louis Stevenson’s book, ‘Treasure Island.’ It was reputed to be where the Pirate Captain Flint stayed when in Savannah.
Furthermore, the local legend was that he had died in a room upstairs and that his ghost still haunted the house. I found that funny as he was a fictional character. They had a strange way of mixing reality and fiction is all I can say.
After dinner continuing my stroll, I passed Club One. A sign outside said the Lady Chablis used to appear there. Whoever Lady Chablis was, I had never heard of her, or from the picture they had, he, she, or it.
After that discovery, I returned to the Ballastone and turned in.
The next day was another free day so I continued my walking tour of the city. I saw the Chatham cannon that the city had since the Revolutionary War. They had been taken from the British at the battle of Yorktown. George Washington had presented them to the city.
During the recent unpleasantness, they had been buried under the Armory to hide them from Sherman. A guide standing at the public display told this to me, it took me a moment to figure out he was talking about The War of Northern Aggression. Conversely, it could be called, the War of Southern Rebellion, but when in Rome.
The guide, Stacy Keach, was really knowledgeable and was a pleasure to talk to. I didn’t identify myself so I think everything he said was genuine. He told the tour group he was going to Hollywood. He wanted to be in the movies or at least on TV. From his looks and the way he handled himself I thought he might make it.
I took a tour bus out to the Roundhouse. This was a museum under construction. It was the oldest Roundhouse in the state and about the only one not destroyed in Sherman’s March to the Sea. It would be gone if the city had not surrendered. It was part of the Central Georgia Railway. Since I grew up in a railroad town they always fascinated me.
Going back into town I had lunch by the river. I toured Juliette Gordon Low’s house then returned to the hotel. At lunch, someone had left a copy of the Savannah Morning News. On the front page was a headline announcing that the Ricky Jackson Circus had come to town. The article wondered what spectacular follow up to my Miami and New Orleans visits would be.
Oh, oh. I had better catch up with Sharon and see what was set up for tomorrow. She was staying at the same hotel so I
