Erk Russell at 100: Remembering the Man, His Friends and the Round Table at Snooky’s

On July 23, 2026, Erskine “Erk” Russell, legendary Georgia Southern football coach, would have celebrated his 100th birthday.

We celebrate him for reasons that are difficult to effectively itemize. He started the football program from scratch, borrowing equipment and transportation for his team to show up and play. He led these teams to five national championships in only eight years, bringing home the trophy three times — his last season, undefeated.

Upon his reputation and the promise of the program, the Statesboro community along with Allen E. Paulson, founder of Gulfstream Aerospace Corporation, raised the money to build Paulson Stadium, the “prettiest little stadium in America,” which today holds about 25,000 True Blue Eagle fans. During his coaching tenure, as Georgia Southern grew in notoriety on the field and prominence in academics and research, enrollment nearly doubled from 6,641 students in winter of 1983 to 12,250 students in fall of 1990, its first year as a university.

His spirit inhabits our traditions — players still headbutt his bust before coming onto the field; they still ride in yellow schoolbuses to every home game; the gnat-filled drainage ditch beside the old practice field will forever be called “Beautiful Eagle Creek,” and forever will our new players, coaches and even University presidents be baptized in its gunky, magical waters.

If ever there was a chip on a shoulder, a little more gas in the tank, a need to G.A.T.A., or reach the goal line just “one more time,” Erk was and is there. The friends who knew him best still love talking about him.

“It was a marriage made in heaven — Erk Russell and Statesboro, Georgia,” said Garland Nessmith, one of Erk’s close friends.

To them, he was just Erk — a lover of cigars, a quick wit, a raconteur and a man of the people. After his retirement from football, his wife, to whom he sometimes referred as “The War Department,” insisted he get out of the house each day.

Given his marching orders, he went to Snooky’s. For those who weren’t in Statesboro before its closing in 2012, Snooky’s Restaurant was an institution. Located on the corner of Fair and Tillman Roads, Snooky’s served breakfast, lunch and dinner, and you might find the same people there for all three.

“You didn’t go there for the food,” said Donald Nesmith, another friend of Erk’s. “You went there for the fellowship.”

It was a blue-collar atmosphere, where student “meal plans” and patron tabs were kept on a slip of paper. Right by the cash register was the round table where Erk held court with a rotating cast of friends, acquaintances and visitors who wanted to pay their respects and meet the legend. Doug Lambert, another close friend, said that didn’t always go as planned.

“We had a Republican named Guy Millner who ran for governor, and he was making the rounds,” Lambert recalled. “One of his handlers brought him in and said, ‘Now you need to meet Erk Russell, because he’s a pretty famous guy. He’s over there at the table.’ Millner said, ‘Which one is he?’ His handler said, ‘He’s the bald-headed guy.’ So Millner goes over to a bald guy named Billy Rushing and said, ‘Are you having a good year?’ And Billy said, ‘No, no, not me!’ Erk just thought that was hilarious. But I don’t know how you expect to be elected governor if you don’t know Erk Russell.”

After years of meeting at Snooky’s every morning, Erk and his friends decided to formalize their group and their antics. In 1993, they formed a political action committee and called it SnookPac. Almost immediately, they were solicited for support. A candidate for the Georgia House of Representatives from East Point, Georgia, sent a formal request for a campaign donation. Instead of reaching for a checkbook, however, Erk reached for a napkin.

“He took that napkin,” Lambert said, “and wrote on it that the Pac couldn’t send her a dime because we’d bet all our money on the Georgia-Florida game. Then he asked her if she had $25 she could spare for us.”

Though they had no designs on political action, SnookPac was far from inactive. Each year, they hosted a golf tournament and donated the proceeds to various charities and scholarships at Georgia Southern. However, SnookPac members remember them more for Erk’s yearly “State of the Pac” speech, where he would recount memories from the past year and roast his friends and colleagues.

The following selections were given to this reporter on special loan as the contents of the Official SnookPac Briefcase are top secret.

“It’s been a great year at SnookPac,” began Erk’s speech from 1999. “Of course, the big news is that Coach Paul Johnson, nourished by the epicurean delights offered at Snooky’s and armed with secret plays designed on napkins, led the GSU Eagles to an unprecedented fifth national title. Coach Johson was so proud of the accomplishment that he immediately displayed a bumper sticker that read, ‘I’d rather be fighting chickens.’”

“Pratt Hill, fearing the Y2K worst and acting on advice from his stockbroker brother Randy, sold all his stocks and bonds,” Erk said in the same speech. “Pratt invested in a water purifier, gas generator and 1,296 cans of SPAM. The market soared to a new high the following week.”

“Bucky Wagner [former Georgia Southern director of athletics] has been retained by Turner Outdoor Advertising as a sign consultant,” Erk said. “He awaits bus ticket money to report for work.”

Outside of the daily roundtable visits and Pac events, Erk was a man of the community. He ran errands. He visited his mother. He was down to earth, approachable and affable. He kept index cards in his pocket and wrote the names of the people he met so he wouldn’t forget them.

Once he left the Statesboro city limits, however, his celebrity status was undeniable. He and Bruce Yawn, former owner of Snooky’s and former player under Erk at the University of Georgia, traveled to Athens, Georgia, each year for the Letterman’s Golf Tournament.

Yawn, who died in 2022, recounted to Lambert and others how they stopped for a drink or snacks in the middle of nowhere. Erk went to the counter to pay, but nobody would take his money.

“They wouldn’t even let him pay,” said Lambert. “Bruce said it was like traveling with a rock star.”

His children got to see it up close as well. Erk’s son, Jay, who served as an assistant coach under his father, said he had no problem separating the coach from the legend from parent. On the field, he never got special treatment from Coach Russell. At home, he was his beloved second son.

“He was loved by his players, by his coaching staff, by his community, by a lot of people in Georgia, from Athens to Statesboro,” he said. “He was just a really cool guy.”

Erk died on Sept. 8, 2006. Among his effects was one beer, tucked away in the back of his fridge. SnookPac members each took a shot of Erk’s last beer, a final toast to the man they knew as a friend, a coach, a legend.

“He didn’t consider himself a legend,” said Nessmith. “He knew what his job was. And when he was on the job, he was 100% there. And when he was at the round table at Snooky’s, he was just one of the guys.”

— Doy Cave