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Hello Georgia: an unforgettable experience
Touched by the wave of love
, Ships have always captivated me.
In our home in Savannah in the
early 19405, we had a picture of a
majestic sailing vessel of the 18th
cfcntury; it was a lure for far-off
places and intriguing adventure.
But the only time I ever sailed seas
was my voyage to Japan in 1950
with the 187th Airborne
Regimental Combat team to do bat
tle with communism in the Korean
War.
Then, in 1960, the night before
our first child, Rebekah, was bom, I
had the privilege of accompanying
my good friend, the late Bill Stegin,
as he piloted a huge vessel into the
Savannah harbor.
In my pre-teens I had the delight
of seeing the poetic beauty of one
of America’s greatest cities. Many
Saturdays, I’d walk from our house
at the comer of Whitaker and 40th
Street to Walburg Street, near
Forsyth Park, to take Hawaiian gui
tar lessons. Then, with my guitar
under my arm, I’d walk to Drayton
Street, guided and protected by the
giant oaks with their gray hanging
moss hovering over my head. Soon
I’d reach downtown and on past
Broughton Street, across Bay
Street, down the cobblestone walk
way to River Street.
Slightly worn from the long walk,
I’d sit down on a piece of decaying
wood and watch the giant ships
come into the harbor. With the gild
ing breeze fanning my face and
echoing in the sound chamber of
my guitar, I’d almost hear the
sounds of the Hawaiian music, and
I thought of the song I’d just
learned to play: On The Beach at
Waikiki.
With the sea gulls darting down
ward and outward from the water,
the ships, with the occasional sound
of a horn, workers busy loading and
unloading ships, and sailors in their
varied uniforms, I felt that I had
also sailed. And all the thoughts
which rushed through my mind
made my day brighter and burdens
lighter.
Then one day, far away from
home, I heard about another ship
watcher, one who created a legend.
Her name is Florence Martus, the
Georgia “waving girl.” With her,
the unprecedented was established.
It all began when she lived with
her brother, a lighthouse keeper, in
a small house on Elba Island. The
lighthouse served as a visual guide
by day and a display of lights at
night to warn mariners of danger
and to assist them in determining
their course.
Life in a lighthouse cottage was
lonely, and Florence would spend
hours doing chores and walking the
paths in the sand nearby and gather
ing shells. Her friends were few,
and much of her time was spent in
solitude filled with day-dreams and
innocent yearnings. Her closest
companion was her imagination.
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She loved the sea, the sky, the gen
tle winds and the thrill of watching
ships come in from ports around the
world.
Deep within Florence was a quiv
ering quail of love, seeking a new
home. To still the tempest within
and share her love, she began the
habit of waving at the sailors on
these ships. In the daytime she’d
wave a white handkerchief or cloth;
at night, she would wave a flaming
light.
On the ship, a sailor would catch a
glimpse of this girl waving, and
caught up in the wonder of it, he’d
shout to other seamen, “Look!
She’s waving at us. We’re welcome
in this port.” It seemed to be a lan
guage for all nations, and they were
hypnotized by this unblemished act
of love.
Lonely men, who had spent
months at sea without even a smile
of a woman’s face, were charmed
and delighted.
Why did she do such an unusual
thing? And why did she keep doing
it for 46 years?
There are several answers. Some
describe her as a young woman
who met and spent time with sea
men, and these close encounters
merged into wild, passionate, but
temporary romances. But her own
explanation was that she began out
of boredom, and continued as a
habit.
Can we believe this?
I don’t believe so. What she never
told was another story, uncon
firmed, yet compelling, is that she
fell in love with a handsome sea
man; he promised to marry her
when he returned, but in the tragic
sentiment of the popular son of
Tanya Tucker, “Delta Dawn,” she
waited a lifetime for a man who
would never return.
True or not, the fact remains that
Florence Martus spent half her life
waiting and waving a welcome to
ships coming into Savannah. June 1,
1931, was the date of her very last
wave.
On Jan. 5, 1977, the Savannah
Journal-Record announced the
world premier of a local stage pro
duction by the Savannah Ballet
Guild and the Savannah Symphony
Orchestra of “The Legend of The
Waving Girl." This performance
was conducted on Jan. 7,1977 at the
Civic Center Theatre.
The newspaper also told of a cele
bration held at Fort Pulaski on the
occasion of the 70th birthday of
Miss Florence which abounded with
numerous gifts, royal honors andsu
perlative verbal tributes for the
world-famous lady. She was so
emotionally enraptured by the event,
she could not even speak. She man
aged to write a note to say: “This is
the grandest day of my life.”
If you walk down the waterfront
toward the east end of River Street
to the waterfront park, you’ll see the
Waving Giri Monument; the statue,
which shows the girl and her dog,
faces the waters of the Savannah
River. She’s still waving. The statue,
the only one of its kind in existence,
was designed by the same artist who
created the World War II monument
in Washington D.C., to commemo
rate the U.S. victory on Iwo Jima,
the island held by the Japanese.
On our last trip to Savannah,
Rachael, my wife, and I saw this
splendid work of art. As we gazed
on the somber and still figure of the
girl with her cheerful welcome, I
was reminded of my return to the
United States in 1952 after 14
months in combat in Korea.
Longing for the sights of home
and welcome voices of my people, I
looked out over the waters of the
harbor at Seattle, Wash., and saw a
tugboat which had come to greet us.
On board was a band playing music,
girls dancing and Rosemary
Clooney, the famous singer, beam
ing out the song, “Come On To My
House.”
Homesick soldiers screamed with
glee; shouts of frenzied joy could be
heard above the sound of the music.
It was one of the most thrilling
events of my life.
Standing on the deck of that great
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gray ship, I felt at last I had reached
a place where someone cared about
me. I had come home.
I imagine that those seamen who
traveled the oceans of the world,
hard-working men who kept the
ships moving through the waters to
their destined ports, soldiers who
boarded these ships headed for
bloody battlefields of World War I,
were in a similar fashion, were lifted
to higher levels of joy by the tender
arm of this young girl with her
handkerchief and light.
That tiny, feminine figure, stand
ing as she did on the banks of the
river, said in every letter of every
language under the son, “there is
someone here who cares.” Sublime,
overpower of the love which sent a
sincere and simple stream of
unselfish good will to all.
The Waving Girl died, unmarried,
Feb. 8, 1963, at age 95. My tribute
to her is in these words I hurriedly
sketched on my return to Jonesboro:
Love has away to get through;
That can reach each valley and
hill.
It can reach to the lonely and
homesick,
And because it can, it will.
FORSYTH COUNTY NEWS Sunday, June 7,1998 -
When you have come
to the edge of life
So many storms caused by El
Nino, starting from the west coast
to the east. Several southern states
were in the path of these horren
dous storms causing wide spread
destruction everywhere and show
ing no mercy. The most powerful
element of these storms were the
tornadoes, tearing and wielding
structures tremendous distances.
It has caused incomprehensible
destruction, and more painfully,
death. Unfortunately, when one
storm did its damage, another was
bearing down on those unfortu
nate individuals who were in its
path, generating more devastation
and destruction.
Ironically, there is a positive
side to all that has happened in
the recent months. That is to say,
God’s love has caused numerous
people to come forward, together,
one to another, helping those who
have felt the mighty blow of
natures fury. The love that sponta
neously emanates the kind of
compassion that God has built
into us. This single force is what
enables mankind to survive, leav
ing an indelible impression by
those who have been touched by
another.
In our everyday life, we
encounter personal storms. God
has given us the wisdom to build
Rev. Ron
Crispens
a strong foundation, but some
times mankind either resists,
ignores or simply refuses to lis
ten. We all encounter storms in
our lives that are not weather
related. When we are unable to
weather these storms we have
been blessed through God’s love,
enabling us to turn to Him for the
kind of strength and courage, like
the victims of El Nifio. The
stronger the storm, the stronger
we become. The stronger our
foundation, the better we survive.
Thus, each time we have to
endure another storm, we grow
stronger, exemplifying God’s
glory.
Trust in God to strengthen us
assured He will always be there
for us. God is testing our faith in
Him. Faith is the cornerstone of
our life. Henceforth, each storm
that we encounter, turn it over to
God and grow in His glory. Read
Isaiah 40:31.
See CRISPENS, Page 5B
PAGE 3B