Say It Ain’t So, Okefenokee Joe

Okefenokee Joe – South Carolina / Photos: Daniel C. Shippey

I was sitting at Reagan National Airport in Washington D.C. waiting for a flight back to Georgia when I learned about the passing of Okefenokee Joe. I wasn’t sure if it was true so I picked up my phone and called his number…Okefenokee Joe was known across the state of Georgia, South Georgia in particular, as the host and narrator of Swampwise on Georgia Public Broadcasting. He was a musician, educator, conservationist, storyteller and notable cultural figure. Okefenokee Joe passed away on Monday, January 9, 2023 at age 90. Okefenokee Joe was born Dick Flood on November 13, 1932 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. From an early age he had a knack for guitar, singing, songwriting, storytelling and the outdoors. By 1956, Flood was given a regular spot on The Jimmy Dean Show. From there he did various USO tours of Europe, Africa and Asia to perform for U.S. troops abroad. He moved to Nashville, Tennessee in 1959 to pursue music. There he co-wrote many songs with legends Jimmy Dean, Bill Anderson, Roy Orbison, Fred Foster and more, performing at The Grand Ole Opry nearly every weekend between 1960-1961. He ended up touring and playing with Golden Era artists Johnny & June Carter Cash, Patsy Cline, Red Foley, George Jones, Ray Price, Faron Young, Minnie Pearl, Ferlin Husky, Bill Anderson, Roy Orbison and many others.

On a whim I reached out to him one year for a photoshoot and to my surprise, he replied the next day, enthused about the shoot chuckling, “I am not as pretty as I once was.”

In the woods about midway between Augusta Georgia and Columbia South Carolina, I turned down a dirt path toward a small house built of wood with a red tin roof and a small garden, odds and ends scattered around the front porch. Barrels, baskets, old, rusted saws, firewood, an American flag and three old wooden rocking chairs. I was traveling with my girlfriend Olivia and Joe welcomed us like wagon trail, opening the fridge and offering pot roast.

His home was dimly lit but comfortable and cozy and filled with accomplishment and collaboration. Between Seminole relics and alligator hunting photos, there was his old Martin guitar, Swampwise Academy Award certificate, and his induction to the Atlanta Country Music Hall of Fame. Joe embodied something like a mountain man, an old Indian chief and a great-grandfather all somehow rolled into one man.

Taking a seat, he almost instinctively picked up the Martin guitar and began to fiddle with it as we talked, soon rolling into Swampy the Dog, Skeeter the Cat and Me. An honor to hear the long loved lyrics live in his living room: “Okefenokee Georgia. Population three. Swampy the dog, Skeeter the cat and Me!”

It wasn’t until he left Nashville that he slid into the storytelling icon that he would become in later years – the Okefenokee we’ve all come to know and love and sing along with. Driving south out of the music city, he stopped at the Okefenokee Swamp where he was a offered job. It ended up becoming his identity. “I carved a living out of life,” Okefenokee Joe said. “I’ve been Okefenokee Joe for over 40 years.

“When I lived in the swamp in Georgia most of the time I would cook over the open fire. I call it the smell of freedom. You smell that wood fire?” Okefenokee Joe lifted his head up and sniffed the air. And sure enough, his home did have the clinging scent of smoke and fire, and his free and easy way of life. “You gotta use the right kind of wood or else you’ll have a hell of a smoking fire!” Every conversation, Joe’s still teaching us how to live off the land.

This life he carved was spent sharing his knowledge of environmental and conservationist efforts on Georgia Public Broadcasting shows such as Georgia Outdoors. He’d go on to win an Emmy Award for his documentary, Swampwise. He was dedicated to educating people about the nature of the swamps. “I drove my car up and down the highways to different schools for 40 years. I’d do maybe 75 a year. I also did a lot of sportsman’s shows,” he says of an influence that kept on rolling right into 2023.

“I was never a great guitar player. I was always a songwriter and a storyteller and an entertainer. Not a great singer, just a singer. I get mind bogged every now and then. Just not sure about the next line to a song. It takes time. I call them God lines. Whenever I’m stuck and I can’t think and I walk out of the room and go somewhere else and ‘Wow! There’s the line!’ and all of the sudden there it is. God gave the line to me.”

Leaving that day I had the chance to shake his hand with both of mine and thank him on all our behalves saying of our visit and maybe subconsciously of his whole life contribution, “This has meant a lot to me,” and he said “Same for me.” It wasn’t the last time we’d talk or that he’d express his natural sense of gratitude. We’d even talked recently about setting up another visit.

Sitting in the airport calling to confirm the rumors of his passing, I counted the cost of the lost chance for that visit, and for the stories he hadn’t yet told. On the other end of the line, when I asked if Joe was there, the answer came slowly, “No… He’s not.” The voice belonged to one of Joe’s sons who told me that Okefenokee Joe had “gone home.”

It occurred to me how much he knew this was coming. He was already telling the story during our visit. “About everybody I knew is gone except for me. Even my friend Oscar up there, he’s gone,” he laughed and nodded toward the photo of him posing with a giant alligator. “I’ll be gone too sometime soon.”

Too soon, Joe. Way too soon.

To read this story in its entirety, subscribe now to the print edition for the full article or get instant access to our interactive digital edition.