The Talented Mr. Green

Copy Post Link

“I like to do things I don’t really know how to do very well. It puts me in an uncomfortable feeling. That’s when you’re learning.”

“I’ve got friends who are retired and friends who aren’t, and I almost can’t tell the difference.”

It’s one of those observations that stops you for a second.

Bud Green wasn’t trying to make some grand statement about Savannah when he said it. He was simply describing what he’d noticed after moving here from Chicago. But the more you think about it, the more it feels like one of the most accurate descriptions of the city I’ve ever heard.

In most places, work tends to define people. Careers become identities. Conversations eventually drift toward promotions, titles, industries, and accomplishments. Savannah has always felt a little different. The surgeon is hanging out with the artist. The entrepreneur is having cocktails with the musician. The photographer is talking travel with the architect. The lines blur. People become known less for what they do and more for who they are.

Bud Green fits into that world almost perfectly.

Spend an hour with him and you’ll hear about photography, vinyl records, French wine, train travel, architecture, cocktails, food, music festivals, black–and–white film, and the subtle differences between Savannah and southern France. Somewhere in there you’ll also discover he built a software company that grew from a one–person operation into an international business with offices in Chicago, London, and Manila.

When Bud Green talks about his life, it sounds less like a résumé and more like somebody emptying their pockets onto a table.

A photography exhibition in France.

A guest bartending shift at Hawthorn.

A stack of vinyl records waiting for his next DJ set.

A software company that grew from a one–person operation into a global business.

Plans to learn French. Maybe piano. Maybe something else.

The funny thing is, none of it feels random. Spend an hour with Green and you realize he’s built a life around following whatever happens to capture his curiosity next.

The funny thing is, that part almost feels secondary.

When Green was working at a Chicago advertising agency in 1990, he noticed a better way to do something. So he built software to solve the problem himself. What started as a side project eventually became a global company. Years later, after selling the business, he and his wife Lynn found themselves looking for a new home.

“We were looking for someplace warmer, historic, walkable, not landlocked,” Green says.

That search eventually narrowed to two cities: Charleston and Savannah.

The couple spent time in both places doing something surprisingly simple. They sat at restaurant bars and talked to locals.

“We wanted to get an idea of what it was like,” Green says. “And really it was very clear that we preferred Savannah.”

The difference wasn’t architecture or weather. It was people.

Even now, years later, Green still talks about Savannah as if he discovered a secret hiding in plain sight.

Someone once described the city to him this way:

“Savannah is like being in college, only more money and no exams.”

He laughs when he repeats it, but he also understands exactly what it means.

There is a social energy here that is difficult to explain to outsiders. Friendships form quickly. Dinner turns into drinks. Drinks turn into invitations. People seem genuinely interested in one another. The city has a way of pulling people into orbit around shared interests, whether that’s music, food, art, photography, or simply sitting at a bar having a conversation.

Green experienced that almost immediately.

The day he closed on his house, he and Lynn were sitting outside with a newly purchased patio table when a stranger stopped by to introduce herself. That stranger was Susan Mason.

Through Susan they met other people. Those people introduced them to more people. Before long they had a network of friends that continued to expand.

“I have more friends in Savannah than I had after three decades in Chicago,” Green says.

The friendships led to opportunities.

Some people discover golf. Others discover pickleball. Bud Green somehow became a DJ.

The story started at a birthday party at Savoy Society. Green rented out the space for Lynn’s birthday and decided to bring a stack of records to play during the evening. Guests enjoyed it. The bartenders enjoyed it. Before long, people were encouraging him to do it again.

Today he regularly spins vinyl around town.

The same curiosity led him behind a bar.

One day, while hanging out at Hawthorn Mini Bar, Green casually mentioned that he’d love to help out sometime. The owners took him seriously. He arrived expecting to observe and perhaps lend a hand. Instead, they handed him a station and put him to work.

“They just stuck me behind the bar,” he says, laughing.

Most people would view that as stressful.

Green viewed it as fun.

In fact, that may be the common thread connecting nearly everything he does.

“I like to do things I don’t really know how to do very well,” he says. “It puts me in an uncomfortable feeling. That’s when you’re learning.”

That mindset explains photography.

It explains bartending.

It explains DJing.

It even explains France.

And while he loves France, he also recognizes what makes Savannah special.

In Chicago, he says, people are often focused on getting ahead. Careers dominate life. Ambition drives the culture.

Savannah is different.

Here, social life isn’t squeezed into whatever time remains after work. It is part of life itself.

That distinction matters.

It’s why a software entrepreneur can become a photographer.

Why a photographer can become a DJ.

Why a DJ can become a guest bartender.

Why somebody can spend the afternoon discussing French trains, then spend the evening helping promote a music festival.

The city encourages that sort of exploration.

And Green seems determined to take full advantage of it.

When asked what’s next, he talks about improving his French. He talks about becoming better behind the turntables. He talks about learning piano. He talks about photography projects and future travels.

Then he stops and laughs.

“I never actually knew what was next.”

For some people, that might sound like a lack of direction.

For Bud Green, it sounds more like a philosophy.

Keep moving.

Keep learning.

Stay curious.

And if Savannah has taught him anything, it’s that there are always interesting people waiting around the next corner.

By Brett Bigelow || Photography courtesy of Alejandro olaya Torres and bud green.

 

Categories: Article

Tags: , #Georgia, #Savannah GA, #Savannah Tourism, #Visit Savannah, Savannah Georgia