In the 1989 film, Field of Dreams, Ray Kinsella hears a voice that whispers to him, "If you build it, they will come." Over time, Ray grows to have faith in that voice, and in spite of the odds, in spite of his family's financial realities, in spite of every common sense argument to the contrary, Ray begins clearing ground for a baseball field. We're told in Matthew 17:20 that when you have faith, even faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains.

Just like Ray Kinsella, Johnny Murphy had faith. He could see things before others could see them. He used to called it Gestalt—the ability to perceive objects and experiences as whole forms rather than as a collection of individual parts. And when it came to the city he loved, he knew that Richmond Hill was so much more than the marshes, great oaks, deep water creeks, and salt-of-the-earth people who occupied them. He also knew that if he could build what he saw in his head, more people would come. At the tender age of 28, Johnny Murphy decided it was time to move mountains. It didn't hurt that he knew a guy with a bulldozer.

"Johnny could walk 100 feet into thick woods," says Carrol Ann Coleman, former County Tax Commissioner and Johnny's sister-in-law, "and he could 'see' the roadways. He could see which way the water would flow. He could see the live oaks providing shade to the cottages and estates. Standing there in the woods, he could literally see it. And he knew if he built it, people would come from all over to live there."

Johnny grew up in Savannah. After graduating from Savannah High School, he took a job with the CSX Railroad. Steady work, steady pay, and in 1980, a beautiful young wife. A lot of men would have stayed put, worked their way up the ranks, and enjoyed their little slice of Heaven. But not Johnny Murphy. Johnny could see the future, and working on the railroad wasn't going to help him bring that future to fruition.

Michele Henderson, a local Attorney who handled many of Johnny's property transfers, remembers working with him on a number of projects. "Johnny had just gotten his real estate license," she says, "and he'd connected (quite by happenstance) with a developer named Ralph Simmons. Working initially with Ralph, Johnny began his crusade to turn his beloved Richmond Hill into the destination city it is today. The two began developing neighborhoods—first Belle Island, then Tivoli Marsh. Soon, Johnny would go on to develop Redbird Creek and Oxford—leafy neighborhoods with big lots, wide streets, and attractive houses. He was always careful to put covenants in place, which would give him architectural control until the neighborhood was completely built out. And just like he knew they would, the people started to come."

In time he would build more subdivisions—Turtle Hill, Richmond Hill Plantation and his masterpiece, Buckhead—to name just three. At Sterling Creek he envisioned a golf course, and he could see the neighborhood that would grow up around it. When people told him he had no idea how to build a golf course, he just shrugged. He could see it. And if he could see it, he knew he could make it happen. But Johnny didn't stop there. After putting his unique stamp on neighborhoods all over the city, he set his sights on a new piece of land near Fort McAllister, where he saw something different: a sprawling neighborhood with a recreational park and a brand new school.

"Oh let me tell you, that whole school thing," laughs Carrol Ann. "I was on the school board back then, and Johnny comes in and tells us we need to build a new school down in that part of town. It would take me forever to tell you the whole story, I voted against it (she says this, still laughing), and it cost me my job."

Her "job" at the time was working on Johnny's brand new magazine—Richmond Hill Reflections, a publication he created to share his vision of what he knew Richmond Hill would one day be. Carrol Ann sold and created ads, did a little writing, and worked with the publisher on layouts. "But when I wouldn't vote for his [idea of a] school," she says, "he let me go. I look back on that now and it makes me smile. You couldn't stay mad at Johnny Murphy for very long. He just cared so deeply about improving this town."

"Johnny used to write for the local paper," Carrol Ann goes on to say, "because he needed a venue to share his thoughts and ideas. And it didn't matter when or where you saw him, he always had a legal pad of paper with him where he was constantly jotting down notes and thoughts. Those pads were filled with his calculations—this many houses, this many families, this many kids, this many cars, this much water and sewer. Some people say that Johnny started Reflections as a way to 'sell' Richmond Hill—and maybe that's true to a point—but I think he just needed to show people what was right here in front of them. He could see it and I think Reflections became the means by which he wanted everyone else to see it."

Kelli Anderson just grins, shakes her head, laughs, and (unless I'm mistaken) wipes a couple tears away when I tell her these stories. Not because she was hearing them for the first time, but because she lived so many of them. "As Johnny's empire began to grow," she says, "he needed someone who could help him keep track of—well—everything. And there were a million things to keep track of: surveys, street names, utilities, contractors, excavators, you name it. I came on board part time to help out, but it quickly led to all day, every day. Which is why we all just stood there with our mouths hanging open when Johnny returned home from a trip to Oklahoma where he'd seen a magazine that was marketing a residential community. Being Johnny, the minute he got home he walks into the office and slaps it down on my desk. 'This is what we need, he said, call the editor there and tell him we want one.'"

"I just laughed. I told him no way. That's not how it works, Johnny. You want us to start a magazine based on something you saw in Oklahoma to showcase and market a community that currently only exists in your head? Well, of course he did. But that's how he operated. When Johnny got one of his visions, he'd literally toss it on the table and tell us (his staff), 'isn't this great? Let's make it happen.' And saying 'no' to Johnny Murphy never went anywhere because he'd come right back with something like 'c'mon, if they can do it, we can do it.'"

So in addition to everything else his staff was running around keeping track of, now he wanted to start a magazine to showcase the neighborhoods, parks, and amenities that only existed on his hand-scrawled plats and pictures. "It was almost comical," Kelli says. "How on earth were we going to accomplish this? Who was going to advertise in our magazine—keeping in mind, it didn't even exist yet—based on seeing some magazine from halfway across the country? I just didn't see how it was going to work. But then I thought of Julie Osteen Seckinger. If anyone had the vision and talent to run with Johnny's crazy idea, it was Julie. I knew I had to introduce the two of them, and I knew if I did, this crazy idea called Richmond Hill Reflections might actually begin to take form."

Julie, too, just smiles and shakes her head when she thinks back to those days. "I was the Marketing Director at The Ford Plantation," she says, "when Johnny, who had just finished a round of golf, looks over at me and smiles. 'I hear you and I ought to meet,' he said. My first thought was, 'oh please, who is this guy?' "But eventually I learned that my dear friend Kelli had recommended me to him. So on that basis I was willing to hear him out. What he told me was that he needed someone to oversee a new magazine he was starting and apparently he could "see" me in that role. I had been working for the company that developed The Ford Plantation and other properties in the country and the Caribbean—places I had enjoyed traveling to—and this guy thinks I'm going to jump at the chance to work at a little Richmond Hill start-up magazine. But guess what? He believed in what he was doing, and he pretty quickly sold me on it. Not long afterwards, I found myself behind the editor's desk at Richmond Hill Reflections."

"Johnny was a man with many interests and talents," Julie goes on, "but chief among them, he was a storyteller. And when he told his stories about what Richmond Hill was going to become, you could almost see—no, you could almost feel—his vision. He was concerned with Richmond Hill sustaining itself, and I was concerned about it retaining itself. Johnny needed a writer, editor, sales person, marketing specialist, photographer, and distributor who could help him tell his story, and he decided that person had to be me. It ended up being one of the most difficult, but rewarding, decisions I have ever made."

Johnny and Julie each brought their own vision to the magazine. Johnny wanted to introduce people to a place he loved, to the gem hidden along the creeks, away from the forests of Pembroke and the crowded streets of Savannah. He didn't envision a commercial mecca (even though I-95 ran straight through town), he saw quiet cul-de-sacs, ancient trees, and neighborhoods filled with families. For her part, Julie wanted to tell the Richmond Hill story through the voices and contributions of the people who made it so special—the artists, fishermen, craftspeople, entrepreneurs, and historians. So together, each of them following their own vision of what Reflections could and should be, created this stunningly beautiful publication that quickly became, and remained, the unique voice of Richmond Hill. Julie adds: "A year or so later we talked Paige into coming on board—and she'll never admit to this, by the way—but she shared her daddy's vision of what made this place so special, and she found a way to bring that out in every issue she's had a hand in. She took the magazine to the next level and integrated digital, interactive, and social media elements. Johnny would be so proud."

Over the years, Richmond Hill Reflections grew and attracted more advertisers. Local companies, contractors, professionals, and business people wanted to tell their own stories in and on the pages of this beautiful magazine. Every issue, right down to the paper it was printed on, became a coveted possession. And the best part? It was absolutely free. Delivered to every mailbox. If you were part of Richmond Hill, Reflections magazine became a part of you. With all the other irons Johnny Murphy had in the fire, his crazy idea to start a magazine would become a staple of Richmond Hill life. Finally, everyone would be able to see what Johnny had seen so many years ago.

We celebrate 20 years of Reflections this year. And while Richmond Hill has grown, changed, and nearly tripled in population since that very first issue, it still remains so much more than the marshes, great oaks, deep water creeks, and salt-of-the-earth people who live here. It remains, thanks in part to one man's faith, stubbornness, love, and vision, a place unlike any other.