The wake at the Savannah Golf Club was extraordinary and very Sonny-like in every respect. It would have touched him warmly. He would have approved of everything … except the bill …
At a time like this, I am moved to recall a scene in Western North Carolina, with which I am familiar, where a Southern planter, an agribusiness titan who passed away, and his status warranted the presence of a Bishop.
When the Bishop showed up, the local minister who, shall we say, was not a man of letters, summoned the bishop and said. Look a Heah Bishop, we want you to do the sermon, I’m gonna do the eurology.
I hope my eurology does Sonny justice.
Those who have spent time within arm’s length of our beloved friend are keenly aware that he would not want us to muddle in melancholy or succumb to a maudlin atmosphere today. He would encourage us to put on a smiley face, raise a toast to the Dawgs and fill our hearts with pride and sing glory, glory to ole Georgia.
Oh, how we hate to see him go, but he lived such a great and good life, we generously thank God that he came our way.
He would want us to also raise a toast for the light side of life, where he resided so much of his days on earth. He would want us to sing hosannahs to Savannah and Athens, which were ultimate shrines for him.
I have such fond memories of spending time with the Seiler’s on Dutch Island … fishing with him, Remer Lane, Johnny Peters, and Uga on Sonny’s boat Silver Britches. Sonny was an expert fisherman and was eager to let me know I was so bad I had not yet reached rookie status.
I want to go on record, however, that I drank as much beer as they did.
When we returned to the dock, Sonny cleaned the fish and Cecilia prepared them with a recipe that would have turned the heads of seasoned chefs in the French Quarter.
Those were memorable times as any social outing was with Herr Seiler. Sonny was about living life to the fullest, and it was a privilege to tag along.
He was something of a Renaissance man. He was a gardener, an angler, a lawyer, historian, an author, a researcher, a Budweiser aficionado, an exalted raconteur, and practical joker.
He practiced law with the commitment of a Perry Mason, and fished with a flair that would have brought a tip of the cap from Mark Trail. He never did anything halfhearted.
He loved golf at the Savannah golf club, which he would remind you was the oldest golf club in America. I once told him I had a PhD friend in Scotland whose research indicated that since golf clubs were shipped to Darien a few years earlier that golf might have first been played in Darien before Savannah.
Sonny considered that blasphemy.
Convincing him that the Darien possibility might have meri … would be like getting Marjorie Taylor Greene to invite President Biden to dinner.
Without question, Sonny was one of the most loyal and devoted ambassadors ever to represent the University of Georgia. He and Ceclia truly gave of themselves to the Uga’s and saw to it, along with Swann, Bess, Sara, and Charles, that no all-white male bulldog on earth ever experienced greater tender loving care than the University of Georgia mascot.
They truly loved Uga and wanted him to be the best appreciated mascot in America. I think they succeeded. Uga’s photo on the cover of Sports Illustrated in the magazine’s heyday was an enduring highlight for Sonny and the family. And it will last forever.
We can’t bid Sonny adieu without recalling the infamous Robert Baker incident. You remember the Auburn receiver who scored on Georgia in the SEC’s first overtime game… Baker pranced into the end zone and subsequently taunted Uga with the ball. As Uga leaped menacingly in Baker’s direction to the full extension of the leash which Charles was holding, a young female photographer, with the Montgomery Advertiser, snapped one of the classic photos in SEC history, Baker retreating like a TCU defensive back.
You may know the story.
The Advertiser got so many requests for prints of that photo that the newspaper literally wore out the negative. When the young photographer told that to Sonny, he said that he was surprised that that many Georgia people would buy a print of the scene.
She replied, “Oh Mr. Seiler, it was the Alabama people who ordered those prints.”
Have you noticed everybody wants to hug Uga, including adult men …
Kids adore Uga, and the Seiler’s have always been generous with kids in the neighborhood and especially at the UGA Georgia Center in Athens. You see them walking Uga under the canopy of the giant pecan trees that line the property. Fans, including those from the opposing team, stop Uga for a photograph and a hug.
By the way, would you want to hug the Michigan wolverine, the Colorado Buffalo, Albert and Alberta, the Florida alligators, the LSU Bengal Tiger, the California Bear? And if your mascot is an insect, how do you show it off? In a vial?
The Seiler’s have shared the mascots with the Georgia faithful as much as possible. However, they never commercialized the mascot, they never have used him for any sort of profit.
We can’t find enough superlatives to adequately lionize our accomplished friend who had more friends across the state than anybody I know. Being a lawyer connected him to so many and Uga was a classic companion and attraction, but Sonny was good to his friends and reached out to anyone with feelings for the Red and Black.
He was a neat man.
He looked like he stepped out of GQ when was in a business mode. He managed his office, gameday and personal life by underscoring class in every affiliation or undertaking.
Nobody has ever represented the institution with a greater love, loyalty, and commitment.
We bid him farewell, hoping that he is now reunited with Cecelia and Uga’s I through IX on that Dooley Field in the Great Beyond.
We will always remember Sonny as the ultimate and eternal Damn Good Dog.
Goodbye loyal friend.