By James Calemine
Reading through Webster’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable today, I realized everyone loves a folk hero. I thought of Georgia folk legends. Charles ‘Ches’ McCartney–known by many as The Goat Man–came to mind. McCartney earned folk hero status before he died in a Macon, Georgia, nursing home at ninety-two in 1998.
A native of Iowa, McCartney ran off to New York City at fourteen where he sold newspapers. He married a Spanish woman ten years older than him. He served as her target in their knife-throwing routine.
McCartney returned to Iowa after he lost everything in the Depression. Inspired by Robinson Crusoe, McCartney set out with his wife and son in a rickety iron-wheeled wagon pulled by nine goats. Eventually, he owned forty goats.
McCartney suffered many beatings on the road. One night in Chattanooga, Tennessee, McCartney was mugged. The marauders killed eight of his goats and left him bleeding with a gash in his head that took twenty seven stitches to close. Some legends maintained bad luck befell anyone who harmed the legendary “Goat Man”. Another rumor drifted around that he sold his wife for $1000.
McCartney sold postcards, trinkets and other novelties to earn cash. On Sundays, he preached. He gathered crowds in whatever town he visited, and was known to be quite friendly. He could be seen reading his Bible by a kerosene lamp at his campsite.
In 1960, The Goat Man aspired to run for president. He claimed he would not play golf and take extravagant vacations, but he would work for the American people. The goat man married three times. He fathered three more children.
McCartney established his homebase in Twiggs County Georgia, in a little town called Jeffersonville. He loved to travel on Highway 80 from Macon to Savannah. He searched for anything to sell along the way. Another favorite route of McCartney’s counted as roads connecting Waycross, Georgia, to Jacksonville, Florida. In forty years, he never slept in a bed or a house. He never had running water. He never owned a TV. They say he smelled worse than his goats. His diet consisted mostly of goat’s milk.
Darryl Patton wrote a book about McCartney titled America’s Goat Man. In Cormac McCarthy’s classic novel, Suttree, a character resembling McCartney passes through the story. McCartney made an impression on Georgia writer Flannery O’Connor who mentioned The Goat Man in a couple of her letters.
In the 1980s, McCartney became enamored with the actress Morgan Fairchild. He walked to California to marry her. In Los Angeles, he suffered another terrible beating that ended his travels. By the time McCartney moved into a Macon nursing home in 1987, he attained cult hero status.
Before his death, McCartney told a writer from a Middle Georgia publication what he learned on the road: “They are worldly goods. And worldly goods don’t amount to nothing. The body and mind go back to dust. But the spirit–it goes on forever.”
Old timers in almost in all 50 states remembered the Goat Man traveling through their town. But, not many.
Here’s to Charlie McCartney– an American folk hero.
I have a picture that was taken by Ches McCartney in Winston Salem NC. I was four years old. The Goat man came to our door and told my mother that for a certain amount of money (small pittance I think) he would take a childs picture sitting in his goat wagaon. My mother thought I looked like Shirley Temple, so she made a deal with Ches to come back in an hour. Then
she took me upstairs and got out those painful metal curlers that most likely were the ones Shirley Temple used an set my hair in curls. Sure enough right on time he appeared again and took my picture standing by his goat and the wagon. I had that picture copied into my phone I have shown it so many times in my 91 years! It is a great and clear photo but what I cannot understand, who developed his pictures so that I have this one? The original was a 4×6 black and white and I still have that one too. It is a treasure. Some years ago my late sister sent me a tee shirt with a picture of Ches and his goats on it. He indeed was a colorful man…what do I think? I think that once a year, or five years, those of us alive should have a reunion somewhere down south, NC or Georgia, to bring momentos of Ches and his goats and to tell stories of how and when we all met him the first time…I live in California, but believe me, should someone organize such a reunion, I would be there!
Joan McNeill Dimmitt, Laguna Woods California !