The new mayor of Tybee Island was familiar with hurricanes.
There’s even a manual for the proper response: how to evacuate, what to nail down, when to come back.
But a global pandemic. That’s new. “That’s something we haven’t seen before,” said Shirley Sessions.
The coronavirus outbreak was a lot to handle for the newcomer Sessions, who had been in office less than four months when the disease crossed into Georgia.
Then came the St. Patrick's Day debacle, and, following that, a fight with the governor, who opened the beaches and invited folks to visit the island right after Sessions and the city council had shut them all down.
The new mayor came out with both barrels blazing: “As the Pentagon ordered 100,000 body bags to store the corpses of Americans killed by the coronavirus, Governor Brian Kemp dictated that Georgia beaches must reopen,” an angry Sessions said in a statement posted on the city’s website.
Alarmed that the state was inviting visitors to Tybee, Sessions announced that the plywood barriers in front of the dune crossovers and the barricades in front of the parking lots would remain in place.
“I see cars coming in from New York and New Jersey,” she said recently. “People want to get away from that, but we don’t want them here.” Session’s diminutive height and spikey hair, along with her no-nonsense manner, give the impression of a banty hen that is not to be trifled with.
“She’s a badass,” said novelist Kathy Trocheck (a.k.a. Mary Kay Andrews), a part-time Tybee resident.
Though Tybeans were at first divided about shutting down the island's major means of economic survival, they rallied behind Sessions in their own quirky, obstreperous way, firing rude comments at the governor, protesting in hazmat suits on Lazaretto Bridge, holding signs with such slogans as "Kemp Kills."
“I admire Shirley,” said Glynn County Commission Chairman Michael Browning, who also closed his beaches only to have them reopened. “She stepped up to the plate. She handled it the way she believed it had to be handled for the residents of Tybee. You can’t ask for any more than that.”
Sessions, 72, is a transplant from Atlanta, where she grew up in Virginia Highland, attended Grady High School and worked for AT&T.
She and younger sister Sandy McCloud bought a weekend house on the island in 1994, and Sessions moved to Tybee full-time in 1998.
But Sessions is not new to Tybee politics. She was on the planning commission in 1999 and on the city council for nine non-consecutive years, starting in 2000, serving as mayor pro-tem for part of that time.
She might not have run for mayor if McCloud hadn’t goaded her into it.
“I rue the day,” said McCloud, a former radio news director who now sells real estate and also lives on Tybee. “I thought the worst thing she’d have to deal with would be a hurricane.”
Credit: Stephen B. Morton
Credit: Stephen B. Morton
But the COVID-19 crisis has made Sessions into a bit of a legend. The result, said McCloud, is the two are constantly interrupted in their strolls around town. “I can’t hardly walk with her; everybody is already always stopping her, saying, ‘You’re my hero! We love you! Run for congress! Run for governor!’”
The two work together on real estate as the Sold Sisters, and Sessions helps out as a roadie when her little sister performs with Sassy Cats and the Toms.
Sessions knows that she needs a peaceable relationship with Atlanta and the governor, and State Rep. Jesse Petrea (R-Savannah) said that the mayor and the governor are not that far apart. “Everybody is working toward the same goal here,” he said. “We want everybody safe and protected; that’s what our governor wants and what the mayor wants and what I want.”
Gov. Kemp said he wanted to give Georgians a way to get out of the house and "exercise" on the beach, though former Tybee mayor Walter Parker said exercise isn't what most beachgoers have in mind. "Most come down to enjoy the sun, bring the cooler, have a picnic."
Credit: Stephen B. Morton
Credit: Stephen B. Morton
Coolers and picnics are out. State troopers and rangers patrolling the shore instruct visitors that chairs, umbrellas and other equipment are not allowed, nor are groups of 10 or more, or close proximity. The governor sent the troopers when Sessions told representatives of his office that she didn’t want to put her public safety personnel at risk patrolling the beaches. (One member of the Tybee police force has already tested positive for COVID-19, and five more, plus a handful of public works staff have been quarantined.)
“You feel bad for the guys,” said Diane Kaufman, owner of the rental properties Mermaid Cottages, describing the troopers in full uniform, under the hot sun.
On April 8, Gov. Kemp barred short-term rentals through the end of the month, to help coastal communities such as Tybee and Brunswick fend off vacationers from out of state. But Sessions said “that ship has already sailed.” Most Tybee rental companies had already agreed to lock their doors said Kaufman, who closed down her properties at the end of March. “We all stood in solidarity.”
Sessions originally guided the city council to close the beaches after a particularly disastrous St. Patrick's Day weekend. In light of the expanding health crisis, Savannah had voted March 11 to cancel its legendary parade, but Tybee's council voted to move ahead with theirs. The mayor doesn't vote on such matters except to break a tie.
Then on Saturday, March 14, the day of Tybee’s parade, Gov. Kemp declared a state of emergency. That gave Sessions license to cancel the Tybee parade permit, which she did that morning.
Unfortunately, several units had already lined up on Butler Street, some of them bearing fellow city officials. A half-hearted remnant dribbled down the street, leaving some people embarrassed and some irritated.
On Sunday their annoyance faded when they observed crowds of teenagers drinking on the beach, pulling up sea oats and jumping off the Back River pier. On March 19 Sessions counted 20,000 visitors. “We projected that this was probably going to become a daily potential activity. The next day we closed the beach.”
Though the beaches have, in fact, been opened back up, cool weather, rain and a tornado have kept the crowds manageable, as have the state troopers.
Credit: Stephen B. Morton
Credit: Stephen B. Morton
But Sessions is on edge, considering that her town of 3,000 has an older, vulnerable population, no medical facilities and two nursing homes.
In the meantime, Tybee is seeking ways to soften the economic disaster of closed restaurants and empty rental units, partnering with the United Way of the Coastal Empire to start a rapid response fund to keep people in their homes and to keep their utilities on.
Sessions was in Atlanta during the Olympics and saw that the bombing at Centennial Olympic Park, though a tragedy, drew the city together. “After, there was a sense of celebration of life, of being able to say, ‘We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.’”
She believes that the COVID-19 crisis can have the same effect. “A lot of wonderful things have come out of this horrible nightmare,” she said. “But still there’s a lot we need to do.”
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