Open Water

BY REBECCA BURNS

In 1948‚ Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reporter Roy Sprigle traveled undercover through the South to report on life under Jim Crow. Three thousand miles into his journey‚ he reached Brunswick‚ only to learn that “along all the hundred miles of Georgia’s coast line with its scores of beautiful island and shore beaches‚ there’s not a single foot where a Negro can stick a toe in salt water.” Indeed‚ the fine for swimming in the ocean was $50. Not long before Sprigle’s arrival‚ three young women were arrested for simply trying to swim at a Glynn County beach.

“Georgia bought the fabulous Jekyll Island‚ playground of the Rockefellers‚ Whitneys and Bakers for $800‚000. It will build a great seashore resort for the citizens of Georgia‚” wrote Sprigle. “But there will be no accommodations for Negroes‚ despite pleas by most of the Negro organizations in the state.”

Two years after Sprigle’s visit‚ black residents of Brunswick petitioned the state for access‚ and in 1950‚ a portion of southern Jekyll‚ renamed St. Andrews Beach‚ was designated for blacks‚ becoming the first public beach in Georgia accessible to African Americans. Five years later‚ the state erected the “Colored Beach House,” which now stands as a historic landmark at Camp Jekyll.

Oral history exhibits at Mosaic‚ the Jekyll Island Museum‚ recount memories of Jekyll during the segregation era.

One features Jim Bacote who as a teenager testified in the 1964 class action lawsuit that led to the integration of Georgia’s state facilities.

As Georgia’s only beach available to blacks‚ St. Andrews developed a following of loyal vacationers and‚ with construction of the Dolphin Club and Motor Hotel‚ became a prime spot on the comedy and music “Chitlin’ Circuit‚” hosting acts such as Percy Sledge and Millie Jackson. To host a convention of black dentists‚ the state erected South Beach Auditorium in 1960. It was not until 1964‚ more than a decade after the opening of St. Andrews Beach‚ that the passage of the Civil Rights Act mandated all of Jekyll’s beaches be integrated.

Ben Galland is a coastal Georgia boy‚ born and bred. The Brunswick business owner and photographer grew up on St. Simons‚ the lush barrier island where live oaks and white-tailed deer flourish. The natural beauty of his hometown and its less-developed neighbor‚ Jekyll‚ captured his imagination and set him on the artist’s path at a young age.

“Dad was an amateur photographer‚ so my interest started early‚” he says. The thirty-six-yearold majored in visual communications at Berry College‚ then spent six months studying photography in Florence. He honed his eye traveling around Italy on weekends with his girlfriend (now wife). “It was mostly street photography‚” he says. “Very urban. Lots of people.”

Fast-forward fifteen years. Galland and his wife are raising two children on St. Simons and celebrating the tenth anniversary of H2O Creative Group‚ the Brunswick marketing and design agency he co-founded. He handles all of the firm’s photography. “Fortunately I get to do exactly what I went to school for‚” he says. “But owning a small business can be draining. That’s when I find solace in my art.”

That art is nature photography. For the past decade‚ Galland has been documenting Georgia’s barrier islands for a series of books published by UGA Press. The series started with a book about St. Simons; one on Sapelo soon followed. In 2016‚ Galland reunited with Jingle Davis, who wrote the St. Simons book‚ to produce Island

Passages: An Illustrated History of Jekyll Island.

This engaging overview of Jekyll’s history and natural environment is written with a reporter’s flair—Davis was a longtime journalist at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution—and illustrated with Galland’s sumptuous photographs.

“Shooting St. Simons was easy‚” he says.

“Like second nature.” But the Jekyll project was different. The island was plenty familiar to Galland—his parents took him there as a child for the occasional excursion or fancy dinner—but suddenly he was seeing it through new eyes. “The smaller population‚ the lack of development . . . They allow a certain serenity you don’t have on St. Simons. So much of Jekyll is pristine. And the parts that are developed are so well maintained‚ the architecture so beautiful. For the first time‚ I was seeing it all as a photographer. It felt like a brand-new love affair.”

Speaking of love affairs‚ these days Galland is playing around with drones. Overhead photography is his latest passion and will likely play a starring role in upcoming books‚ one about Cumberland Island‚ the other about tabby‚ the oyster-based building material integral to the history of the coastal South. Staying inspired—finding new ways to see old things—seems almost like a moral imperative to Ben Galland. “I’m not the type to stand on the street corner and protest‚” he says. “But there are many kinds of activism. I love our coastal environment. If a photograph of mine makes somebody feel the same way and think about our need to protect it‚ I’m very happy.”

“I like to watch them swim away. I’ve seen two get loosed [released]. They swim fast in the water, but on the land they are slow. Sometimes Dr. Terry [Norton, of the Georgia Sea Turtle Center] has to give them a push to get them going, and then they have to dive. But some turtles, like Shawny, can’t dive down. We call him ‘bubble butt’ because his bottom stays up in the air . . . They are endangered species and I just really love them and want to save them.” —gracie weber

As told to JENNIFER SENATOR • Photograph by BRIAN AUSTIN LEE gracie weber, age seven, has visited jekyll island since she was three years old, and in 2018 she attended sea turtle camp at the georgia sea turtle center. gracie raised nearly $300 for the center by holding a fundraiser in her hometown of sugar grove, ohio, where she rescues stray box turtles.