The Fort Fisher Hermit

Older Comments on The Fort Fisher Hermit

• Posted 04/06/11 by Pastor Brian
  Time has now unfolded to the point where we are able to see this murder as having the signs of criminal activity conducted by those with a commercial interest and those holding human-made-government office positions.
• Posted 02/09/11 by Chelle Raynor
  When I was a child we spent our vacations at Carolina Beach. We would always go visit the Hermit. Between the ages of 5 to 10, I remember sharing our picnic lunch with him. He was a man that talked about God, and I remember him telling us kids to always have faith in God. When we thought we were by ourselfs God was always with us. He loved our Carolina Packers hotdogs. Bless his soul, he was a man of great nature. May he RIP, and whom ever done this to him, may they know in their heart that they took the life of a wonderful person....
• Posted 08/15/10 by Vera
  Some 50 years ago at age 20, I met The Hermit. My husband loved to drink and so did The Hermit. Hubby would lower the air pressure in our car tires and rode in the sand to the bunker. There, the two of them drank and he told stories. Frankly, I was scared being down there at midnight (that is usually when we'd go down), a young girl that could only think what awful things might happen. They never did. I don't remember the stories now but was fascinated that this old man had a lot to tell. He seemed to have his right mind. We all dug clams; got oysters and drug a shrimp net. We'd take some potatoes and we'd have quite a feast by the firelight. I think it was the hood of an old car that was there and we'd put the oysters and clams on it to steam. They used toe sacks (burlap bags) and soak them in the ocean water and cover the feast to steam. Some old pots boiled the shrimp in the water after we'd boiled some potatoes. Years later, I'd wished that I'd gotten to know him better. But, alas, life went on and I left NC. He'd pull his little red wagon to Kure and pick up flour, cornmeal .. of course a bit of liquor. He even grew some veggies. He was always glad when someone gave him a ride. He'd pick up bottles alont the way and turn them in for the 5 cent deposit. Everyone that I ever saw there gave him a bit of money. How he survived is beyond my comprehension. It was his strength, belief in God and friendship that seemed to keep him going. God bless The Hermit for all that he attempted to teach.
• Posted 12/11/09 by A Man Amoung Boys
  This is all to a familiar tale of Southern Justice and the Good Ole Boys. A man who suffered great loss and abuse could not just live in peace but had to be tortured and killed and then covered up. I too do not see this man as a hermit but someone who could see the illness of our society and knew the difference between life and death. We all work ourselves to death and then envy someone who do not live up to (or down to - which ever your case may be) his standards. A memorial should be erected in this mans honor to prevent his life from being as meaningless as his death.