Remembering Augusta Musician Larry Jon Wilson
I met Larry Jon Wilson, gone 15 years next week, at the KICKS 99 studios on Martintown Road in North Augusta many years ago. Actually, I heard him before I…

An autographed album presented to the author by Larry Jon Wilson, a few years prior to the singer's death in 2010.
I met Larry Jon Wilson, gone 15 years next week, at the KICKS 99 studios on Martintown Road in North Augusta many years ago. Actually, I heard him before I met him. One morning while I was in my office, I heard a deep southern voice in the hall - “WhoBah, WhoBah” - clearing his throat and a couple more “WhoBahs.”
Larry Jon was warming up his big, deep, smothered-in-Southern voice to narrate another episode of "More Georgia Backroads" for Georgia Public Television in our studios.
I had no idea who he was. I assumed he was just a voice guy PBS hired.
He would come in weekly and one day someone in the building said, “You know who that is, don’t you?” I had to do some research. You see, Larry Jon Wilson would never mention he was a part of music history. Our chats had been our mutual love for travelling the South’s backroads.
I would soon discover he was part of the outlaw country movement that happened in the 1970s, and how he was not a big fan of how Nashville worked at the time.
He told me about parties where he would hang out with Kris Kristofferson, Cher, and other legends. He wouldn’t brag, just tell the stories the same way old friends might talk about baseball and the weather.
He told me he found out early on about Nashville and knew he didn’t want to be a part of something where the lawyers make more than the artists.
“Every time a record label comes calling, the buzzards start circling the house,” he was quoted as saying.
He wrote and sang his music his way, and didn’t concern himself with commercial success. Songs like “Ohoopee River Bottom Land” and “Sheldon Churchyard” reflected his love of storytelling, the landscapes he called home, and the places history and introspection collide.
In South Georgia there's a river called the Ohoopee River/
And my people been living down there, making love and war and babies/
And liquor for about 285 or 90 years/
And in the meantime, they've corrupted Ohoopee to become, uh, the hoopee
Larry Jon and I had some conversations about the Lowcountry of South Carolina and Georgia. He loved those areas, and I loved my road trips on the backroads. He and I talked about taking a day trip. He said he could take me to some cool places he knew about. Time got in our way and that trip never happened, but I still think about our conversations to this day.
In particular, I think about him every time I pass the Sheldon Church ruins in Yemassee. Larry Jon wrote a song about it. Today, because of vandalism, there’s a fence around the ruins. I know Larry Jon would not like that. He talked about the mystery and history of the place in the distinctive spoken intro to the tune.
“Down in coastal South Carolina there's a very old county, with some very old customs... root doctor people that put spells on, supposedly, and lawmen that lift them off, supposedly,” he said “I met a root doctor lady down there that became my friend. Met her in an old church ruin, in an old place called the Sheldon Churchyard.”
Famous for converting fans to friends, many musicians have claimed a real comradery with Larry Jon. He was, in many ways, a musician’s musician. Local singer-songwriter Joe Stevenson said spending time with him was something of a gift – one he misses.
“I came to realize pretty quickly that spending time with Larry Jon never felt long in the moment—but somehow five hours would pass before you knew it,” he said. “He was a natural storyteller, and time just slipped by.”
Stevenson recalled accepting an invitation to accompany Larry Jon to the legendary Randy Woods Guitars in Bloomington, Georgia. He said what began as an excuse to spend a few hours with his friend resulted in one of his most prized possessions.
“When we got to the shop, I had brought my guitar because I needed a few adjustments,” he said. “Larry Jon ended up leaving it there for me because he wanted to have my initials added into the neck in mother-of-pearl inlay. I still have that guitar, and it means a lot to me.”
A true Georgia legend. We miss you, Larry Jon.
“I don’t like to talk about the good ol’ days that much, but I hope y’all have some good ol’ days like I do.”
Larry Jon Wilson
Watch Larry Jon Wilson in action in this clip from the 1981 outlaw country documentary ‘Heartworn Highways’.