Community mourns the loss and celebrates the life of a true Folly original
by Matt Poust | Contributing Writer
If you’ve spent much time on Folly Beach over the past few decades, chances are you’ve crossed paths with Bubba Seal.
Maybe it was the unmistakable pirate’s “Arrrggghhh!” echoing from his bicycle as he pedaled through town. Maybe it was his trademark farewell—”Take the rest of the day off.” Or maybe you knew him through a plate of butterfly fried shrimp, a neighborhood cookout or an afternoon that somehow turned into an all-night party.
However you knew him, Bubba was one of those rare people who didn’t just live on Folly Beach, but became a permanent fixture in its way of life.
Seal, affectionately known as the “Folly Beach Pirate,” died July 12 at the age of 71. Though he grew up in Virginia, Bubba found his home on Folly some forgotten time ago, where he spent decades living by what could be drummed up as an easy living philosophy: good friends, good food and good times.
His home on Sandbar Lane, titled properly as “Bubba’s Sandbar Lane Social Club,”was filled with music playing, friends stopping by and something cooking. If you were lucky, Bubba might even lower you a sample from his balcony using one of his clever makeshift transport methods.
While it would be a futile attempt to tie a career to a man who lived by his own terms, the calling that resounds loudest from those who knew Bubba best was as a chef.
He worked in kitchens throughout the Charleston area, including LoLo’s, where a memorial sign was hung in his honor. Friends also recalled his stories as a catering chef in Charlotte, where he prepared meals backstage for rockstars including AC/DC, Journey and Elton John.
During his time on Folly, however, the cooking Bubba did was remembered less as a profession and more as an act of fellowship.
His butterfly fried shrimp, crab cakes, chicken wings and ham and bean soup on a cold day became neighborhood favorites. He was even known to empty out a freezer when a party called for it or hurricanes forced those around him to hunker down to ensure no one went hungry.
“My favorite memories are him always greeting my dog Artemus, aka Arte, with a welcoming ‘Arrrrte!’” Gary Carmichael recalled. “He was an excellent cook that lowered us samples of food from the balcony above by Ziplock bag, line and clothespin. Cakes, shrimp, wings—whatever it was, it was delicious. A very clever fella that made an impression on anyone fortunate enough to meet him.”
That same creativity showed up everywhere else in Bubba’s life.
Discarded items left on curbs around Folly found a way to be repurposed if Bubba found them first. Broken grills, old vacuum cleaners and rundown beach cruisers all found a new life under his hands – the beach cruisers most important as they acted as his main mode of transportation after selling his car early into his stint on Folly.
Even the neighborhood squirrels became a part of his resourceful creativity.
Neighbor Kelly West fondly remembered Bubba’s never-ending attempts to outsmart the furry thieves who raided his bird feeder. Pie pans, grease poles, water guns and retrievable tethered tennis ball grenades all had their turn. Watching the daily contest, West said, felt like watching Bill Murray’s battle with the gopher in Caddyshack.
Of course when you lead the life of a good time man like Bubba there’s bound to be the party. Whether it be with a few glasses of Jacquine’s Rum or an all out neighborhood blockfest, Bubba specialized in those as well.
Longtime friend Mark Simon remembered one Fourth of July celebration at Bubba’s apartment that lasted until mid-October… Oyster shell tosses, balcony golf, dart tournaments, ring toss competitions, even a swimming pool perched on the balcony, all fueled by good company and more than a few cocktails.
“Bubba, a.k.a. Beverly Seal, Bubba Lowinski, Bond Bubba Bond,” Simon referenced humorously. “He held many positions—crab man, cook and first mate of the Chateau El Relaxo Yacht Club. Along with hearts, the mold was broken after this guy left us.”
Tying his life’s rituals together, it would be remiss not to mention the late great Jimmy Buffett when speaking on the late great Bubba. Buffett’s music provided the soundtrack to the highlight reel that was his way of life and it’s not hard to draw the connections as to why — A Pirate Looks At … Folly?
Longtime friends and neighbors Nancy Hildebrand and Johnny Haithcock touched on Bubba’s affection for Buffett, recounting the shows caught from local coverbands, the guitar pick that may still be in his wallet from a show caught in Oklahoma, and the toast made with a sixer of LandShark on the day the Tropical Troubadour died.
All things considered, those who knew Bubba best referred to his greatest gift as making sure everyone was welcome.
“I am going to miss Bubba so much—the talks, laughs, jokes, parties, every bit of it,” West said. “Life will not be the same without Bubba, but we promise to keep his spirit in the sky alive and well on Sandbar Lane.”
Perhaps that’s the lasting legacy of Folly’s Pirate. Not memorable because he sought attention, but unforgettable because he made ordinary days feel extraordinary.
Like many local legends before him, Bubba leaves behind no monument of brick or bronze – only the stories traded on porches, around cookouts and over cold drinks as the sun sets over Folly.
And somewhere, if his friends are right, there’s probably a party still going—one where the food is hot, the music is Buffett, the rum is flowing and Bubba is greeting everyone with a booming “Arrrggghhh!” before reminding them, one more time, to take the rest of the day off.
