Friends Old, New, and Soon to Be,
I’ve wanted to attend the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition in Charleston, South Carolina for years but life has conspired against me, a bitter pill for a man who loves art and makes his life and living around dogs, shotguns, and outdoors folk. SEWE is the nation’s largest “celebration of the great outdoors through fine art, live entertainment, and special events” put on by a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated the conservation of wildlife and the environment and education about the same.
This year I was blessed to be invited to SEWE to “walk around and see what you think.” That kind of open-ended opportunity is too good to pass up for a writer. So, I did what any gracious, if wholly shameless, guest does and said, “Thanks, I’d love to. Can I bring a friend?” Thus did Captain Seth Vernon and I head south from Wilmington, North Carolina on a Thursday afternoon.
Four hours later we arrived at the Hyatt Place on King Street in the historic district, parking Seth’s 2012 Nissan Exterra, customized for a man who makes his living in a flats boat, beside a McLaren Senna. Self-parking is available at the Hyatt but garage clearance versus the roof top tent on Seth’s rig meant we had to valet. I had to laugh at the contrast of Seth’s purposefully accessorized rig, offering solutions for problems ranging from marauding brigands to the need for a cold beer while he removes a hook from your palm, parked next to a car that cost more than my house. One could perseverate on the notion of haves and have nots, but as a guy who drives a pick up that smells like whatever my Labrador Jed swam through that day, it was an illustration of the pull the sporting life exerts on us all, a feeling celebrated annually at SEWE by 40,000 attendees from all walks of life who annually bring $33 million dollars to Charleston and wildlife conservation.
Seth and I were out the door within an hour of checking in, walking to Leon’s Oyster Shop at the invite of Jeff Parrott, a man helping revive the legacy of the Stitzel-Weller Distillery, a venerated Louisville, Kentucky landmark that ceased operations in 1992, via the Blade and Bow label. Enjoying Parrott’s hospitality in an intimate part of Leon’s called The Oyster Shed, it hardly seemed gracious to ignore his Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey and a Twenty-two-Year-Old Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey. I’m essentially a teetotaler now, but the cast of my net was wide in the old days. Both bottles offer a much smoother ride to a pleasantly warm finish than any other bourbon I’ve had, a lovely way to offset Leon’s best-I’ve-ever eaten oysters.
Living on the NC coast, I love an oyster roast with the smell of woodsmoke, steaming burlap, and hot steel, the informality of conversations at a shucking table, and the bite of cool fall evenings offset by fire and warm oyster shells. But the truth is, I don’t love oysters. I am good for about three, on saltines and slathered in hot sauce, before I volunteer to shuck for other folks. Leon’s Char-Grilled Oysters, treated with lemon, parsley, butter, and parmesan may have changed that. They have a fullness of taste I’ve never experienced, a presence. Somehow, all the flavors of Leon’s oysters are simultaneously front and center, each one making you want another.
An oyster roast is a social event, and South Carolina is America’s biggest small town. Talking to one person leads to another who knows someone you both know and someone they need you to meet. Speaking with Brooks Geer of Sewee Outpost, the man behind a place Seth pointed out on our way down as the must stop for anglers and hunters on US 17, he introduced me to a writer named Stratton Lawrence with whom he'd kayaked the Black River. I meant to stay an hour. Seth and I walked out after three and a half.
Friday morning brought us Paul Consolo, a long-time PGA golf professional and the owner of luxury sea, air, and land transportation concierge Old Village Transportation. A fellow waterfowler and saltwater fly fisherman, Consolo gave Seth and I sporting insights to the Lowcountry as we rode to breakfast in one of his premium Grand Wagoneers. By the time we’d arrived at our restaurant, I was contemplating how many words I would have to write to pay for a charter jet to a duck hole next year and Seth had Consolo planning to join him to chase redfish in Wrightsville Beach’s marsh flats.
A luxury ride to breakfast is about as good a start to a day as I can imagine, so long as the restaurant is equal to the ride. Lillian’s Petite Market and Eatery met the challenge. Waffle House is my default eatery, but offered what I call “jumped up Southern,” I say yes as reflexively as I draw a breath. Biscuits and gravy teased with sea salt and the “Meat” bowl of grits, loaded with thick cut bacon, the kind where the fat is smoky candy, house sausage, and cheddar cheese fueled me for a full day of walking once Paul Consolo dropped us at Charleston Place to marvel at the work of 380 wildlife artists.
Wandering the fine art display and meeting the artists was a SEWE high point. For me, the peak was the Quick Draw event, in which stunningly talented artists produce a piece of art in one hour as crowds look on. The works are immediately auctioned to the benefit of SEWE. The excitement of watching people bid thousands of dollars is great fun, with the auctioneer’s machinegun patter driving bid amounts ever upward, “I have a thousand now do I have a thousand-half? Thousand-half would you go eleven hundred? Yes! Eleven-fifty now who’s going twelve hundred?”
Atlanta’s Jared Knox, in his first year at SEWE, produced a yellow lab holding a quail that went for $3100. I wanted it the moment I saw it, but not quite as much as I didn’t want to surprise my wife with a $3100 debit. Virginian David Turner’s “Mourning Dove II” went for $3300 months before it will be cast in bronze, unsurprising for a man whose work resides in museums and presidential collections. 2023 SEWE Featured Artist Ryan Kirby of Boone, North Carolina generated “Fast and Furious,” a single pheasant that sold for $4700. I am still agog at what he did in an hour. Dirk Walker, an Alabama banker and bird hunter turned fine artist, brought “Turkey Talk” to the stage. It quickly left for $2700. For me bids like that are an extravagance, but not so exorbitant I would not save money for a bid next year. Acquiring original art, still warm from the artist’s touch appeals to me, especially when it goes to conservation. It's another kind of hunt, and though the game is different, at SEWE it occurs among artists who are fellow hunters.
The art is not limited to Charleston Place. Seth and I headed back to King Street and The Sportsman’s Gallery where owner Michael Paderewski and Mike Floyd, Editor of Gray’s Sporting Journal, had opened the doors. Seth and I circulated, greeting old friends and meeting new ones while looking at one of the South’s finest sporting art collections, the frames focusing rather than constraining the passion exuded by artists who live the lives they capture. Heading farther down King Street to Grady Ervin, Charleston’s classic gentlemen’s clothier, we joined our friends from Tom Beckbe at a party characterized by stories of fish caught, dogs trained, and hunting trips past and upcoming. I met Kirk Parker, owner of Wildrose Carolinas in Mebane, NC. Jed and I train weekly with a friend and his Wildrose Lab, Isla. She’s a fine dog and I was excited to receive an invitation to visit the source before discussing the state of sporting writing with Doug Barnes of Ducks Unlimited.
Having stayed with my friends at Tom Beckbe till the caterers were eyeing us, wondering when we might leave, I would have been happy to collapse into bed at the Hyatt. But Seth and I had tickets to the 28th Annual Ducks Unlimited Oyster Roast and Lowcountry Cookout. It’s a signal event for SEWE and a major fundraiser for conservation. We got there late, with the auction in full swing, and surveyed the scattered remains of countless bushels of oysters supplied by Lowcountry Oyster Company. But there was tri-tip steak to be had, with a new Kinder’s Brazilian rub that was honestly one of the best things I put in my mouth over the course of the weekend. Carnivore that I am, I unabashedly asked for seconds. Sated on beef, we headed back to the Hyatt.
Saturday dawned more slowly. Seth and I took breakfast at the Hyatt before a meander around Brittlebank Park with our friends Grayson and Kristin Guyer of Lost Highway Gundogs and fellow sportsman and writer, Oliver Hartner. In addition to vendors, outfitters, guides, and conservation organizations of interest to any adherent to the sporting life, Brittlebank offers dogs. I am a sucker for dogs and with plenty of canines jumping, splashing, herding, and retrieving, Brittlebank was my happy place. Even someone inexplicably averse to dogs can watch flyfishing demonstrations, eat good food, and enjoy good music. I could have made a day of Brittlebank, and next year I will. But Seth and I had the equivalent of backstage passes waiting at Lewis Barbecue and I am not one to miss a meal, particularly when it means pounds of smoked meat.
Lewis is a Texas smokehouse, focused on brisket rather than the whole hog I grew up on so I asked Lewis front of the house manager Nick Sawa for a tray of his choosing. Waiting for his return, we made small talk with a man and woman seated with us at the bar who assured us we were in the right place, saying, “There’s a video of our neighbor crying because [Lewis was] closed during a hurricane.” Nick returned with hand selected cuts of fat-glistening, red rimed brisket, sausage made from brisket trimmings, and tallow fries cooked in the rendered fat. Smoked turkey and the meatiest beef ribs I’ve eaten sat amongst macaroni and cheese, pickled onions, slaw, and a hatch green chile corn pudding. Lewis features sauces to please the most partisan eaters: vinegar, tomato, a proprietary secret sauce, and one made from the Hatch green chiles in the corn pudding. That one was so delicious I took it home and have applied it to pulled pork, turkey sandwiches, and over rice. I topped it all off with a “dirt pie,” essentially chocolate pudding, whipped cream, and oreo crumbles. It was not a meal for the faint of heart or elevated of cholesterol, but I can think of countless worse ways to go.
Touring the smokehouse equipped with four massive smokers, Nick told us Lewis is the number one purchaser of brisket in the Southeastern United States, smoking 250,000 pounds of brisket and 8,500 turkeys annually. It’s my kind of place and I was sad to leave as I felt I’d found more friends. But we had friends yet to make.
At the Garden and Gun Magazine offices, we watched as Editor in Chief Dave DiBenedetto chatted on stage with painter and fly fisherman Paul Puckett, a friend, fine artist, and fishing buddy of Seth’s. From there we headed to Highwire Distilling, producer of a bourbon whiskey made of Jimmy Red corn grown on nearby James Island, and a party sponsored by the South Carolina Department of Agriculture. With South Carolina produce and meats at the fore, and a guest list of writers, editors, and land and aquaculture farmers, the conversation was fascinating. I learned about kangaroo farming, oyster farming, and how South Carolina’s cuisine reaches the rest of the world. It was a lot to consider as I drifted off to sleep that final night.
The Hyatt Place gave us lovely accommodations offering walking access to much of the bounty of art, sporting culture, conservation support, and simple good times on offer at SEWE. As a result, I was not there much, but a good hotel is about being whatever you need, whenever you need it, and the Hyatt delivered. Checking out with smiles on our faces, we were homeward bound by way of Rancho Lewis, the Tex-Mex partner restaurant to Lewis Barbecue. Blending West Texas, Chihuahuan Mexican, and New Mexican cuisine, Hatch green chiles are at the forefront. Seth had a Christmas Burrito stuffed with red chile pork, charro beans, and cheese, smothered with red and green chile and topped with Mexican cheeses. I had a delicious Green Chile Steak Burger and contemplated a long nap on the way home after a thank you text to Texas native Paul Puckett.
There are countless reasons to attend the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition. It’s fun. It’s got something for all ages, economic options, and interest levels in the outdoors. It’s in one of America’s best, most scenic, and oldest cities. But most importantly, it’s a single weekend that offers support to the lives we love year-round, a chance to commune with like-minded sportspeople, and protect the species that make the natural world what it is. I hope to see you next year. I’ll be the guy with the barbecue sauce on his shirt.
Yours,
Russell Worth Parker
Editor-in-Chief, Tom Beckbe Field Journal
