Did O'Cain leave buried treasure behind?
Photo shows Leonard O'Cain's fish market on Main Street in Folkston. Standing
around, gawking at the "Goatman," are many of Folkston's top business leaders. The floor of the fish market was thought to contain O'Cain's fortune.
From the early years of the 20th Century in Folkston, a legend developed. Leonard O'Cain, the town's "do everything" fish monger, ran his tiny fish market on the town's main street and did about anything else the town fathers and businessmen asked. He had migrated to Charlton County from the north, just after the turn of the century.
In 1912, when locals organized and opened the Citizens Bank, O'Cain was called upon to move a massive iron safe into the bank offices in what are now the law offices of John Adams and Kelly Brooks. Then it was the ground floor of Ben Scott's Arnold Hotel, named for Scott's young son, Arnold.
O'Cain gathered up a couple of helpers and moved the massive safe into the bank. It would serve as the bank's vault. O'Cain did just about everything Folkston businessmen asked. Just after the laborious task of setting up the bank's vault, locals learned that O'Cain had been charged in New York State with Peonage, charges stemming from forcing men to work to pay off their debt to him. The charges were later dropped.
O'Cain married a Charlton County girl, Genia Roddenberry, the young daughter of Johnny Roddenberry. Roddenberry owned the Roddenberry Hotel on Folkston's Main Street. In 1912, at the age of 42, O'Cain's young wife died of cancer before reaching her 42nd birthday. O'Cain and her parents sent her to the best medical facilities available at the time in an effort to save her life.
O'Cain mourned his young wife's death, and never remarried. He went about his business, working with logging crews in the Okefenokee, and later opening a tiny fish market on Folkston's Main Street. His fat dog, Buck, became a town mascot, lying unmoved on the town's sidewalks while pedestrians walked over or around him.
O'Cain built a local legend in that small shack that served as his fish market. The floors were dirt covered with sawdust and the smell of fish and shrimp permeated the air for blocks around O'Cain's Fish Market.
On one occasion, the town's banker, William Mizell went into the fish market. O'Cain had his back turned to the stodgy banker as Mizell asked, "Got any shrimp?" Without turning, O'Cain gruffly answered: "H--- no. I've got no shrimp. If I had shrimp you'd want fish." Mizell's face blushed as he turned and left the market, stumbling over Buck as he left. O'Cain learned later that his rude remarks were made to one of the most important men in town. It bothered him but little.
O'Cain, usually impeccable dressed in a black suit, and wearing a bow tie, saw his fish market a gathering place for the town's elderly and retired. He built a bench which he placed in front of his fish market for them to while away the hours.
Word circulated in the town that O'Cain had amassed a fortune working in the north, and adding to that fortune with proceeds from his local work and sales in his fish market.
In the 1960s, Leonard O'Cain died, an old man, but still running his tiny fish market. Quickly word spread that the old man's fortune was buried beneath the sawdust floor of his fish market. The talk reached a crescendo. So much so that leaders of the town took it upon themselves to see that the fortune was not taken by any of those who frequented the bench at the front of his fish market.
A local funeral director, a man of unquestioned honesty was sought to oversee the search for O'Cain's fortune. Charlie F. Adkins was put in charge of a shovel brigade to unearth any buried treasure that might be beneath the well-worn sawdust. For hours three men with shovels moved the sawdust from the floor and onto the town's Main Street. Crowds watched as shovel after shovel dashed the sawdust onto the sidewalk and street.
Hours went by. All the sawdust was removed. Then the shovel bearers began removing the dirt. Many thought any shovel load would unearth a buried box containing hundreds of thousands dollars. It was all to no avail. Nearly three feet of dirt was removed from the entire floor of the little fish market. No treasure was found.
Not convinced that O'Cain had not died a rich man, talk began to circulate that some of those who frequented O'Cain's bench had found his treasure after his death, and absconded with it before the shovel brigade began it's chore.
The run-down little fish market was finally torn down as well as the dilapidated two-story white home next door. That two-story white house, known as the "Johnson House" was at one time Folkston's Post Office, with the postmaster living there.
Today a brick building occupies the space that once was known as "O'Cain's Fish Market. Seldom do the older settlers even mention the name "Leonard O'Cain." Still there are those who will swear that the old man had amassed a fortune, and speculate where it might have ended up.
Through much of Charlton County's colorful Twentieth Century, the legend of Leonard O'Cain prevailed. In a small funeral he was buried beside his wife who preceded him in death by a half-century. The grave of Genia O'Cain is marked with a tall marble monument in Folkston's Pineview Cemetery, but nothing is there to identify the final resting-place of her husband. Leonard O'Cain, in his lifetime, became one of the colorful characters of Folkston and Charlton County in the Twentieth Century.
