Chapter 3A stranger to Savannah might have easily missed the entrance to The Thirsty Pelican. Were it not for the redolent aromas of various edibles, luring zealots of fried foods off the street and into the tavern like a cholesterol-heavy siren, one might be hard-pressed to view the building as anything but a dignified old home. The three-story structure, standing on a high basement and fashioned of the brown-gray brick so popular in Savannah during the mid-19th Century, lay partially hidden behind intricate black ironwork and several chinaberry trees, which spouted long clusters of purple-tinted flowers, their fragrance smothered in the scent of grease. Only a small wooden sign featuring the establishment’s name, along with a pelican holding a beer mug within its wings, hung from the gat
