Getting ready. Set-up started early, around 6: a.m. We had a 12 hour shooting day ahead of us. ABOVE: Cecil Carter saunters about the dock in the foreground as Producer Jonathan Grupper hands the camera to our cameraman. Ceece was to be the pilot of our boat. He’s an absolute character! He was born on the swamp and knows it real well.

The whole film crew is seen here at RIGHT. Our Production Assistant, Sari Bick, hands cameraman, Mike Minock, some equipment. Jim Carpenter, our sound man, is ready. Jonathan looks on while the camera boat pilot, Chip Campbell, scans the lagoon for gators.

Mike Minock, our cameraman and head of the film crew (a local crew from Jacksonville, Fla.), is also an aviator. When he heard what the shoot was about, (Jonathan told him about my theory), he also looked into the fuel supply of an Avenger. The night before we all went out to dinner. We discussed altimeter error and other navigational problems the flight would have faced. Mike went above and beyond to make the shoot look good.

  Just before we cast off. Cecil Carter poses with Producer Jonathan Grupper and archeologist Rhonda Kimbrough. Rhonda drove from Tallahassee to join the shoot. She is Program Heritage Director of US Forests in Florida. About 10 years ago she discovered by accident (and later excavated) a Curtis P-40 that crashed in 1943 in Florida’s Apilachicola Forest.

   Her expertise of this type of topography and its effects on aircraft is indispensable. Without her input and charm, the whole shoot would have been a dud!  This is a rare photo of Cecil! To see him not smiling is indeed unusual!

  Both Cecil and I were bugged for sound. Cecil also carried the walkie-talkie so we could stay in touch with the camera boat. We cruised out into Suwanee Canal. Rhonda and I went over points of my theory and evidence while the camera boat lagged behind or paced us. We got into a really good conversation. Jonathan finally told to shut up so they could get some shots of us. Every chance we got, we picked it up again.

 Off camera, we slowed down and broke out our cameras. Cecil talks about the history of the swamp. Rhonda takes a picture of the camera boat speeding ahead.

Oh, that was enough polling. Let’s chat some more. Cecil wants us to know he won’t lie. He only lies about his fishing; he tells people half of the amount he catches, because he knows they won’t believe anybody can catch as much as he can! 

Polling like in the old days. Cecil gets out his own homemade pole. He won’t go in for those modern poles. This is cut from a tree. In the old days, they used to pole through the swamp in canoes and use the poles for  balance. Cecil let me stick the poll into the peat bottom. It went deep in by several feet. I don’t know how to explain it, but the closest

Upstaged by a gator! Oh, well. The camera boat takes close-ups of some of the swamp’s local inhabitants. After this, they went on ahead until they disappeared. Jonathan’s voice crackled over the WT and told us to hang loose and have fun; they would contact us when they got into Grand Prairie.

Oops! Cecil’s mike chose to go dead. Jim is trying to resound him while Mike holds the boats close. I was still bugged. Cecil asked ‘’Are we still on?’’ When Jonathan said yes (BELOW), Cecil vented his feelings about how the swamp is changing.

Jonathan’s voice crackled over the WT. We pulled ahead and waited at the entrance to the Grand Prairie, then cruised in. Here we basked in an expansive prairie like none other. A single human being can make the ground move, and a stomp can cause trees to sway. The peat “prairie” is one example of the unstable ground which inspired the Indian word Okefenokee, “Land of Trembling Earth.”

The morning was beautiful, but it was really hot, sticky and humid. This must be around 7:30 a.m. We were out in the middle of no where. It’s like being in Africa or someplace mythical. This doesn’t look like any place you’d expect in the good ‘ol USA. It was completely silent, except for Ceece.

On the way back, the cameraboat stopped for some more scenic shots, and we also did some close ups. 

  The group at the local historic Okefenokee Restaurant in Folkston. The restaurant is a local gathering spot where all the ‘’old- timers’’ get together.
  The day before we had a prearranged meeting here with Jack Mays, former Folkston mayor and current official county historian, first since ‘’some lawyer up and died in the 1940s.’’ Cecil was there with us, as well as Alton Carter.

   They agreed to do the shoot, in order to present the history and character of the swamp. Cecil and Jack contacted a few others to round out the group. The next day, we were greeted by the above group. Seen here ABOVE are Jack Mays (at head of table); clockwise Austin Hickox, mayor of Homeland (father was a moonshiner in the swamp), David Glisson (the pilot who found a downed Navy jet in 1962), Alton Carter (with hat), Unidentified, Bill Chessar (an old family, after which are named many places in the swamp i.e. Chessar Island and Chessar Prairie), Unidentified, and Cecil Carter. Jonathan Grupper walks around setting up the scene.

  Each member to participate in the shoot is in his respective place. Jonathan said they could order anything and it was on him.  ‘’Hurry, let’s eat,’’ said Cecil, ‘’so we can order again.’’ The ribbing that went on between these guys was incredible! None could resist a poke at the other.  Alton wanted the country to know that ‘’we are not all rednecks down here that don’t where shoes . . .’’
  Cecil cut him off. ‘’You wore

  Cecil has the true “Okefenokee accent” and is very loquacious. He still complains, nonetheless, in his humorous way, how difficult it is to talk with part of his lung removed from cancer surgery.
   The restaurant was buzzing with onlookers as we had our lively discussion.  I made my case and fielded their questions.
   Jack was the most daring of the group. ‘’I think those planes are probably out in the Okefenokee.’’
  Alton introduced some spontaneous ribbing. ‘’You were wrong about everything when you were mayor, and you are wrong about this too.’’
  ‘’Cut that, cut that!’’ cried Jack, slicing his finger across his neck.
  Austin provided the finale: ‘’It’s been 55 years. It’s time the Navy looked in the Okefenokee!’’     

out your first pair of shoes from the inside-out cause your feet were so tough from barefoot walkin’ ‘’
   Each loved to correct the other as well.
   We had to get the shot ready fast. Jack just had his cigarette and would need another soon ‘’or I might die.’’

Whooping it up outside the Okefenokee Restaurant in Folkston, Georgia. Jack Mays was on stand-by for another scene. He told me some great stories as we wrapped up-- about being a night airplane spotter on the roof of the nearby courthouse building during the war. ‘’I was 14, 15 years old...It was a hell of a time after it was made  co-educational...’’
  I won’t elaborate.

Cecil wants more documentaries filmed on the swamp itself. Maybe, just maybe. It’s a fascinating story. He spoke about it in detail to Jonathan. We all made some new friends and had a good time...and learned alot about a fascinating moment in history and about a fascinating and little-known place in this country, the Okefenokee Swamp. This vast area may hold many secrets, perhaps undiscovered species of flowers and plants, perhaps, equally, the last moments of one of aviation’s greatest mysteries.

You get an impression from this photo of how long Suwanee Canal is. Okefenokee has about 121 miles of boat and canoe trails. These probably don’t even constitute 2% of the 660 square mile Refuge.

I can come is that it feels like the resistance of down feathers, soft and smooth. I could see how a heavy object, especially a plane, would disappear even in a few feet of water.

He becomes serious. He truly thinks it’s possible that all the planes of Flight 19 could disappear in the swamp over  night. He has aided NTSB searches for modern aircraft crashes. He knows how they get swallowed into the muck. It took 5 days to find one in 1978. They finally had to go over the FAA tracking tapes. They flew to where the tapes showed the transponder code ended. They looked down and only then saw a piece of the wing. Swamp boats investigated further. The mother was able to identify her daughter’s foot; the gators did for the rest. The pilot was never found.

We drifted to the banks for a closer look at titi (pronounced tye-tye). We will see later how this thick vegetation could play a crucial role in the disappearance of Flight 19.

Waiting, waiting. Jonathan, Sari and Chip   

 (Before I left California, I had spoken to Jack a couple of times over the phone. He is a real kick! I told him my theory about Flight 19. He was in the Navy at the time himself and found all this fascinating. I asked him to track down any old shiners in those parts, since some may have come across debris without knowing what it was. He said he would play it close to the vest and let me know. As owner of 2 radio stations, including WOKF in Folkston, plus having his own article in the paper, he added all these would be at our disposal. When it came time to put out the word, he announced it over the radio and wrote a web article as owner of charltoncounty.com. It stirred up a lot of local interest. By the time I got there, any question I asked on aircraft wrecks identified me as ‘’the guy coming with the History Channel.’’)

The camera boat shoots ahead, BELOW, to get scenic shots. It was a beautiful morning!

The boats came along side and the crew had to get in close. Rhonda would explain how an airplane could vanish in just such an “open prairie” in the Okefenokee.

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