The real mayor of Barnard Street
Conversations with Tony, a resident of the neighborhood for 50 years
Nestled along Barnard Street, between an Airbnb and two-story house with peeling green paint is a squat, out-of-place concrete structure that seems perpetually occupied. People are usually sitting and chatting by the door, walking casually in and out of the wide-open entryway. Cigarette smoke seeps out in a constant stream, accompanied by the tinny sound of a TV, or sometimes, older R&B in the vein of the Commodores or Marvin Gaye. This is Tony’s Man Cave, and everyone is welcome.
I noticed the liveliness of Tony’s place pretty soon after I moved into the neighborhood. In the warmer months, the ringleader himself was usually sitting on the vinyl booth outside, ready with his bright and broken smile. I got used to taking out my earbuds as I approached, because I knew he would be there for some small talk. After a few of these encounters, we exchanged names and he made sure to tell me that I was welcome anytime. He introduced himself not just as Tony, but as “Mayor of Barnard Street.” He’s as solid a civic leader as I’ve met in the neighborhood.
My first visit inside the Man Cave, I was immediately offered a Busch. Tony laughed when I offered to bring Sam Adams. According to him, “Black people don’t drink no Sam Adams.” Fair enough. As a young white woman, I do stick out amongst the usual Man Cave visitors, most of whom are older Black people. Tony can pick up on my slight discomfort, I think, because he quickly tells me “stop being so polite.” He tells me he will be cursing, and I should feel free to do the same.
When asked what’s changed the most about Barnard in the five decades he’s lived here, Tony was quick with an answer:
“All the white folks moved in.”
Tony’s childhood home, the green house next door, is the only property he owns in the area now, which he says he receives offers on about once a month. Despite being a former landlord of several other properties, including some on Brady Street, Tony doesn’t have much patience for landlords steeply increasing rental prices in the area.
“Landlords don’t pay that much,” he proclaimed when we were discussing reasons for the recent spike in rent in the 31401 zip code. According to Tony, it was about 10-15 years ago when the majority-Black neighborhood’s character began to change. Prior to that, he said, most of the houses weren’t as well-preserved, and would cost below $200,000.
“They found out all this property here was ‘historical,’ so they all migrated back here and took everything,” he said of the “white folks.”
This migration wave particularly stings for Tony because he can trace his ancestry back to landowners in the now-wealthy Richmond Hill neighborhood. In his early childhood, he said the same pattern had happened, causing his family to move to Barnard Street in the first place.
He is resolute it will not happen to him here, however.
“They really don’t want our ass here,” he said, but he makes this statement with a hint of laughter. It’s clear that as wounded as Tony is by the “harassment” he receives from wealthier landowners that aren’t as enchanted by his rotating cast of mostly Black visitors, he enjoys being a thorn in their side, and continuing to exert his influence on the neighborhood he grew up in. He does mourn the loss of his Brady Street block party, which he said was shut down a few years ago due to its supposed rowdiness.
He feels insulted at times by young, typically white Savannah College of Art and Design students walking by who avoid his house, and theorizes that the administration of SCAD advises students to stay away from the Black Savannah locals.
“If they see a crowd of Black people sitting on the sidewalk, they’ll walk out onto the street,” he said.
Nevertheless, he reaches out to students living nearby and builds community if he can.
“We got to learn to get along with each other, race, creed or color.”
He tells me enthusiastically about how over the years, he’s befriended many students, and his favorite memories are when their parents come to visit him. A long-time truck driver, he’s also good with mechanics, and said he had a side hustle for a while maintaining clueless students’ cars. Working on cars on the street, however, was another thing he was dinged for by neighbors and city code enforcers.
If the Falcons aren’t playing, his TV is typically tuned to MSNBC. During our first beer, Sen. Raphael Warnock, elected to represent Georgia in 2020, popped onto the screen. Tony proudly tells me Warnock grew up in public housing in Savannah. We stopped to watch him speak on voting rights.
“I get nervous about where the country is politically, about the next election,” I confided.
Tony laughed at me; he’s not worried. Things, in his estimation, are getting better. He has complaints about the rising rents on the street, and frustrations with the way his behavior has been policed. But he also has a steady faith in his claim to the block.
“In essence, we’re not going nowhere.”
Barnard Street Tattler 