A toy alligator sits on the dash of Joe Elam’s car, a lighthearted reminder of the day 11 years ago when an 8-foot gator clamped down on his leg.
Elam doesn’t mind talking about the attack that occurred in his backyard in Rose Hill Plantation or showing the crescent scar on his calf.
He wasn’t traumatized by it. He says he doesn’t even have nightmares.
“I don’t think much about it,” he says, “until somebody reminds me every now and then.”
He still lives in the same house in front of the same small lagoon that over the years has been home to various alligators.
“They come and live in the lagoon,” he says. “They come and go.”
And he’s not disgruntled about the Rose Hill Property Owners Association after it rejected his claim on its insurance to pay for medical costs associated with the attack. He sued, and in 2000, the association settled the case, wrote him an apology and promised to be more responsive to reports of nuisance alligators. It also paid him about $50,000, though the exact amount wasn’t disclosed.
“There’s no rancor, no real hard feelings,” he says.
It was an attack that could have been prevented if Elam’s warnings that the alligator was aggressive had been heeded.
“That old alligator had been fed for years and had lost his fear of people,” Elam says.
It was a hot afternoon in June 1999. Elam was tending to his bird feeder when he heard a loud splash behind him. He looked back to see an alligator charge out of the water.
“I turned to run, and the next thing I know my leg is in his mouth.”
He was wearing sandals, shorts and a T-shirt. The alligator had his calf in its jaws, up to the knee. During the fall, Elam broke his collarbone. But he didn’t know that at the time.
Adrenaline surged.
He punched the top of its snout.
The gator hung on.
He punched its eyes, pounding repeatedly.
He called for help but no one heard.
After about a minute, one of the punches must have landed in the right place on the eye. The gator let go, and Elam managed to get to the back door of his house several yards away.
His calf was ripped and his hands were swollen to the size of softballs from hitting the gator. He called to his wife, Ginnie.
“Bring a towel and call 911,” he said.
She quickly did as he asked. She noticed his collarbone was out of place. He wasn’t panicking.
“He was very calm,” Ginnie Elam says.
A former Scout and also a Scoutmaster, Elam tended to his wound until the ambulance arrived. Sheriff’s deputies and state wildlife officials also came. The gator was shot, but by then, Elam was on his way to the emergency room at Hilton Head Hospital.
His one request to the doctor: “Get me fixed up because we’re going to Russia in a few weeks.”
He spent three days in the hospital and months in physical therapy recovering from the attack. But he and Ginnie would make the cruise to Russia, despite his limp.
He hasn’t stopped moving since.
Now 80 years old, Elam still maintains a busy schedule. Just this week, he was honored as Volunteer of the Year for the Hilton Head Island Concours d’Elegance and Motoring Festival.
He serves as its manager of site setup and has worked with the Concours since its inception nine years ago, says Carolyn Vanagel, festival executive director.
“He’s the guy behind the scenes that’s getting it done,” Vanagel says. “He’s the kind of guy you want on your volunteer team.”
Elam is also busy with other activities. He still goes on mission trips with First Presbyterian Church on Hilton Head Island, where he serves as an usher. He is a Boy Scout district commissioner and has worked with Scout Troop 245, based at the church. He’s a senior deacon with the Masonic Lodge. He collects model trains and toys, and he walks an hour a day — when it’s warmer.
He considers himself to be semi-retired, working as a construction estimator when he can. He’d be working more if the economy was better.
“I’m an active person,” he says.
As to the alligator, he says he has no lingering effects from the attack.
“I was fortunate,” he says. “All I have is a scar and a little pain in that shoulder” on occasion.
He’s also got a story to tell, whenever somebody reminds him every now and then.