Thirty-four-year-old Thomasina Williams, who lived out of her car in the past, can count on one hand the number of places that were her own.
Through the generosity of one group and thanks to a coronavirus stimulus check, she now has a furnished home for she and her 5-year-old daughter.
Editor’s Note: A version of this story first appeared in the May 17, 2020, version of The Gaston Gazette newspaper in Gastonia, N.C.
Thomasina Williams has been homeless before and knows what it’s like to live out of your car and have all your earthly possessions in your backseat.
After the death of her mother when Williams was just 16 years old, she’d spent the past 18 years bouncing from one family member’s home to another, from Virginia to North Carolina, searching for a permanent landing spot.
“It was tough,” she said. “I can count on how many places I had (to call home) on my hand. It was three. Three places that were my own.”
Williams had moved in with her brother and other family members in their Gastonia, N.C., home in September 20109, but was facing the very real possibility of being without a home again earlier this year. The family was moving to a smaller place and there wasn’t room for Williams and her 5-year-old daughter, Miacayla.
Williams was determined to not put her daughter through the turmoil she’d endured. She needed stability in her life.
“I’m just a person that don’t bother people unless I really need help,” Williams said. “It (being without a home) didn’t really bother me that much when I was young. It didn’t bother me until now when I’m getting older and wiser and I have a child.”
She and Miacayla had a home before in Virginia. But Williams said they lost both the home and her vehicle.
“I was struggling. My job wasn’t paying enough, I had a car note, taking care of her, her father was in and out of her life,” she said.
In March 2020, Williams landed a job as a custodian with the Gaston County public school system. Around that same time, she and Miacayla found a temporary home at the Gaston Inn, paying on a weekly basis.
Each weekday at 6 a.m., she and Miacayla left their room at the hotel on East Franklin Boulevard and walked five blocks to the bus stop at the Eastridge Mall. Miacayla was dropped off at daycare and Williams at the Gaston County School District office, where she was taken to whatever school she was working at that day. In the afternoon, the process would reverse itself with Williams and Miacayla walking back into their hotel room 12 hours later.
While blessed to have a job, Williams, who was without a car and had little money, was going to need a minor miracle and an angel.
Who knew the minor miracle would be linked to the coronavirus COVID-19 that has caused financial hardship, sickness and death to so many? Economic Impact Payments distributed by the federal government in April provided an unexpected boost to Williams’ bank account.
The stimulus check was a blessing, Williams said. The $1,700 she received for herself and Miacayla provided the security deposit and first month’s rent for an apartment at The Oaks at Edgemont apartment complex in Gastonia.
“This is the time to step out and try,” Williams recalled thinking as she held the check in her hands. “And when I tried, God opened that door.”
Thomasina Williams gets a hug from Phyllis Lowery as several vehicles from Risa’s Special Delivery loaded with furniture and household items pull into the parking lot of The Oaks apartment complex in Gastonia, N.C., on Saturday afternoon, May 9, 2020. [Mike Hensdill/The Gaston Gazette]
Phyllis Lowery, who has been a bus driver for the city of Gastonia Transit System for the past four years, remembers seeing Williams walking along the street.
“I used to see her walking a lot and one day we had Free Friday,” Lowery recalled. “I stopped and told her, ’You know, the bus is free all day today. You can ride anywhere you need to go.’”
That initial conversation would stem more talks and Lowery would come to learn that the woman she saw each of those cold mornings was out searching for a job.
“I started learning a lot about her,” Lowery said. “It had got to the point where she was in tears. She just didn’t know what to do and she felt like giving up.”
Williams told Lowery she had found an apartment, but didn’t have anything else other than she and her daughter’s few belongings. That’s when Lowery decided to act.
Lowery has been a member of Risa’s Special Delivery since its formation in January 2018. Over the past two years, the non-profit organization has made numerous donations to families and individuals in need. Lowery said she enjoys being a member of a group that’s devoted to helping people.
“Right now, everybody’s basically paycheck to paycheck,” Lowery said. “When we all come together to help and support each other, it makes it special.”
Thomasina Williams gives a hug to Florence Eury, left, after several vehicles from Risa’s Special Delivery arrived at her home at The Oaks apartment complex in Gastonia, N.C., on Saturday afternoon, May 9, 2020. [Mike Hensdill/The Gaston Gazette]
Lowery contacted Florence Eury, the founder of Risa’s Special Delivery, and told her of Williams’ plight. The story resonated with Eury.
“I’ve never been homeless, but as a single mother it touched my heart,” Eury said. “I could never imagine being homeless with my children.”
On Saturday, May 9, 2020, about 20 members with Risa’s Special Delivery went up and down the apartment complex stairs carrying items into Williams’ home. They were cleaning, helping to build bed frames and arranging furniture.
Eury said it was fitting that the delivery was made the day before Mother’s Day.
“It was planned for next Saturday, but I told them, ’I dare not have her stay in here with nothing on Mother’s Day. This is her Mother’s Day gift,” she said.
In just three days after asking for help on the group Facebook page, Eury said they were flooded with donations.
“Stuff just started coming in,” she said. “They got nice things and she had nothing. This is the first time we’ve done a complete makeover. It’s just a blessing.”
Perry and Florence Eury help carry furniture and household goods as Risa’s Special Delivery made a delivery to Thomasina Williams’ apartment. [Mike Hensdill/The Gaston Gazette]
On Friday, May 8, 2020, Williams and her daughter entered their own apartment for the first time. On Saturday night, they sat in a fully-furnished apartment, surrounded by new couches, beds, lamps, television and plants with a full refrigerator and microwave.
“I don’t think it’s going to hit me until later,” Williams said. “It’s just been so long. Five years for my daughter… it’s a big blessing. This is the first time I’ve ever had someone come in and help me.”
She believes having their own home can change both her and her daughter’s life.
“I just want to tell everybody to ’keep your head up and keep on pushing, just keep pushing,’” Williams said. “This right here changed my life.”
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Jeff Postell was a rookie cop in his first few months on the job when he captured Eric Rudolph, the 1996 Centennial Olympic Park bomber and one of America’s Most Wanted.
Read his story and his thoughts on the man who has the coldest eyes of any man he’s met in his life.
Better than Barney Fife! Jeff Postell captured Eric Rudolph in a small mountain town in North Carolina on May 31, 2003
Note: An edited version of this story first appeared in the Friday, Dec. 13, 2019, edition of The Gaston Gazette newspaper in Gastonia, N.C.
By Michael Banks
Though he now patrols a college campus and makes his home in the Northeast, the man who put the handcuffs on Olympic bomber Eric Rudolph says North Carolina will always remain a part of who he is.
On the walls of Jeff Postell’s office at the Boston College Police Department are FBI wanted posters, one of them “the size of a Volkswagen bug,” showing Rudolph, who in the spring and summer of 2003, was one of America’s 10 most wanted criminals after being identified in 1998 as the person responsible for the Centennial Olympic Park bombing in Atlanta during the 1996 Summer Olympics. Two people would die from the blast and 111 were injured.
“Richard Jewell,” a film that debuted Friday, Dec. 13, 2019, tells the story of Jewell, a Centennial Olympic Park security guard who came under FBI suspicion for involvement in the crime, becoming the prime suspect and an international news story.
Also hanging on those same walls in Postell’s office are limited-edition sketches of one of his favorite television programs, “The Andy Griffith Show” depicting scenes from the fictitious town of Mayberry that was similar in so many ways to the North Carolina mountain towns where he grew up and achieved worldwide fame.
Postell, who is now 38, is quick to name off some of his favorite “Andy Griffith” episodes – the time a goat swallowed dynamite and diminutive deputy Barney Fife’s attempt to join the state police – as he grew up watching the show with his grandparents, who adopted and raised him and are the people he refers to as mom and dad.
“It really taught you about being a good person, being humble and being an individual who is willing to take care of people and help people with their problems and doing the right thing.”
He is quick with a loud laugh when asked if Barney Fife would have ever been capable of catching one of America’s most wanted.
“If you’re comparing me to Barney Fife, I might take offense to that,” he said laughing. “Do I think Barney could have done it? Perhaps. He had a niche for stumbling upon things very similar to what I did, I guess.”
But Postell, who was a 21-year-old rookie cop 10 months into his first job when he made his most famous arrest, is quick to point out he was out there just doing his job that fateful night.
“The one thing that really irritates me over the years is when people say that I got lucky,” he said. “You only need luck when you go to a casino.
“I think the arrest of Eric Rudolph had nothing to do with luck. It was being vigilant, it was being responsible, being in the field, being on the job, doing what people expected me to do, what people hired me to do.”
Murphy Police Officer Jeff Postell is shown in Murphy, N.C., Sunday, June 1, 2003 .(AP Photo/Alan Marler, File)
I think the arrest of Eric Rudolph had nothing to do with luck. It was being vigilant, it was being responsible, being in the field, being on the job, doing what people expected me to do, what people hired me to do.”
— Jeff Postell
Encounter of a lifetime
Postell credits the training he received in the police academy and field training program for preparing him for his encounter with Rudolph, who in May 2003 was a subject of a nationwide manhunt and was believed to be hiding in the Appalachian wilderness.
“Louis Pasteur said ‘chance favors a prepared mind,’” Postell said of the motto that was ingrained in him by his field training officer. “Always be prepared for what you may engage in, be ready, always know where you’re at.”
In keeping with his training, Postell had been changing up his routine during his first few months on the job with the Murphy Police Department.
“I never had a set pattern and routine, there was no trend he could follow,” Postell said of Rudolph, who, as investigators would later find out, was monitoring police movements from atop his perch on a nearby mountain.
Rudolph would even mention later to police that Postell had nearly caught him a few months prior, thanks to his altered patrols and never following the same routine. Rudolph told investigators that things might have gone differently that night as he had a gun.
It was around 3:30 in the morning on May 31, 2003, when Postell was making his usual patrol as he was the only officer on duty within the town limits at that time of day.
Driving around the back of a Sav-A-Lot located in a strip mall, the rookie officer noticed an individual near a trash bin behind the building. When he spotted the police car, the person then tried to run and Postell noticed the subject had a long, dark object that he thought could be a gun, but which later proved to be a flashlight.
“I knew there was something definitely drastic that was going on,” Postell recalled. “I had no idea who he was.”
Postell was able to corner the man behind some milk crates and then get him onto the ground and handcuff him. The man told Postell he was homeless and that he had hitchhiked from Ohio. He had no identification, saying he had never had the need for a Social Security number, and then gave a fictitious name.
“That raised a red flag in my mind,” Postell said.
He said a deputy sheriff, who was one of the backup units that had arrived, had known Rudolph from many years prior when they attended school together. Upon seeing the man handcuffed, he pulled Postell to the side and said, “You know, he kind of has a weird resemblance to Eric Rudolph.”
Postell didn’t believe it.
“I was like, ‘Ha, you’re being funny.’ No way.’”
It was only when they had taken the man to jail and then pulled up a wanted poster on the FBI website that things began to become clear. While the person before them had little resemblance to the sketch provided by the FBI, a physical description of Rudolph was provided.
“I’m getting the hair color right, I’m getting the eye color right, I’m getting the attached ear lobes,” Postell said. “And then on the FBI poster, it said there was a little scar on his chin.”
He peered closely at the man who sat across from him in the jail cell.
“His head was tilted back and he was kind of staring at the ceiling and the scar on his chin was staring me right in the eye,” Postell recalled. “That’s when the butterflies in my stomach really started churning.”
The officers printed out the pictures and walked over and surrounded the man. They held the pictures behind his head so he couldn’t really see what they were looking at, comparing the pictures and the man before them.
They asked him to tell them who he was. The man didn’t reply. They asked him again.
“And he says, ‘What does that paper say,’” Postell recalled. “I remember one of the officers said, ‘Listen, that’s not what you were asked. Tell us who you are.’ And that’s when he kind of laughed a little bit and in the darkest, deepest, coldest tone he said, ‘I’m Eric Robert Rudolph and you’ve got me.’”
Postell and the other officers were stunned.
“My knees knocked so much that I answered them,” he said. “The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and I said, ‘Oh, boy!’”
In this June 2, 2003 file photo, Eric Robert Rudolph, center, is escorted from the sheriff’s department in Murphy, N.C. (AP Photo/Mary Ann Chastain)
“I can remember being very nervous and very anxious to see him. Eric Rudolph had the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen in an individual. His eyes were so cold and so dark,”
— Jeff Postell
Whirlwind
The next hours and days would be a whirlwind of activity for Postell and the town of Murphy.
Media descended on the area, seeking the story of how a rookie cop and a small town police force, numbering just 10 full-time officers, had captured the man who had eluded the FBI for seven years.
There were interviews and fan mail. People magazine made him one of its 25 hottest bachelors of 2003. He was getting recognized everywhere.
“It was just crazy,” recalls Postell.
But through it all, he was able to remain who he was – a humble, down-to-earth guy.
“If it did anything, it made me even more humble,” he said. “I am just Jeff Postell.”
Postell credits his upbringing for staying true to himself.
“I did nothing special, I was just doing my job,” he said, crediting the other officers who assisted him that night after he had handcuffed and brought in Rudolph.
“It wasn’t about Jeff Postell. This was hundreds of people, thousands of people who had been impacted by his acts. Having that opportunity to help close that chapter and help provide them a sense of comfort and closure. To me, that’s what was important.”
There was a $1 million reward offered for information leading up to the arrest of Rudolph. And while the mayor of Murphy pushed for Postell to receive the reward, he never received a dime.
“If you’ve ever met a screwed-out-of-a-million-dollar guy, then I’m the guy. I say that jokingly,” he said. “If I had a nickel for every time somebody asked me about the million dollar reward, that million dollars would be pocket change.”
Postell says he never feels he was entitled to the reward.
“I was on duty, acting in my capacity as a police officer doing the job I was hired to do,” he said. “The million dollar award never crossed my mind. That money was not worth it to me.”
Postell said had he got the reward he would have donated it to charity, the city of Murphy and the police department.
Eric Robert Rudolph is led to a waiting police car by U.S. marshals as he leaves the Jefferson County Jail for a hearing in Birmingham, Ala., Wednesday, April 13, 2005. (AP Photo/John Bazemore)
Forever linked
Postell admits that he’ll forever be connected with Rudolph, but it’s something that he never brings up, only responding when questioned about it.
He would have a few interactions with Rudolph over the days and years following his arrest. He would lead the convoy to take Rudolph to the airport where he would eventually be placed in the federal penitentiary system.
“I watched him come out of the jail. He saw me. I saw him,” he said of the glare he received from Rudolph.
And it would be during Rudolph’s trial in Birmingham, Ala., a few years later where they would have a final interaction.
“I can remember being very nervous and very anxious to see him. Eric Rudolph had the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen in an individual. His eyes were so cold and so dark,” Postell recalled.
“I believed that he wanted to intimidate me. I walked into that courtroom and I sat very close to where he was sitting and I did not take my eyes off of him. And I do not believe that he did not look at me once. And that said a lot to me about who he is as a person.”
In order to avoid the death penalty, Rudolph would accept a guilty plea for the murder of a police officer in 1998 during the bombing of an abortion clinic in Birmingham, as well as the Olympic Park bombing in Atlanta and the bombing of a lesbian bar and an abortion clinic in Sandy Springs, Ga.
Rudolph, 53, is serving his life sentence at the federal Supermax prison in Colorado.
Postell did say he’d read the book that Rudolph published in 2013 titled “Between the Lines of Drift: The Memoirs of a Militant.”
“There was no surprise to me to what was included in the book. I would say it was not one of the New York Times’ best-sellers.”
Security guard Richard Jewell, the Olympic bombing hero and FBI suspect, gets into his attorney’s automobile in Atlanta, in this Aug. 6, 1996, file photo. Jewell was later cleared and Eric Rudolph was convicted in the bombing. (AP Photo/Ric Feld)
Impact of “Richard Jewell”
With the debut of the movie “Richard Jewell,” Postell said there has been renewed interest in his story. There have been multiple interviews, including one with Fox News.
He planned to watch the movie Friday night with his family. He did not expect to see his name or role mentioned in the arrest of Rudolph as he was not consulted by the filmmakers.
“This movie is not about me,” Postell said. “This is about Richard Jewell, who was wrongfully accused and paid dearly for it.”
He said he believes the film will generate some questions and interest, but he worries about the impact on the families of those who were injured or killed in the explosions in Atlanta and Birmingham.
“I just hope the movie’s been done tastefully for the people who were impacted by the bombings,” Postell said. “When you witness something traumatic and you have a loved one that dies or get seriously injured, that does not ever go away.”
While he will forever be associated with Rudolph that does not define who Postell is.
Moving on
After becoming assistant chief of the Murphy Police Department and serving as a campus resource officer in Jackson County, Postell made the move to Massachusetts after a visit in 2008.
Since 2009, he has worked with the Boston College Police Department, which keeps watch over some 14,500 students. He started out as an officer, became a sergeant in charge of community policing and, in 2014, was promoted to lieutenant in charge of a 40-officer patrol division.
He and his partner make their home in Taunton, Mass., a town of nearly 60,000 residents just south of Boston. They have an 18-year-old son, who they adopted when he was 13.
He was elected to the City Council in 2016 and is just finishing up his first term as the council president. He will be serving another two-year term starting in January after winning re-election in November.
While he’s embraced life in the Northeast, Postell says North Carolina will forever be his home.
“I’m very proud of my background and my heritage,” said Postell, who grew up in Andrews. “I think the people of North Carolina are wonderful, amazing people.
“If you venture out from North Carolina for any extended period of time, you start to miss it. You start to realize how important the people are, how important the values are there and just the way of life. It’s a different way of life.”
His last visit to Gaston County was in 2015 and he says he’ll always include stops at the Shrimp Boat and Tony’s Ice Cream during his trips here. He’s grateful for his family that includes his sister-in-law, Shirley Postell, who makes her home in Gastonia, as well as numerous cousins that live in Gaston and Cleveland counties.
“My entire family means so much to me. I’ve been blessed to have a great family, a supportive family and a family that I’ve been able to make proud,” Postell said.
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Note: This story first appeared in the Dec. 1, 2019, issue of The Gaston Gazette newspaper in Gastonia, N.C.
By Michael Banks
It was a Saturday in December, in a frozen, war-torn land half a world away from the forests and streams of Gaston County when the life of Cpl. Earl William Duncan was tragically cut short at the age of 23.
And it was a Saturday, a day before December, nearly 69 years after his death, when the remains of the Korean War veteran were finally put to rest in the soil that he called home.
As a lone bugler played taps under a gray, overcast sky, the casket carrying Duncan’s remains arrived Saturday at his final resting place at Gaston Memorial Park.
His was a journey that had left a father scarred, a mother in mourning and a never-ending quest by siblings to have questions answered. It was one that would originate from a historic summit between the leaders of two countries and the use of DNA analysis that would have been thought of as science fiction in 1950.
Most of all, Saturday was a day for Earl Duncan to return to the land where he loved to hunt and fish and a time for his family, friends and the community to mourn, celebrate and reflect.
“This is a homecoming for one that was lost to us and who we celebrate today. It is nothing short of a miracle to be here today,” said Damien Gula, pastor of McAdenville Wesleyan Church, which was filled with 150 family and friends Saturday afternoon for a welcome home ceremony for Duncan.
Citing the Gospel of Luke chapter 15, Gula talked of the despair when “something of great value is lost” and that corresponding “relentless celebration” when that which is lost is found.
On Dec. 2, 1950, Duncan’s Army infantry company was in the vicinity of the Chosin Reservoir in present-day North Korea when his unit was attacked by enemy forces. Duncan was part of the “Home By Christmas Offensive 1950” that involved 3,000 soldiers and found them fighting four days and five nights in the harshest of conditions with temperatures falling to 35 degrees below zero. He was reported missing in action after the battle ended because his remains could not be recovered.
Duncan would be declared dead on Dec. 31, 1953. And in the ensuing years, no new information about his remains materialized. As the decades passed, questions remained unanswered.
But on July 27, 2018, following a summit a month earlier between President Donald Trump and North Korean Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un, North Korea turned over 55 boxes, purported to contain the remains of American service members killed during the Korean War. Using anthropological and DNA analysis, as well as circumstantial and material evidence, scientists were able to identify Duncan’s remains from one of those boxes.
The family was notified on Sept. 10 and his remains finally arrived in Gaston County on Nov. 23.
Saturday’s day of homecoming started with a family visitation at the McAdenville church as Duncan’s three remaining siblings – brothers Samuel and Howard and sister Elsie – stood beside their brother’s casket that was draped in an American flag.
Overhead, a screen displayed images from Duncan’s life. There were some old black-and-white photos of Duncan with his parents, Prosey and Fronia Mincey Duncan, as well as pictures of him with members of Dog Company, which was part of the 7th Infantry Division’s 32nd Infantry Regiment First Battalion. There were also a great number of family photos, most of them in color. There were marriages, reunions, Christmas celebrations and babies being born. Absent from them all was Earl.
Elsie Loftin, who lives in Lowell, was the only girl among the six Duncan boys. In a letter read by her grandson to the crowd, she talked of the “big brother absent from her life for the past 70 years.” She remembered the pocket full of red pistachios he always seemed to have and the gifts he would send his little sister when he was overseas. And those little trinkets, which were on display Saturday, are “the most highly treasured possessions I will ever own.”
She talked of her big brother’s “generous heart and spirit,” but lamented, “I can’t remember the sound of Earl’s voice. I wish I could.” She also recalled the “complete deafening silence” that enveloped their West Cramerton home when they got the word in December 1950 that Earl was missing in action.
“Our home became a quiet tomb,” Elsie wrote. “Eventually, life would go back to normal for us, but never again for Daddy and Momma.”
She said her father fell into a deep depression and blamed himself for Earl’s death, while her mother was in constant mourning.
And that price paid by Duncan should not be taken for granted, said pastor Michael Loftin, who is Elsie’s grandson and the great-nephew of Earl. Speaking at Saturday’s ceremony, Loftin quoted the Scripture John 15:13: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for friends.”
“It’s men like that who made this country amazing,” Loftin said as he spoke from above Earl’s casket. “This day is about those that made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom and sins. It cost many lives to get us here today.”
With a loud rendition of the hymn “To God Be the Glory” being sung by those in the pews, six members of the U.S. Army’s Military Funeral Honor Guard from Fort Bragg carried Duncan’s remains from the church.
They were also present when his remains arrived at Gaston Memorial Park, led by a convoy of 12 motorcycle riders from the North Carolina Patriot Guard as it passed under a giant American flag held aloft by a ladder truck from the Gastonia Fire Department. The sound of bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace” filled the air as the casket was brought to the grave site by the pall bearers from Fort Bragg.
Under a tent and near the casket, family members sat, surrounded by friends and various military groups, including the Gastonia composite squadron of the Civil Air Patrol and 25 members of the Gaston County Honor Guard.
Speaking graveside, Goda spoke of “this one dearly loved, lost without reach, found and returned home for his final rest. At long last, the search is over.”
A three-volley salute was fired by the military funeral guard with each round representing duty, honor and country. The flag was removed from the casket and presented to Sam Duncan as taps played in the distance.
Howard Duncan said Saturday was a very emotional day and he had decided he was just “gonna let it roll” when it came time for tears. And, for him, that came when taps was played.
The day was about Earl and those who still remain missing, Howard Duncan said.
“There are still thousands of families waiting for this,” he said. “Don’t give up. I had just about given up.”
Three members of The Ride Home, a POW/MIA advocacy group, were at Saturday’s service and made a presentation to the family members. There remain 1,527 service members from North Carolina who are still listed as Missing In Action. Of those, 1,302 are World War II vets, 186 Korean War servicemen and 38 from Vietnam.
The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind for the Duncan family and Howard admitted at the end of Saturday’s service that it hasn’t quite settled in that his brother is finally home after all these years.
“I suspect the day after tomorrow will be kind of lonesome,” said Howard, who added this Dec. 2 will be different than all those previous anniversaries of Earl’s death.
With his brother’s casket just over his shoulder and tears forming again at the corners of his red-rimmed eyes, Howard said, “It’ll be good. Just knowing Earl’s here. Earl’s home.”
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From the first time this writer saw the movie “A River Runs Through It,” I’ve had a fascination with fly fishing.
In the summer of 2019 I had the opportunity to cast my first line in the mountains of western South Carolina.
I learned not only about fly fishing, but also a little bit about life.
As numbers rise, anglers find Chattooga River and Upstate South Carolina delivers
Editor’s Note: An edited version of this story first appeared in the October 2019 issue of South Carolina Living magazine. The publication is read in more than 595,000 homes and businesses and published monthly except in December by The Electric Cooperatives of South Carolina.
By Michael Banks
There is a dirt path leading through the mountain laurel and rhododendron with their clusters of colorful flowers. Hemlocks and pines shoot straight into the blue sky. With hands holding fly rods and feet wrapped in wading boots, we make our way single file through the mountainous Sumter National Forest in Upstate South Carolina.
For I have come to fish the fresh waters. To fly fish, more precisely. And I have come to the Chattooga River. It is, as one resident claims, “a little slice of heaven in South Carolina” and both it and the nearby Chauga River are known as the prime fly-fishing spots in this part of the state.
As I descend a muddied, rock-strewn hillside that’s camouflaged in leafy green undergrowth, I am suddenly thrust upon the main stage. It’s the Burrell’s Ford section of the Chattooga River and I stop, turning in an 180-degree arc, to take in what I’ve come upon.
Long the land of the Cherokee, the Chattooga serves as a boundary between South Carolina and Georgia. A fishing license from either state allows you on the river that stretches 57 miles from its headwaters in the Blue Ridge Mountains south of Cashiers, N.C., to where it meets the Tallulah River at Lake Tugalo.
Here at Burrell’s Ford, the river — clear and a dark navy blue — is bathed in bright sunlight that bounces off the ripples of the current and rapids that carve their way through a jumble of boulders. The coolness of the mountain-fed waters soothe my sweaty feet as I step into the river. The call of nearby songbirds form a chorus with the sound of the running water.
It is, at once, an onslaught to my senses, yet a feeling of inner peace and calmness that slowly ascends, along with the sweet cooling relief from my water-covered limbs to sweat-covered brow, chilled by the breeze that comes from upriver.
This is what this angler has come in search of.
The author casts his line along the Burrell’s Ford section of the Chattooga River during the summer of 2019. Photo by Matthew Franklin Carter.
* * *
Before there’s even a thought to casting the first line, fishing guide Karl Ekberg is off and slogging through the water, eyes intent upon the bottom of the clear riverbed, feverish as he lifts one brown rock after another. If you weren’t upon the Chattooga and had employed his services, Ekberg’s mad scramble would make you think of the frenzied rush of children at a community Easter egg hunt, bursting from the starting line, baskets in hand, scouring each possible hidden cove for treasure.
And that’s exactly what Karl’s doing. For his prize are bugs. And on this day, he is in search of nymphs that lie beneath the silt-covered rocks that line the river bottom. These nymphs will eventually grow to become mayflies, stoneflies and caddisflies that will rise from the river’s surface, creating a perfect storm consisting of a tasty morsel, fly-starved fish and the anglers who seek them.
“Bug in the water catches fish,” Karl says.
In these parts, Karl is known as “the bug guy.” While there is no entomology degree in his fly pack, Karl has put in the homework. Able to quickly identify the often-microscopic creature that flits across the rock’s surface, his enthusiasm is great this day as we’ve found “a monster stonefly.”
“If you have stoneflies in your river, it means you have very clear water,” Karl says.
This aptitude wasn’t always the case. Growing up in northern New Hampshire, Karl, 55, had fished with his father, but, as with most teenagers, he craved speed and action, and he discovered it on the nearby ski slopes as he became a standout downhill racer, even competing on the Olympic course at Lake Placid, N.Y.
It wasn’t until he received fly fishing gear and a fly-tying packet from his parents, as a present for his gaining acceptance into a hallowed culinary school, that the then 21-year-old Ekberg started to get serious about the sport. Yet, it didn’t come easy. There were many hours spent casting on the Pemigewasset River to no avail.
“It was, pretty much, the school of hard knocks,” Ekberg recalls.
It wasn’t until he heard and learned from the words whispered by wise fishermen that his skills improved. And it wasn’t until about two years into it when he took notice of the many insects that flew above the waters, landing upon the surface to be greedily gathered by the trout and bass.
For he soon learned the secret: Know your bugs.
“I really studied bugs. Because if you didn’t know what was going on, you weren’t catching,” he said of his earlier days spent on rivers that were populated by only wild fish instead of the mostly “put and take” hatchery-supported waters in South Carolina.
For most of his adult life, Ekberg used his culinary education in resorts and hotels in the Northeast. It was the warmer southern temps and the presence of family in Central that drew him here in the late ‘90s. He would spend the next 13 years working for Aramark, which provides food service to colleges and universities, while also spending time on the Upstream waters, perfecting his angling skills.
It would be his talents or, more so, his bragging about his fishing expertise that would catch the attention of one of his employees at the dining hall at Southern Wesleyan University in Central in the summer of 2007.
Karen Maddox had grown up in Virginia Beach, Va., but had lived in several areas of the country as “a Navy brat” before settling in South Carolina in 1972.
“He came in bragging about all of these fish he was catching. And I was like, ‘Dude, if you’re not going to invite me, I don’t want to hear about them.’ It was game-on after that,” said Karen, who would start taking lessons from Ekberg and come to enjoy the sport. Her third fish was a 24-inch brook trout caught along the Canadian border.
“What captured me was the first time that I went out there I realized that the river just has a way of capturing your soul and reworking it and giving it back to you before you leave the river. It’s not an explainable thing. It becomes very obsessive and you don’t even know that it’s happening.”
The two, according to Karen, “co-habitate” and their home and business is served by the Blue Ridge Electric Cooperative. They’ve been operating the Chattooga River Fly Shop for the past seven years, including the past four years at its location on Highway 28 in Mountain Rest. While Maddox operates the shop, selling merchandise and setting up trips, Karl is “the bug and fly guy, rods and equipment guy” who is on the river guiding groups.
While he has caught brown trout measuring 27 inches in length, Karl’s favorite fishing memory is that of one day in 2014 spent with his father, fly fishing the Burrell’s Ford section of the Chattooga. It was the last fishing trip his father, who was battling hip and knee pain, would make. In January 2019, Bill Ekberg would suffer a stroke and his kidney and lungs began to fail. The U.S. Navy veteran, who served on the second USS Juneau, would pass away in February at age 84.
“We caught a few fish that day, but that wasn’t what it was about,” Karl says. “It was his last trip and I’m glad it was here.”
Fly fishing guide Karl Ekberg is shown on the Chattooga River. (Photo by Matthew Franklin Carter)
* * *
This ambitious angler readily admits to a romantic image taken from the 1992 film “A River Runs Through It” and actor Brad Pitt, deftly handling his fly rod, the line, long and graceful in the air, as he whips and coaxes the fish to rise from the Montana rapids, that first drew my interest to fly fishing.
I ask Karl if it’s possible that I might go down the Chattooga, a big 24-inch rainbow hooked to my line, trying to reel him in as I deftly dodge boulders and waterfalls.
He grins.
On this day, on this angler’s first foray into the river, I stand in knee-deep waters and more likely resemble the scarecrow from the “Wizard of Oz” with arms askew and the rigidity of my pose mirroring the tin man.
Karl, wise and knowing, introduces me to a roll cast in which I handle a 9-foot pole with my right hand, whipping the line out 90 degrees across from my shoulder to the fast-moving water some six to eight feet away. His words are reassuring and welcomed as he teaches me to fish by using the drift of the current.
“Let the river do the work. Keep your tip up. Now, slowly, let it down. Watch as it moves down the river. Very nice. Good work.”
“Uh, what do I do with my left hand?”
With the briefest of pause, Karl offers with that hint of New England accent, “Keep it waahhmm in your pocket.”
And, so, this is what I do. Cast upon cast, I try to remember to pause at the top before flinging my line at the fast-moving foam nearby, watching the red stretch of line near the end where the weighted fly that was knotted by Karl bounces along the river bottom near the Highway 28 bridge.
I try, again and again, the simple, quick flick of my wrist to set the hook, yet on a couple occasions, I resort to my days of pulling bluegill from a Kentucky farm pond and my fly goes “Bill Dancing” across the waters behind me. I can’t tell if it’s a rock or a fish that tugs on the end of the line, but my eyes stay locked and I nearly taste blood from biting my lower lip. I need to catch fish.
Through it all, Karl remains encouraging and helpful. I almost feel like a third-grader whose gotten an A on his math quiz when Karl tells me, “Fantastic job, Michael. Fantastic cast.”
There are worse things I could be doing on a Tuesday afternoon in early July.
“This is the escape from reality,” Ekberg says. “You see the beauty of the river. Catching fish is a bonus because you’re standing in God’s creation out here. I’m not a very religious person, but when you’re standing out here, you’re not attached to anything. There’s no phone call coming in. It’s the game. Let’s try and catch fish. And all of a sudden you look around and say, ‘Wow. This is something.’”
Ekberg offers some tips to the author while catching a respite on the Chattooga. (Photo by Matthew Franklin Carter)
* * *
Within the past five years, there has been a substantial increase in the number of people interested in fly fishing, according to Maddox and Ekberg. He says about 70 percent of those on their guided trips are brand new to the sport with the others made up of those “who have been catching 10- to 14-inch fish and they’re looking for bigger.”
While so-called industry experts say there is also a rise in women fly-fishing, both Maddox and Ekberg say they haven’t seen a great increase.
On the flip side, the number of younger people becoming interested in fly fishing is taking off. Ekberg points to groups such as the Clemson University Fly Fishing Club, which is the third-largest in the nation, for helping to promote the sport.
And Ekberg believes the completion of the nearby Palmetto Trail – a planned 425-mile foot and bike trail connecting the South Carolina mountains to the coast — will only bring more visitors.
As a businessman, he is in favor of more visitors. As an angler, he is hesitant to see more fishermen in his prime spots. And there’s also the question of whether the infrastructure (improved roads, parking areas) is there to handle the increased traffic. Yet, Ekberg believes it’s possible to find a balance and walk the fine line separating the two.
“Because there’s so much (of the) river that’s not fished on a regular basis, the river can withstand more fishermen,” Ekberg said. “The river’s plenty big enough to stand having double or triple the amount of people out there, but the problem is getting to those areas.”
Both Ekberg and Maddox say the free-flowing, dam-free Chattooga River is the greatest resource in their part of the state and they remain committed to looking after its well-being. They, as well as numerous nearby Trout Unlimited chapters, subscribe to the practice of “leave no trace” on their trips to eliminate litter and keep the scenic river pristine.
“We made a pact in the very beginning that if anything we did affected the well-being of the river corridor, in any way, then we would no longer be doing what we’re doing,” Maddox said. “That’s how much we care about that. The hard part is needing and wanting the revenue to come to us, but (the river) is still to remain pristine. That’s going to be tough.”
Fishing along the Chattooga River, which serves as the boundary between North Carolina and Georgia. (Photo by Matthew Franklin Carter)
* * *
In the end, this angler did not land his first fish. But my confidence is buoyed by the fact that Karl was also unable to reel in a catch before a low rumble of thunder and darkening skies chased us from the river late afternoon.
The heat of the summer had the trout lurking below, along the cooler, deeper waters of the Chattooga. Ideally, trout prefer water temperatures in the range of 45 to 55 degrees. On this early July day, as the outside temps exceeded 80 degrees, the water temperature was near 70. Ekberg told me not to be disappointed.
“Listening to some of the old-timers when I first got here, they would say, ‘If you can catch a fish on the Chattooga, you can catch a fish anywhere in the country,’ because it can be that fickle, day-to-day.”
Ekberg says, “A lot of folks come back here. It’s the challenge of this river. Tomorrow, we might come out and catch 40 fish from here to the bridge. And that’s the tough part about the Chattooga.”
Arriving back at Karl’s fly shop, I was greeted by the hot, humid wrap that is known as summer in the South. Harsh white light bounced off the pavement and my cell phone began to rang as I reached inside the overheated cab of my truck for my sunglasses.
It was a welcome-back-to-reality moment.
The water-laden socks beneath my wading boots were heavy. I felt the scrape along my knee where I’d unsuccessfully hurdled a limb blocking our path and the sting of the horse fly had left a nasty welp.
I raised my eyes to the north, to the green forested mountain range and imagined myself back on the Chattooga River, which now seemed days, not minutes, past. Its cool, clear waters and the fish who lurk beneath are still there.
And I, along with many others alike and unlike me, shall return.
The author and Ekberg head out after their day on the Chattooga. (Photo by Matthew Franklin Carter)
Bitten by the fly fishing bug?
There are several businesses that cater to those wanting to learn more about the sport. From beginners to seasoned anglers, there are a number of options available with price per person ranging from $140 to $300 for half-day sessions to full-day trips on the area rivers costing anywhere from $250 to $350.
Most outfitters provide equipment (including waders, boots, fly rods/reels and flies). Those 16 and older will be required to have a South Carolina fishing license, which can be purchased online at the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources or at several vendors across the state, who are listed on the SCDNR site.
The cost for a freshwater license for a South Carolina resident ranges from $5 (14 days) to $10 (annual) to $30 (three years).
Among the South Carolina-based businesses offering guide services are:
A small government facility hidden deep in a valley of the Upstate South Carolina is responsible for producing some half a million items each year.
Let it be known, the trout anglers of South Carolina are very grateful.
Walhalla State Fish Hatchery ensures that trout remain in South Carolina’s waterways
Editor’s Note: An edited version of this story appeared in the October 2019 issue of South Carolina Living magazine.
By Michael Banks
Nestled deep in a green valley in the mountainous Upstate near its borders with North Carolina and Georgia is a facility that is of critical importance to the trout that swim the area waters and the anglers who seek them.
The Walhalla State Fish Hatchery is one of five public fish hatcheries that are overseen by the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources’ Freshwater Fisheries Management program, but it is the only one raising trout.
Because South Carolina is at “the southern-most extreme of suitable trout habitat, we’re really limited in the number of streams that we can stock. It is a unique fishery for being this far south,” says Scott Poore, the hatchery manager.
Scott Poore, left, and Damon Wilber clean two of the raceways that hold trout at the Walhalla State Fish Hatchery near Mountain Rest, S.C. (Photo by Michael Banks)
Currently, two trucks depart five days a week with an allotment of trout to stock streams and rivers in Oconee, Pickens and Greenville counties, as well as the tail waters of Lakes Hartwell, Jocassee and Murray and the lower Saluda River in Columbia.
There are some wild populations of all three species of trout in the waters of the Upstate, but the only trout native to the area is the brook trout. The Walhalla fish compound plays a central role in making sure trout remain.
“There are so many anglers that target trout, if we were not able to supplement the existing populations or where populations are very limited, I think you would see angling pressure possibly decimate the fishery in some streams,” Poore says. “I think eventually it would come to a point where angling for trout in South Carolina would become non-existent.”
On average, there is a request of 475,000 trout each year from the biologists overseeing the program in the Clemson office. In the 12 years Poore has been at the hatchery, they’ve met that number and often exceeded it.
In a typical season, they are producing 600,000 to 650,000 trout, Poore said. Of that number, the rainbow and brown species are the predominate ones as there will be some 225,000 to 240,000 of each species produced. The rest are brook trout.
Poore, who grew up in the Upstate and graduated from Clemson with degrees in wildlife and fisheries biology, has been working at the Walhalla facility for the past 12 years.
It’s a job he loves.
“I love being outside. To be in the mountains and see all the seasons, it’s just an enjoyable experience. I feel rich in those non-monetary things that we see,” says Poore, who lives adjacent to the hatchery in a stone house with his wife and two sons.
“For me, growing up and enjoying the outdoors, this is a place where I come to where I’m not confined by four walls in an office,” he said. “As long as I’m producing the fish that’s been requested, providing an outreach opportunity for the visitors that come here, and the anglers are happy, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.”
Scott Poore is the manager of the Walhalla State Fish Hatchery near Mountain Rest, S.C. He has been there for the past 12 years. (Photo by Michael Banks)
Want to visit the hatchery?
An estimated 50,000 to 60,000 people visit the Walhalla State Fish Hatchery each year. The Mountain Rest facility, which dates back to the 1930s, is open to the public daily from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. There is no charge for admission and hatchery employees are available to answer questions.
“The kids love to come in and see all the varieties of fish,” says Scott Poore, hatchery manager. “During our peak time, we can easily have 1.2 million fish on hand.”
Shown are some images from in and around the Walhalla State Fish Hatchery near Mountain Rest, S.C., in June 2019. (Photos by Michael Banks)
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“Prejudices are like heavy furniture in a Conestoga wagon on the Oregon Trail. In order to keep them moving forward, sometimes you have to toss them out, even if they are family heirlooms.”
— Duncan Dayton
From his 1987 publication “Out West: An American Journey”
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