Morris
This is an interview with Garnett White. This interview is being conducted on October 13th, 2011, at the Museum of Seminole County History. The interviewer is Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Sir, could you tell us a little bit about yourself?
White
Well, yes. I was born in St. Augustine, Florida. My father was a butcher—or meat-cutter, I guess we would call it. We moved to Sanford when I was maybe three years old. I remember when I was four years old going to a birthday party to a neighbor girl—and as I’ve over the years have tried to think when that was. I believe I was about four years old. We lived on [West] Tenth Street in Sanford, and my father worked as a butcher—meat-cutter—and he moved here from southwest Georgia—called Pelham, Georgia—and he went to work here for a man from Pelham, Georgia, named Bluitt Stevens.
We lived on Tenth Street until I was in about second grade, and my father had a house built on Tenth and [South] Laurel Avenue, and he still worked for Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens owned a store in Downtown Sanford where the Colonial Room Restaurant is now, and it was called Triple S Groceteria—the red front store, and that time is about the time I started school, and I went to Southside Elementary [School], where my first grade teacher was a Mrs. Jacobs, and the principal was Mrs. Harrington. And I remember those times. I went up through the fourth grade. And in the second grade, Elizabeth Wigham was my teacher. And the third grade, was a lady named Bobbi Goff. And the fourth grade, was a lady named Bobbi Goff. And this was only about three—maybe four—blocks from my home, and back then, of course, you didn’t have buses like that, and I remember walking to school when I’m six years old, and of course today, they don’t allow that type of thing, but it was not out of the ordinary at all.
One memory I have of that is that the lunch. The lunches cost 11 cents. You got a blue ticket for five cents, and that gave you the food—a roll usually, amongst other things—and milk was six cents. That was a yellow ticket. And I think you could get all five for 25—all five of a week for 25 cents, as well as I remember. But most people brought their own lunches. They did buy milk for six cents. And that was kind of interesting.
This would have been in about 1940 or ’41, and the Second World War started in 1941, and I remember big piles of metal, particularly aluminum, and rubber. This was to help the war effort, with aluminum to build airplanes out of—and I don’t know what they did with the rubber. But that was my first recollection of playing baseball—or softball, I guess it was—was at Southside Elementary.
Then we, uh—my grandfather was from Athens, Georgia, and he had his arm taken off. He had cancer, and my mother went up there to take care of him for about six weeks, and I, of course, went with her, and so I went to school for that six weeks in Winterville, Georgia.
Of course, coming back to Sanford, continued with school at—we called it [Sanford] “Grammar School,” which is now the Student Museum on Seventh Street and Elm Avenue in Sanford. They’d talk about it being so old, and so on. Of course, that was 70 years ago almost, but it doesn’t look any different today than it did back then. And they’d talk about it being old, and so on and so forth. Didn’t mean anything to us. You know, you had a seat and that was it. You know, scribbling all over the desks with knives. So on. So, you know, times—it just did not mean anything to us, as far as how new something was, and apparently nowadays you got to have a new school, or they don’t—or the children don’t accomplish as much, I guess, is a word [laughs].
But then—about when I was 11 years old, I got a paper route. Remember, this is during the war—the Second World War. And I got a paper route delivering The Florida Times-Union, which is the Jacksonville paper. They weren’t—the Sanford paper came out in the afternoon, and it was very hard to get newspaper or newsprint, and presses would break down, and I delivered The Sanford Herald also, about that time, and they had brown paper. It looked like the brown paper that’s used by butchers to wrap meat in, and that was kind of odd. And I’ve talked to people in the last few years, and they remember the paper being printed on that brown paper.
But something that is really kind of interesting is, over the years, I have talked and had coffee with Senator Mac Cleaver, and we would always talk about our paper routes. He was older than I was, but it never changes. And we would talk about who lived in certain houses, and where they would leave the money for the newspaper, and they still—me being eight years younger than Mac—they still left it at the same place—on the banister, on the porch, that type of thing.
Of course, after that, we went to Sanford Junior High School, which was over on Ninth Street and Sanford Avenue, and I guess that’s when we started growing up a little bit, and getting around town on our bicycles more than we did when we were very young. But we would ride our bikes down to the lakefront—which is Lake Monroe, down where the motel is now—and we’d jump off the seawall. It was there at that time. We’d jump off. We’d swim out to one of the beacons or markers out in the water. Another time—me and another fellow—we swam across the lake all the way to the power plant, and truthfully, we walked most of the way. It was very shallow out in the middle. We didn’t really walk. We just kind of touched bottom, and my father picked us up on the other side at the power plant on the north side of Lake Monroe.
But those were good times. It was not out of the ordinary to go downtown and walk around. Go through the alleys and see what people—or I’m talking about stores—had thrown away and did we want it, and that sort of thing, you know. It was—I really remember one time we went behind a place called [B. L.] Perkins. That was a men’s store. And there was a book of swaths of material that you could pick out what you—the men—would want their suits made out of. And we thought that—they were little old things about three by three inches, about three inches—and we thought that was a big deal. We took those home, and I think our parents threw them away. Anyway, as time goes on, in high school, went further from home, and went through all of the things, I guess, that happen in high school. And immediately after that, I joined the Navy and spent my hitch on board a fleet OR, and this would have been in 1950-51. But going all over town with paper routes, you just got to where you saw things you would never have seen, or people that you talked to or knew—you knew who they were, uh, if you didn’t have a paper route.
And then, as time goes on and I got out of the Navy, I got my—went to the real estate—school of real estate law—and, uh, got my broker’s license. And shortly thereafter, I met my wife, my now-wife. And we got married and had three children. As far as the real estate business is concerned, that was 50—I still have a license—and that’s 56 years ago. That’s a long time. I actually made a living at it. Only way I’ve made a living, up until about 6-7 years ago. And I’m 78 now, so it was time. But in the meantime, there’s quite a bit of property—not houses, but I never was much in the house business—that I’ve sold over that period of time three different times. There was one piece of property I sold three times. All three times were to people named Hall, and that they had never known each other, of course.
Morris
Of course.
White
So it’s interesting. And land would sell for—I can remember appraising. I did quite a bit of appraisals for the banks in Sanford and the First Federal Savings & Loan, and that really got me back into going to places that you normally wouldn’t go if you weren’t in the real estate business. As time goes on, I was handling acreage, as I said, and they pretty well quit farming in Sanford.
Uh, farming as they knew it at that time, which was produce—which was celery. You know, at one time, they said that Sanford—Seminole County I guess—was the celery capital of the world. And it was actually a picture in one of the school books that said “harvesting celery in Sanford.” I remember that. But after the war, they—the farming kind of petered out, because it all went to the muck, and the muck means that you don’t have to spend as much money on fertilizer. And the type soils that we have around Sanford—the farming areas—was good to hold the roots in place and that’s all. And that’s come from the farmers that said, “No, you got to fertilize.”
So muck farms in Zellwood and down in Lake Okeechobee pretty well had an end to the farming in the area. It’s my understanding from the owner of Chase and Co[mpany], which was a very large company—probably the largest farmer in Central Florida back in the ‘20s and—but the last celery grown in the Sanford area was in 1975. Now that came from the owner, president of Chase and Co., and his name was Sydney Chase—Sydney [Octavius] Chase, Jr. His father[1] and his father’s brother[2] are the ones that started Chase and Co.
Something really interesting is that, of course, all of this product had to be shipped by railroad. You know, you didn’t have trucks like you have today. You just didn’t put things on a truck, haul it to New York. It all had to go to—through the railroad, and so most every packinghouse—that type of thing—was located where it could be sent by the railroad. And celery—and cabbage, cucumbers, all of those things—required refrigeration. Well, if you’ll think back to 1925, you didn’t have no refrigeration. But they was able to make ice in big 300-pound “slabs” I’ll call them. Chase and Co. had an icehouse out on the east side of Sanford. There was another one in Ransidey[?], which is in Monroe, Florida, just west of Sanford on the railroad. And you had railroad cars called “reefer” cars, and that stood for “refrigerator.” And they would put these big 300-pound slabs of ice in these railroad cars. They were all painted yellow, and during the summer, there was a siding going—railroad siding going from Sanford Avenue out to the Chase washhouse, which is on Cameron Avenue. And that’s a long ways. And they would store these reefer cars all summer long, because they had no use for them except to ship produce, and of course, you didn’t grow produce in the summertime. Come summertime, in like May or something, would be the last that they grew until next fall and next winter. But I remember all those yellow reefer cars there, and I’m sure many other people that was[sic] out in that area remember just sitting on the siding and waiting on the next year.
But there was a lot of—another thing is interesting is it seems as though to me that the people that owned automobiles—and their kids went to school with me—they were farmers. And other people didn’t have automobiles. My father did not have an automobile until 1946, which was right after the war, and things became available to sell, particularly meat products.
But all of that—getting back to the real estate business, I would come across and I knew a lot of people in the citrus business. And as time went on, I sold some citrus groves, and I bought some citrus groves, and I leased several citrus groves. And our—my wife and I’s—two children kind of grew up knowing what citrus was, and you could go on the Internet under White’s Red Hill Groves and read about us, and it’ll tell you all you need to know about our family and the citrus business. But it’s been 29 years now since we purchased a gift fruit packinghouse called Red Hill Groves. So we have set out new trees and taken care of old trees, and picked and packed, and shipped citrus all over the United States. I would say there’s not a state we haven’t shipped fruit to. But times have changed considerably, since probably 1985 and things started booming—this is because of Disney—and started booming.
And another thing that’s kind of interesting here is that when I went to high school, Seminole High School had a hundred people in each class. And Crooms Academy had maybe 30, and Oviedo [High School] may have 15, and Longwood, which is called Lyman High School, may have 15. And look at it today, there’s what? Eleven high schools, each one of them got three thousand in that school. So that’s really what started happening during those years, and those of course, just kind of bloomed.
Really interested—I was very active in the civic things in the city—Chamber of Commerce, the Jaycees,[3] and that type of thing. As time goes on, I think I’ve been through four—they call them—they don’t call them “depressions,” whatever they call them.
Morris
Recessions?
White
Recessions. And I’ve been through four of them. And I can remember trying to sell houses for a hundred dollars down and making a commission. There ain’t much left to make a commission out of. But times would get better, and then you’d start selling again. People would start buying again. I guess time is going to tell about the one we’re in now in 2011.
But anyway, it was a good life that I lived in Sanford. It is much different. Traffic, as everybody knows, gets on your nerves. But all three of our children live in Sanford, while our packinghouse is in Orlando. The boys go back and forth every day, and our daughter works for Bayer Corporation in the animal health division.
So anyway, we—my wife and I—both feel that our time growing up in Sanford, and spending our entire life here, except for those maybe three years, has been good, and as good as any place we could have settled. I don’t know that we ever considered moving from Sanford, neither of us. But I guess that’s pretty well the story.
Morris
I have a couple questions, sir.
White
Sure.
Morris
Okay, sir. You talked a great deal earlier about the paper route you ran as a kid.
White
Right.
Morris
Was that a great experience for you? Because you spent a lot of time discussing how you met and saw a lot of things.
White
Oh, well, sure! There’s a little story that goes along with that, was we delivered The Florida Times-Union, and we had about 11 or 12 paper boys. And you’d go up and down. Each one of us had about a hundred customers.
Morris
Okay.
White
And you’d go up and down the streets, and there was a policeman that walked the streets at night named Harriet. And Mr. Harriet had a dog that went with him, because Mr. Harriet walked up and down the alleys, and all the way generally throughout the whole downtown area. Well, a friend of mine who lived four or five houses from me had a dog, and the dog would go with him on his paper route. Well, it seems as though Mr. Harriet’s dog would jump on him and bite him and all of this sort of stuff. So my friend bought a collar that had, oh, pieces of metal like a nail sticking out the side—sticking on it. Well, he sharpened those up. And we’re all sitting there one morning, waiting for him to come with his dog. He’d always come around this corner—First Street and Oak Avenue—and he would come around that corner. Well, we’re waiting to see Mr. Harriet’s dog jump on this dog’s neck with those sharp barbs, and he did and he went off just howling. And Mr. Harriet came out. There was a bakery there, and everybody—paper boys—we would go in there five o’clock in the morning and get day-old donuts, and so would Mr. Harriet, and he come out of there just raising Cain about who hit his dog. But that was interesting.
And I guess when I was a senior in high school, I had a car route, and I went to Monroe, Paola, went all the way to Wekiva River, and back up through Monroe. And a man named Bass—he was the last one on my route. And he was a farmer, so he told the paper manager that I was just getting there too late, that if I couldn’t get there five o’clock in the morning, that he wasn’t going to take the paper no more. So I had to rearrange my route so I could get him first instead of last. But that was interesting in that too. And the people—there’s still people around that deliver papers. We talk about it, every now and then, when you see somebody. But that was good experience, really was.
Morris
And you did that from when you were younger all the way through high school, sir?
White
Not all that time, no. But I got a paper route when I was 11 years old, so that’s gonna put me in the fifth grade. And I remember having a paper route in the seventh grade. I don’t think I had any until I was senior, from the seventh until that time.
Morris
Oh, okay, sir.
White
Because like, a lot of—something very interesting. I worked in a grocery store.
Morris
Okay, sir.
White
And you worked Thursday morning from about four o’clock in the morning, and Friday afternoon, and all day Saturday, for four dollars and something. Well, a friend of mine was caddying at the golf course, and he said, “Oh,” you know, “I don’t work but 4-5 hours and I make more than that.” So I went out and started caddying. So I caddied for several years.
Morris
Oh, okay, sir.
White
Because you made more money. You carry those bags around. If you did it twice, they called it “double looping,” you made more money than you would at the grocery store. But anyway, I think everybody sooner or later worked in a grocery store.
Morris
I don’t think that’s changed much, sir.
White
Huh?
Morris
I don’t think that’s changed much. I’ve worked in a couple grocery stores.
White
No. No. I see the kids in there now, and they’re—course we didn’t stay there until all night long like they do now. They put up stock now at night, and we didn’t do that. Anyway, it was good. Good times.
Morris
All right. You mentioned you were in the Navy, sir. How long were you in the Navy for?
White
I was in the Navy for one hitch. I was a quartermaster.
Morris
Okay, and one hitch is, uh...
White
One hitch is when I was on something called “minority cruise,” and that you means you join after you’re 18 and you get out when you’re 21, instead of a flat three years—four years, whatever it is. And I joined when I was a senior in high school, and this wasn’t too long after the war. This would be in 1950.
Morris
Okay.
White
And the war was over in ’45. So anyway—but I was a quartermaster. A quartermaster is someone who does signals and navigation, that sort of thing. And a fleet oiler is different than a tanker. A tanker hauls fuel from one place to another, and a[sic] oiler refuels ships at sea when you’re both underway—you’re both moving. And that’s what an oiler is. You still have oiler today, and always will, because you need it in the middle of the ocean just as you do alongside a dock. And I liked that—and I may have stayed in longer except the ship was going on Operation Deep Freeze, and that was in Antarctica, and I wasn’t going there, ‘cause I’d heard the stories about it before. Everything’s full of ice and all of that. Anyway, that was my military experience.
Morris
Did you travel anywhere on that, at that time, sir?
White
Oh yeah, sure. We went—first time when I went on board there, we went to New York City, which of course, here I am. Never been to New York City. We stayed there for like two days. Then we went to the Caribbean [Sea], down to South America to the Azores. Just that type—wherever. Maybe just sit out in the middle of the ocean waiting on a convoy to come that needed fuel. I mean, that was our job.
Morris
Right, sir. Did you enjoy your time in the military—the Navy?
White
Sure.
Morris
Just didn’t want to go to Antarctica.
White
I didn’t want to go to Antarctica, and probably if I’d have stayed in longer than that, I’d have stayed. I would have stayed to retire. But I didn’t, and not been disappointed in that at all.
Morris
Okay, sir. You also mentioned you worked with civic duties for a while. So tell me a little more about that.
White
Well, 1963, I started civic-type stuff. Well, I was a Boy Scout. And I’ll have to go through the Boy Scouts [of America] first. But the Boy Scouts—I was a[sic] Eagle Scout, and I worked at summer camp as a waterfront director-type person. I guess I was 16 then, maybe 17. Sixteen and seventeen. I worked two years, one at Camp Wewa over in Apopka. The other one was Camp La-No-Che. Excuse me, Camp La-No-Che wasn’t open then. See, that’s 50 years ago, and most people never heard of Doe Lake [Recreation Area], and Doe Lake was in Ocala [National] Forest. And that was a Boy Scout camp and I worked there at that time. But I was a[sic] Eagle Scout, and that was a big deal to me. And we didn’t have many Eagle Scouts around here. Well, around anywhere. That was good.
Morris
I’m sorry, sir?
White
Yeah. You asked a question before that. What was that?
Morris
Your civic duties, sir.
White
Oh. Well, in the Boy Scouts, believe it or not, we actually did a lot of things civic-wise. But I was president of the Sanford-Seminole County Jaycees[4] in 1963, and the Jaycees were very active at that time.
Morris
The Jaycees, sir?
White
Junior Chamber of Commerce.
Morris
Gotcha, sir.
White
Okay. [laughs] And—very active. Had maybe 150 members, and had maybe 150 projects. These were things that, uh—and that was a big time in my life. For instance, we had a Christmas parade that we sponsored and worked. That was the big project for the year—the Christmas parade. And the year I was president, we had 11 bands, and nowadays, if you have one, you got a bunch of them. We had a hundred people working, doing whatever it took to make the parades. But it was always that way. And I have paperwork to that. So—I say “paperwork”—we made booklets of our projects. Some of them. I don’t have all of them. But it was a[sic] active time for people up to the age of 36. When you were thirty-six, then you were no longer…
Morris
Junior.
White
Invited, I guess, to be a Jaycee. And then, I was president of the Seminole County union of the American Cancer Society, and I was president of the Greater Sanford [Regional] Chamber of Commerce. Prior to that, it was the Sanford-Seminole County Chamber of Commerce, and I was a director for 25 years of the Chamber. So, you know, there were those. I was a bank director for 15 years. Served on the board of Seminole State College, as vice-chairman of the board for however many years. I don’t remember. So that was civic-type stuff.
Morris
Okay, sir. Sounds like you were very busy.
White
Yeah. I was busy. I was busy. Knew a lot of people. Most of them are dead now, but, uh, and I’ll join them before too many years. Maybe tomorrow [laughs].
Morris
That’s why we’re getting this down today, sir.
White
Get that out today. Okay.
Morris
Could you tell me a little bit about your family? Your wife’s name, how you met her, and then your children’s names.
White
Yes. I’d gotten out of the Navy, and just got out really, and me and another fellow went to Leesburg High School—to a football game. This was in September, before—after—I had gotten out of the service in August, I guess. Anyway, this girl was a cheerleader, and had black hair. And afterwards, you always used to have dances always—and out of town also. And back then, the girl cheerleaders would always go to the dance, and so me and this fellow went also. And I met her, and then—from then on, had a few dates with her. And anyway, three or four years later, we got married. We have two sons. One’s 54, one’s 53. Have a daughter about 44—something. And the boys run the packinghouse. Have for 20. I say “running” —that’s only partially, mostly. They’ve—that’s 29 years. And a daughter that works for Bayer in the animal health division. Anyway. I guess that’s it. And got grandchildren [laughs].
Morris
How many grandchildren, sir?
White
Well, three. Three boy grandchildren. And one of them works for the city in Palm Coast, and the other one works for the car place—Gibson [Truck World]—down here, and the other one’s thirteen. He goes to school.
Morris
Okay. Is it okay if we get your wife’s name and your children’s names?
White
Paulette. Paulette. My wife’s name was Paulette Casen. It’s Paulette White, of course. And the children are Ed [White], Ted [White], and Judy [White]. And that’s their names.
Morris
Ed, Ted, and Judy?
White
Yes. Eddie, Teddy. [laughs] Yes. Ed, Ted, and Judy.
Morris
Do they still respond to Eddie and Teddy?
White
Oh, yeah, sure. Sure, sure, sure. Matter of fact, people their age call them Eddie and Teddy. But, you know, they have a lot of friends, since they’ve lived here.
Morris
Their whole lives, sir?
White
Yeah. They’ve lived here except when they went to college. Eddie graduated from Stetson [University]. And Judy graduated from [University of] Florida. One of the grandsons graduated from Florida and has a degree in architecture. I was telling a story to a fellow about architecture, and I was telling him I knew nothing about computer[sic]. I do know how to turn it on. But I said I have a grandson that has a degree in architecture, and he has never picked up a pen or a pencil. It’s all down on the computer, every bit of it. It’s kind of hard for people my age to think that—that you’re actually gonna draw a plan for a building with a computer, instead of a pencil [laughs].
Morris
I gotcha, sir.
White
Yeah.
Morris
The, uh—one of the things you mentioned earlier that really caught my attention was you said a lot of farmers had cars. Is that—do I remember that correctly?
White
That’s correct.
Morris
Were a lot of the farmers well-off, or was there...
White
During certain periods, they were well-off. Yes. And it was told to me that a farmer in the late ‘30s could make a living on ten acres of celery, and that’s not very much, but he couldn’t do that today. Same token. I’ve sold—I’ve sold property to people that owned an orange grove and did all of the work their self, and they had 20 acres, and they made a good living. They had a car, and made a good living on 20 acres. But they did all the work their self. They didn’t have somebody else doing the work.
Morris
Right.
White
And so, you know, there’s[sic] certain jobs that—if you’re cut out for it. Not everybody’s cut out to be a farmer. A lot of people are going to have to start thinking about it though, because somebody’s got to grow food to eat.
Morris
Sir, and I do like to eat.
White
And everybody likes to eat.
Morris
Yes, sir.
White
And the truth of the matter is there’s a lot of fussing going on now. People don’t like—well, one thing is dust. They don’t like the dust that farmers create when they plow their field. That’s the EPA—Environmental Protection Agency—and they want to stop that. Well, I don’t know how you’re gonna eat if you stop farm dust. But I’m talking out of bounds here.
Morris
Still interesting to hear, sir.
White
But that’s the way farmers feel. Although we consider ourselves farmers, we’re not farmers in the cattle business or corn business. We’re in the citrus business. But I guess you could say we could be in the citrus business without growing any of our own. We could buy it from somebody else, and pack it, ship it, and that would work, you know. But we do it all.
Morris
Okay, sir. My last question, if it’s all right with you, could you just give me a brief overview of how you actually grow citrus—the process for it.
White
Well, you plant a tree, and you grow it, and it ends up and blooms, and has fruit on it. That’s about it. It’s, you know—it’s just like any farming, and I think that’s what you’d have to say. It’s, you know—you’ve got to prepare the soil, if you want to call it. In the citrus business, you plant small trees—three feet tall—and after about five years, they have some oranges on them. Not very many, but enough, considered that you’ve got some fruit. And the maximum is about 20 years. And during this period of time, you fertilize them, and you prune them, and you just generally take care of them like a baby.
And things change in the business, such as—used to plant them 35 feet apart, and 35 feet in all directions, because the way that you get the weeds down was with a disc or harrow. So you went up and down the rows in one direction, and then across the rows in another directions to kill the weeds. And nowadays, you don’t do it that way. You plant them 10 feet apart in a row, and then you use chemicals to kill the weeds. And you also hedge them, because you don’t have that 35 feet. You have 10 feet. And you got big machines with big, round saws on it—three foot—and they’re spinning, and you go up and down the rows and make a hedge out of it. And that’s what’s really changed in the citrus business in the way that you grow citrus.
Plus, used to—you didn’t have very many ways to keep the fruit clean. Everybody wants to have a blemish-free piece of fruit. It don’t work that way. A friend of mine who used to disc and take care of the growth—first one I ever had—named Carl McWaters. His family was in the business, and he was a caretaker. He said, “Well, Mr. White,” said, “You know, my father worked for that packinghouse over there in Umatilla.” And whenever they had a—one of the diseases—not a disease—one of the bugs that you have. It’s called a “rust mite.” And a rust mite makes fruit look rusty. And he said, “Whenever we’d have a bad rust mite year, we’d go ahead and ship them up north anyway, and called them ‘Golden Rusty.’” Which made them sound a whole lot better than a rusty piece of fruit. So that was kind of interesting. Because they didn’t have any way to kill those rust mites.
And nowadays, you know, it’s an entire—oh, I don’t, what I want to say it. Crop protection, whether it’s citrus or other crops. It’s a whole world of taking care of those problems. In the United States and the agricultural business, the idea is to get rid of a problem instead of live with the problem. And that’s true with a lot of things, not just citrus. But, you know, if you got rust mites, you know—“Well, let’s get rid of those rust mites.” So you got 50 different companies out there trying to have chemicals to get rid of them. In a lot of countries that grow citrus, they don’t do that. They just live with it. And I see nothing wrong with that. But that’s kind of interesting too—how that kind of thing works. But, you know, the companies—some of the largest companies in the world are agricultural chemical companies.
Morris
Okay, sir.
White
Anyway.
Morris
That was it for my questions, actually. Did you have anything else you’d like to say?
White
No. Not really. I may have said a whole lot more than I should have, to start with. But, uh, anyway…
Morris
Well, sir, it’s all great. Thank you very much, sir.
White
All right. Nice to talk.
Morris
This is an interview with John [Louis] Salsbury. This interview is being conducted on the 9th of September, 2011, at the Museum of Seminole County History. The interviewer is Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Mr. Salsbury, could you tell us your name?
Salsbury
Yes. I would like to do this as a means of preservation of my family history, and I hope I can do a good job. Anyway, I’d like to start with the year of 1893, when my great-grandparents and my grandfather moved here from Portsmouth, Ohio, by train. My great-grandfather was a master carpenter, and he lived here—the family lived here—on the corner of [West] Ninth Street and [South] Park Avenue—the southwest corner—for about two years. My grandfather [Louis Salsbury] was 19 years old, and he was employed as a railroad telegrapher at the Sanford Railroad Station on the west end of Ninth Street. In 1895, which was the year they moved away, my grandfather participated in a professional bicycle race—a 25-mile race that began in Downtown Orlando, when Orange Avenue was a dirt road, and ended there. My grandfather won the race.
And after that they moved to Port Tampa, where my great-grandfather became a building contractor and was commissioned by Henry [B.] Plant to build a passenger terminal at the end of the railroad line there in Port Tampa, near Tampa. And steamships—the Mascotte and the Olivette—transported passengers from South America and Cuba to the United States. And they ported—they landed there at the docks. And the terminal building that my great-grandfather built was in use up until that passenger line ceased to operate, but the building remained to 1955.
Also, just a year or two before the building was commenced, that terminal, Teddy [Theodore] Roosevelt, his Rough Riders [1st U.S. Volunteer Calvary] and officers, were among the soldiers and troops that were encamped in the Port Tampa area en route to the Spanish-American War. Teddy Roosevelt and his officers were hosted and remained in my doctor’s—in the Salsbury family doctor’s—home, which was located about a block from my grandparents’ home, and where my great-grandfather built. My grandfather joined the Army and participated in the Spanish-American War, and following that war, my great-grandfather was commissioned to also build a very famous wooden hotel in Bartow-Clearwater area, over near Clearwater. It’s still in use. It’s the Belleview Biltmore Resort. It’s a large wooden hotel, and it’s still in use today.
Okay, after that, my grandfather married—and he was a telegrapher—and on the west coast at Palm Harbor, Florida, near the Gulf [of Mexico], and between Clearwater and Tarpon Springs, he married Rose Tinny—Rosalind Tinny. And my father [John Wright Salsbury, Jr.] was born in Port Tampa. My great-grandfather had built three homes there, and after my father graduated from high school in the year 1926, he found this moonshiner’s shoe. It was uncovered by a fire that had burnt some palmettos. My father found that—and they determined it belonged to the moonshiner. His name was Herndon, who was killed by the troops when he tried to steal corn from the soldiers encamped there for the Spanish-American War. Well, anyway, the left shoe that I have in my possession is in the Smithsonian Institution, and this right shoe I still retain.[1]
Okay, in 1914, just before this—at the age of 12—my father and his sister, Mary, at age of five, flew on the world’s first passenger, scheduled passenger airline from St. Petersburg to Tampa. As a member of the Florida Aviation Historical Society, I’ve been through a lot of this and photographed a lot. I’m their photographer. Well, anyway, in 1914, my father and my aunt flew with Tony Janus, or the line pilot, from St. Petersburg to Tampa. This airline was in operation for three months and flew 1,205 passengers, and is actually on record as being the world’s first scheduled airline.
My dad moved to—my dad and my mother—I was born in 1931 in Tampa, and my father and mother separated in ’41, and in 1941 we moved to Sanford and have resided in Sanford since. At least I have. My father was a railroad engineer with the Atlantic Coast Line [Railroad]. He had roomed with Cara Stenstrom, the mother of Douglas and Julian and Frank and Herb and Ruth Stenstrom—my stepbrothers and sister. Well, that year, or year around that time, the early 1940s, I recall having met Red Barber, the famous sports announcer’s father, there on the front porch. Okay, Red Barber, who actually went to school in Sanford and graduated from Sanford High School, went on to become the most famous sports announcer in baseball, football.
All right. I went into the Air Force in 1949, upon graduating from the Seminole High School. I was a radar operator, and while in the service, I served in Alaska, Newfoundland, Iceland, and West Germany. But some of the highlights of my service, while I was—after I returned from Alaska in 1951, I was able—stationed in Norton Air Force Base in the Air Defense Control Center there. I was able to see many movie stars: Marilyn Monroe, Lucille Ball, Lana Turner, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, Gregory Peck. I really enjoyed my time there at Norton, because I met all these people, and not only that, I made sure that I worked within the Air Control Center—gave me a ride, or I flew as the co-pilot in a twin-engine bomber trainer called a T-11. And while we were in operations, he was filing his flight plan—I was standing next to a tall gentleman at the counter, where he was filing a flight plan, and on this parachute he had draped over his shoulder was the word “Yeager. So I actually got a chance to see the famous Chuck Yeager, who broke the speed, the sound barrier. And outside was an experimental jet bomber, XB-43,—I remember they called it—and he was probably flying that at the time.
Anyway, after we took off in this T-11, the major took control of the aircraft ‘til we went over Edward’s restricted area, or Edwards Air Force Base. And then he showed me how to use the radio compass, and I honed it in on Palmdale, where the space shuttles were built. Well, anyway, I took control, and he let me fly the T-11 up over L.A.—Los Angeles—Laguna Beach, Long Beach, all along the coast. And then, when he said we had to go back, he asked me if I thought I could find my way back, and I said, “I believe so.” So I honed in on the mountains there—San Bernardino right there at Norton—and headed back to Norton. And that was one of the most memorable flights I’ve ever taken. I really enjoyed that. All right, uh, upon—you may pause it just for a second.
Morris
Good to go, sir.
Salsbury
Okie doke. Another thing I’d like to comment on about an experience I had while in the Air Force, stationed in Iceland, President [Richard M.] Nixon stopped over there on the way to Russia, in Keflavík Air Field [Naval Air Station (NAS) Keflavík] in Iceland, and being in radar, I knew about it. So I was down there with my camera—my movie camera—and was able to get some shots of Admiral [Hyman G.] Rickover as he walked out of the plane—walked by. Nixon didn’t get out of the plane, nor did his wife [Pat Nixon].
Okay, then, when stationed—before my retirement in 1969, I was stationed at Homestead Air [Reserve] Base in South Florida, in radar again. I was electronic warfare NCOIC [Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge], and President Nixon was inaugurated and flew right into Homestead AFB [Homestead ARB] the next day, and I took my son and my daughter over to see him. Well, lo and behold, we were only, right at the front of the fence there at the tarmac there at Homestead, and the President walked directly to us and shook our hands, and it appeared on the front page of The Miami Herald the next morning. So I had a—we had a wonderful experience of meeting Richard Nixon and shaking hands with him. And then I retired shortly after Neil Armstrong put foot on the moon.
Salsbury
And I came—we moved back to Sanford, and bought a new home here in Sanford, and I became employed as a postal clerk over in Orlando for one year in the sectional center, and then transferred to Sanford, where for 16 years I was a letter-carrier. Riding a bicycle and a jeep, carrying mail in Sanford.
Well, while in Sanford as a letter-carrier, I had been taking pictures of the first space shuttle launch from Titusville and the ones following that, and I was taking my film to Eckerd’s drugstore to have it processed. Through a questionnaire that I filled out, the Eckerd’s marketing management and headquarters in Clearwater called me one day. They asked if I would appear in a TV—television commercial for them. And from that, I was titled “The Shuttle Photographer,” and Eckerd’s produced and ran for a year and a half a commercial introducing their one-hour photo service. That helped me, in a way, get my foot in the door as becoming a press photographer at [John F.] Kennedy Space Center, to shoot the space shuttle launches up close. So from the end of ’91, I was credited as a press photographer with The Sanford Herald editor sponsoring me. And throughout the shuttle program, I served as a press photographer at the Space Center, covering the 30-year shuttle program.
Just recently, in July—in July the 21st—the [Space] Shuttle Atlantis landed, and I was there on the end of the runway, and I captured the landing and the tow back of the space shuttle for the last time of Atlantis. Atlantis just happens to be a particular launch vehicle that I took in 1994, November the 3rd, that turned out to be my most successful space shuttle photograph. It hangs in the NASA [National Aeronautics and Space Administration] Media [Resource] Center. A 30 x 40. It hangs in the Viera VA [Veterans Affairs] Hospital entrance. It hangs in museums, and it’s been purchased by a number of people over the years. So the STS-66 launch turned out to be my most successful space shuttle picture.
And now that the shuttle program has ended, I devote my future photography Endeavors towards shooting wildlife. And here in Lake Mary—close to Sanford—I have some blinds set up, and I have wood duck nesting boxes, and I have been very successful in photographing Florida birds here, and will continue doing so. Thank you, Joe.
Morris
Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Salsbury. I have a few more questions if that is okay.
Salsbury
Fire away.
Morris
Okay, Mr. Salsbury. Earlier you mentioned about the shoe that your family member had found previously?
Salsbury
Right. That was my father.
Morris
Could you describe that? Yes, your father, sir. Could you tell—could you describe that for us? And then tell us what purpose that shoe was being used for?
Salsbury
Well, sure. I’d be glad to.
Morris
Thank you, sir.
Salsbury
Joe, this shoe that I’m showing you has a tin foundation, or a base, to it, and nailed to the bottom of this piece of tin are two wooden replicas of cows’ hooves, out of wood, carved by this moonshiner. And what the moonshiner would do—he—he was able to attach this to his shoes and conceal his tracks as he went to and from his still, which was located near my family home in Port Tampa, Florida, Hillsborough County. And a fire had really exposed this to my father. It was wrapped—the shoes, the pair of shoes—were wrapped up in a newspaper and was charred, but was exposed when the fire burnt these palmettos along the roadway, which is now in Trask Avenue in Tampa, Florida. T-R-A-S-K. Anyway, when my father opened the package up, here was this pair of overshoes used by moonshiner by the name of Herndon in Port Tampa, to go to and from his still. This moonshiner was later shot to death when he attempted to steal grain—sacks of grain—from the soldiers camped in the area, or en route to the Spanish-American War from Port Tampa to Cuba, where they embarked from Port Tampa. They determined—they found out they were having sacks of grain stolen from them, or missing, so they set up a trap. And actually they caught the guy, and they shot him. But apparently he wasn’t wearing these shoes, and he had these hidden just to go to and from his still. And that’s how come I ended up—the right shoe I have, and I’m showing you at this time. The left shoe, in 1926, was given to the Smithsonian Institution and appeared in The St. Louis [Post-]Dispatch with a picture of it telling that it’s in the museum. I have been unable to locate that copy of The St. Louis Dispatch that I had. I don’t know what happened to it. But anyway, I do know that one shoe was in the Smithsonian Institution.
Morris
Well, thank you. That’s a very interesting piece you have there, sir.
Salsbury
Thank you.
Morris
Another question I have is—you said 1941[2] you moved to Sanford?
Salsbury
1941.[3]
Morris
Who did you move with, sir?
Salsbury
My father, my sister, Rosemary [Salsbury], and I. The three of us.
Morris
Okay, sir. And your sister, is she currently living in Sanford, or...
Salsbury
No, she lives on the west coast, over near Tarpon Springs.
Morris
Okay, sir. And you said, you were describing earlier your experiences working as a press photographer for The Sanford Herald.
Salsbury
Right.
Morris
Do you have any more experiences that you’d like to share about that, any kind of experiences working at the—as opposed to just taking photographs…
Salsbury
The only experiences I have—and one is very interesting ‘cause it deals with Seminole County. As a press photographer, I was given quite a lot of extra photo possibilities. There was a launch of [Space Shuttle] Endeavor—and I don’t recall just what mission it was at the time—but when I boarded the bus to go with an escort to go there to photograph it with my telescope, she handed out a sheet of paper that listed the dignitaries—the important events that was gonna be there at this event site that I had wanted to shoot from. One of them was Alan Shepard, who was the first American astronaut to go into space. All right. She told—I asked her if she’d point him out to me or help me find him. I wanted to get a picture of him. She said, “I could do better than that. I could have your picture taken with him.” So she did that, and they used my camera. And I sent the photo to Houston[, Texas]—to him—and he autographed it and returned it to me, and in turn I gave—I left one with him.
But I told him in the letter something very interesting that I found out. My classmate in 1949, Bettye Ball [Deadman] from Lake Mary, lived a short distance from Alan Shepard’s grandparents. Alan Shepard used to spend his summer vacations from Connecticut or New Hampshire in Lake Mary. He spent him out there, in his vacations, and his grandparents. One day he was missing, and they couldn’t find him. He was found on the Ball—Bettye, my classmate’s family’s—dining room table eating a banana. And so I told him about this in the letter, and he got a charge out of it.
But anyway, my stepbrother, Doug Strenstrom—Douglas Stenstrom—is the one that told me first that Alan Shepard had a connection with Lake Mary and Seminole County. And then, when I found that out, I was talking to Bettye Ball and she told me about the banana incident. And so, it so happens that Alan Shepard enjoyed a lot of his school summers, if not most of them, right here in Lake Mary, Seminole County. So, anyway, I got a chance to meet him.
Not only that—another thing I want to tell you, an interesting thing happened. I wasn’t a press photographer at the time but I had an eight-inch telescope, and I took this with me to shoot from Titusville the first launch of the space shuttle—STS-1 [Space Shuttle] Columbia. And the picture I took, turned out I shot into the sun, but I got a fairly good picture. For a color picture, it turned out black and white. But anyway, I got a good picture. Well, The Orlando Sentinel team saw me, and they took a picture of me with my nephew, Troy Hickson, from Lake Mary, as we were photographing with my telescope. And this was published and in The Sentinel.
Well, there was a time when I wasn’t—later on, when I wasn’t a press photographer, but I was shooting from the NASA Causeway with my telescope, and the gentleman told me I needed press credentials to get up close and get better pictures. So little wheels started turning in my head as to how I could bring this about. First thing I thought about doing was calling this photographer that had photographed me at the first launch over in Titusville at The Sentinel in Orlando. So I called, and they couldn’t use me in Orlando on the team, but he suggested something that really did it for me. And he suggested that I get a hold of the public affairs people at NASA, at Kennedy, and request a freelance pass—a pass as a freelance photographer. Well, I did this, and that allowed me to start getting passes to put my camera up remotely. I’d put my camera out right next to the shuttle, and using another man’s trigger at first—and finally I knew how to do it and I finally bought the equipment and did it on my own. But anyway, the sound after the solid rockets are fired triggers your camera, and you’re nowhere near it. You’re sitting there anchored down, but it’s up close to it. So that’s how I got my best pictures was in that manner.
Okay, after that first launch on the 12th of April of 1981, there was an air show. It went to Sanford Airport. And I took my son out there, and I had my camera along to shoot the show. And a friend of mine who had a shoe store in Sanford, Donald Knight—well known in Sanford—and he was a flight instructor and a pilot, and he was at front of operations prepping a Cessna for flight. And I walked up and commenced talking to him this day. This is after the launch of the shuttle. And he said, “Do you know whose plane that is next to me?” And I said, “No.” He said, “That’s Neil Armstrong.” I waited until Neil Armstrong came out and his family came out of the operations and got in their plane, and took pictures of this, and got some good pictures of Neil Armstrong. He left there and nobody, of all these people there—the thousands of people at the air show—knew he was there, I think. He taxied out and took off before the air show. So I got pictures of Neil Armstrong.
Another incident, having been with press credentials and having put my remote cameras out for the launch of John Glenn—STS-95—I was able to get a picture and he posed for me. And this was Buzz Aldrin, who stepped on the moon. And I also got pictures of several of the other astronauts, the one in STS-13—I mean not STS-13—the Apollo 13. And Gordon Cooper.
Now, not only that, over the years, I was able to meet and become friends with different astronauts, but one of the highlights of my time over there too took place when I was working part-time at [Walt] Disney World, [Disney-]MGM Studios.[4] I purchased a little lapel pin of Buzz Lightyear. Well, I had a taken a nice shot of the STS-61 launch of [Space Shuttle] Endeavor, that Story Musgrave was mission specialist of, and did a spacewalk to repair the Hubble [Space] Telescope. Well, my pictures came out so good. I made Christmas cards out of them, put “Merry Christmas,” “Happy New Year,” and all that on them, and I sent them to each one of the crew members in Houston, so when they landed, they would get Christmas card greetings at their launch. Well, I got responses from Kathy Thornton and different ones with autographed pictures of all of them and all that.
But six months later, I get a telephone call from Story Musgrave—Dr. Story Musgrave—who did the spacewalk repair on the Hubble telescope and was on the mission. He commented to me, he said, “That’s the best night launch picture I’ve seen. Would you make transparencies for me so I can use them in my lectures?” And he called me back later and asked me how much it was and all that. He wanted to pay for it. I didn’t want him to pay for it, but he sent me a check and paid for it. I asked him, I said, “Story, would you take a little Buzz Lightyear pin in space for me in your next mission coming up in September?” Or November. And that was STS-80. He called me back later and said, “Send it on.” He had room. He could take it. So Story Musgrave took a little Buzz Lightyear pin for me on the STS-80 mission of Columbia that ended up being the longest space shuttle mission flown, 17 days. When they returned, it took me two years to get it back. But I got it back, and it was still packaged and in the plastic, and it was accompanied by a certificate of authentication signed by Story Musgrave, telling that “this space,”—oh, “this lapel pin of Buzz Lightyear,”—or something to this effect—“was carried aboard Columbia for John Salsbury,” and so on. So I got this wonderful document to see that by.
So that kind of sums up some of the most important things that I remember as highlights doing my space shuttle photography over 30 years. I was able to meet a lot of the good ones, and one of them was Tom Jones, and I’m still in touch with him. Most, many of these pictures I have, like the one of STS-96—it shows shooting into the rising sun and everything, Rick Husband, who was killed when the Columbia exploded, he was the pilot of that one. And I’ve got a beautiful picture of that, autographed by the pilot, Kent Romminger. So, a lot of my pictures, even the one with John Glenn’s launch, turned out. I sent it to him. He autographed it for me. I’ve got the picture of John Glenn going up autographed. I’ve got all these autographs on my pictures over there. And my room looks like a museum itself.
Morris
Sir, that’s impressive.
Salsbury
Thank you. But that’s about it, in a nutshell, I think.
Morris
Well, sir, could you tell me a little bit about your family?
Salsbury
Well, I think I told you, let me, my great-grandfather’s name was John Wright Salsbury I. He was married to Addie—A-D-D-I-E—Burke Salsbury, and they moved here with their son, my grandfather—later grandfather—Louis Salsbury, to Sanford in 1893, as I mentioned earlier. My dad moved up here upon my mother and father’s separation in 1941. We moved to Sanford from Port Tampa, and that’s when I joined the Stenstrom-Salsbury family, or we were joined, and of course, Douglas and Julian are well-documented in their contributions here in Seminole County. And Frank, he married Henry Took—Harry [Patricia] Took—excuse me, who was a millionaire that owned a lot of groves. And he took care of the groves, my stepbrother did, Frankie.
And then Herb was a realtor. He was the other stepbrother, and Herb passed away a young man due to lung cancer. But he married Carolyn Patrick, and the Patricks own a packing—a fruit business of citrus and citrus-packing groves and so forth.
And my stepsister, Ruth, she married a young man that was—became a—he was an umpire in baseball—professional games, but then later became a—they moved to Cocoa Beach and he was on the City Council and he was a postmaster over there at Cocoa Beach, about the time when the Apollo program was going on. And Ruth—no, Julian, was a sports announcer and writer for [The Sanford Herald], he announced for Red WTRR Sanford, a radio station, and he wrote for the columns for The Sanford Herald. And he wrote a lot of them about “Way Back Then”—they titled it—and I have copies of those. He had a wonderful memory and recall of sports. He mentioned—he brought a light that Buddy Lake from Lake Monroe, in Sanford—and Lake Mary, in the Sanford area—a ball player, ended up in the hall of fame from Julian’s efforts. He found out that Buddy had led hitting and pitching at one time, and this was something that hadn’t been done before. This was back when he played for Florida State League. And Julian also brought out the fact that Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier here in Sanford at the Sanford ballpark when he was playing for the [Brooklyn] Dodgers.
Julian and I—well, Julian became an official in the Southern Baptist brotherhood out in California, in Bakersfield, and I was stationed at Norton Air Force Base in the ‘50s. He and I attended a professional spring training ballgame between the Cincinnati Reds and another team I don’t recall. And Julian and I were sitting on the third base bleacher line there in the stands, and I was sitting maybe ten feet away from a gentleman with a cigar in his mouth. And Julian asked me if I knew who that was. He said, “That’s Branch Rickey.” So Branch Rickey is one of the two people that Red Barber dedicated his book, Walking in the Spirit, to. A great book. It’s in the museum in Sanford. It was given to Julian by Douglas. Anyway, Red Barber mentions—no, Julian wrote an article about Red Barber that I have as well too, and it was published in the Sanford paper, telling about Red Barber’s ball playing and his living here in Sanford. So, I can’t think right offhand of a lot of the highlights that Julian brought out. But anyway, they’re well-documented and covered in articles he wrote for the paper while he was there.
Oh, another thing, myself and my younger stepbrother, Frank, and my classmates, John Keeling and Richard McNab—Keeling just passed away and he was a retired colonel in the Army. Worked in the Pentagon. And Richard McNab—retired colonel—Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, who flew B-47 reconnaissance aircraft. He’s living in Ocean Springs right now. And we all were on the American Legion baseball team in 1948. On March the 16th of 1948, Babe Ruth came to Sanford. Julian was the announcer, the master of ceremonies. Carl Hubble was there, John Krider, and Julian, and the mayor, Mayor Williams. Julian introduce a number of the people there, but the mayor actually introduced Babe Ruth. And I was there, and my other members played on the American Legion we had at the time. Babe Ruth signed baseballs for all of us, and we were given these baseballs signed by Babe Ruth. Well, anyway, the wonderful thing happened was that Julian and all of the commentary and all the narration or the talking that was done, even Babe Ruth’s voice, was recorded on a recorder—on a platter, a record, by someone. Well, Julian, my stepbrother, ended up having a copy of that, and he found it before passing away. And we transferred that over to an audio tape, from there to a VHS tape, and now I have it on DVD. We have Babe Ruth’s actual voice, which was eight months to the day before he died, when he was here in Sanford and honored in Sanford. So that about covers everything, Joe.
Morris
How about your immediate family?
Salsbury
Oh, I’m sorry. I have two children. My wife was from Lake Mary. Her name was Yvonne Eubanks, and she passed away five years ago today, on September 9, 2006, here in Sanford Hospital. She had diabetes and her kidneys gave out on her.
We have two children. My son is a lieutenant in the fire department, Lake Mary, and my daughter has moved to Tennessee. She was married to Bill Von Herbulis and had a daughter then. And her daughter, Jessica [Frana], well, anyway, later married. But before that my daughter remarried Steve Frana. His father’s friend owned Tube Tech. It’s a stainless steel plant here in Sanford. And there’s a connection. My son-in-law, Steve, actually made all the space shuttle hinges for their payload doors right here in Sanford. So it goes back to the space program.
But anyway, Steve’s father’s passed on now, but my daughter and Jessica—her daughter by her first husband—they all moved to Tennessee, and have a 45-acre farm up in Tennessee, real nice farm. And Steve had already had four children, two boys and two girls. So then—well, anyway, the total grandchildren I have now are nine, seven by my daughter and two by my son, and I have four great-grandchildren up in Tennessee. And, well, I’m living alone now. And in my latter years, I’m trying to get my family history together, and what we’re doing today, Joe, will help out very much.
Morris
Well, we definitely appreciate it, sir.
Salsbury
Thank you.
Morris
Just one final question, just ‘cause we’re greedy for history.
Salsbury
Did I mention my daughter’s name?
Morris
Ah, just in case, repeat, sir.
Salsbury
I don’t think I did. My son’s name was Terrence Wade Salsbury. He’s the Lieutenant in the Lake Mary fire department. My daughter’s name is Gale—G-A-L-E, not G-A-I-L, but G-A-L-E—Salsbury Frana—F-R-A-N-A. And, oh, one thing I failed to mention is very important. My daughter’ s first child, Jessica, she’s graduated from Wake Forest [University] and from University of Tennessee. She married a Pete Exline, who was a captain in the U.S. Army. Pete was a graduate of [The United States Military Academy at] West Point. His home was Jacksonville. Pete was sent to Iraq for a year, and upon returning from Iraq, he was put in the university, or Georgia Tech [Georgia Institute of Technology], for nuclear physics training, schooling. And from there and today, he has already started. He is an instructor at West Point, instructing nuclear physics. So my grandson-in-law, whatever, my grandson is teaching nuclear physics at West Point right now. So now you got my end of it. [laughs]
Morris
I do, sir. Can you describe the differences from Sanford and the local area now, than it was when you saw it in your earlier days, sir?
Salsbury
Well, from what I remember mostly, you couldn’t go to a restaurant or practically anywhere without running into people you knew. It was a tight area here, and we knew so many people. And I enjoyed growing up here in Sanford. Throughout my life, oh—there is something I want to mention.
Morris
Okay.
Salsbury
My grandmother—her great-great-grandfather—now because she married, her father was a Tinny in Clearwater, and they were very wealthy, and the family had owned most of what is Downtown Clearwater right now, at the time. Well anyway, her mother was a daughter of a Anna Frank Bellamy. Now, her grandfather was a William Bellamy, the son of Abraham Bellamy, who was one of the first legislators of the state of Florida when it became a state. He was on the committee that wrote the first Florida constitution, and is a signatory of the first Florida constitution, which was, hell. And my grandmother’s uncle, who was a Bellamy—John Bellamy—he paved a road between Tallahassee and St. Augustine, and parts of it is still there with his name on it. And one of the Bellamys also had paved the way for the first railroad line between Port St. Joe in Tallahassee before the other railroad lines in Florida. And the Bellamys owned a plantation. Plantations were among the wealthiest people in the state of Florida at the time, and Madison County, up near Tallahassee, is where they’re buried. But the Bellamys are distant ancestors of mine through my grandmother.
Morris
Wow, sir.
Salsbury
I didn’t want to miss that because I wanted to get that in there somewhere. But my grandmother’s—one of my grandmother’s sisters—well, I’ll go a little further. One of my grandmother’s sisters, she was blind in her old age, but she married a Leslie Evie. Her name was Ebie Evie, and she was a Ebie Tinny Evie. Anyway, she and her husband owned what ended up to be a sort of a hotel later, but it was a boarding house and a post office and a waiver point for ships going down the west coast of Florida. And they stopped in there for provisions and so forth—before Tampa was a Tampa, before St. Petersburg was a St. Petersburg. Back in those days, it was one of the big stops along the way. So my aunt—my great-aunt, Ebie—she even hosted a Russian hierarchy woman that was in the hierarchy of the Russian—in the Russians.
Anyway—but when she was a little girl. They were born—my aunt, grandmother, and her sisters, my great-aunts—they were born in a log cabin at Curlew, on Curlew Creek right there next to Dunedin, between Clearwater and Tarpon Springs in a little town called Dunedin. Curlew’s where they were born in a log cabin. Well, as a young girl, my grandmother’s sister was farmed out to live with a surgeon at Fort Brook in Tampa—before there was a Tampa—the fort there. So this surgeon and his wife raised Ebie as a little girl there, before she got married, anyway, for a number of years. So Fort Brook, in now-Tampa, was involved in all this.
And then, another sister of my grandmother’s, who was a Tinny—born over there at that log cabin, Ira Wood. Ira Wood was her name, after her married name—Ira Tinny Wood. She and Ebie are two people that are very dear to my memory, because I would spend my school years in Sanford, all my summers over there swimming and scalloping and fishing at my grandparents’ there in Ozona, where they lived. And I spent an awful lot of time at their house. My Aunt Ira, her kitchen always smelled like a bakery, or had smell of those cookies, or something baked in there. I’ll never forget it. And then Ebie, she always sat on the front porch at 1981 High Alder, right by their house, and she’d sit on the porch since she was blind. But so many people, and I’m one of them, enjoyed just sitting there talking to her on that screened porch over the years.
And, now, Aunt Ira, who was one of the sisters I was telling you about, of my grandmother, she had a son named Duane—William Duane Wood. That was the name of her husband, but this was William Duane II, and we called him Duane. He and my father were very close, and they grew up together, and he was a naval pilot in World War II. And after he got out of the Navy, he wasn’t a fighter pilot, but he was in the Navy, and he gave me a ride in a Piper Cub he had with floats, there in Ozona. Gave me my first sea plane ride. But anyway, he was hired by the Department of Interior—United States Department of Interior—to oversee Sanibel, the island down there. He lived by the lighthouse, and they provided him an airplane and a launch, and he protected the island from the turtles that, you know, nested there, and different things. He flew up and down the coast and provided samples of water. Anyway, before he died—and I was with him when he passed away over in Tarpon Springs, with my aunt—now that was my aunt that flew in the first airline. But anyway, my uncle[5], Duane Wood, he contributed and helped build the flying model, the Benoist model XIV, which was the air boat that Tony Janus flew in 1914.
And then our president—remember I’m in the Florida Aviation Historical Society—and our president’s gone now, but he flew in 1984, he flew over the same route—this re-model, flying model of the original airplane that flew back in 1914. He flew it over that route, and it’s all documented. And afterwards, it ended up in a museum near Clearwater, and Russell [St.] Arnold, who was a director in the Florida Aviation Historical Society and the primary person responsible for building this flying replica, is the one that gave me my membership and introduced me. I happened to be over showing some videotapes of air shows at Daytona and around to my uncle, Duane, while he was bedridden in Tarpon Springs before he died. Russell [St.] Arnold was there, called him over, and I was able to meet him. And I found out that Duane was instrumental in helping build, or contributing money, contributing something, I don’t what he contributed to the building of this air boat.
Now, in 1991—I think it was, ’90 or ’91—before he died, Russell [St.] Arnold invited myself and my aunt to go see this flying model in the museum. And it was sitting on the floor at the time, and Russ said, “John, get in.” I said, “I can’t do that. That’s a museum piece.” He said, “Well, it’s mine. I guess you can!” I got in there, and he took a photograph of me standing next to it with my aunt standing beside it, and I have a good picture of that. So now, today, the model—that flying model of the Benoist model XIV flying boat—hangs in the museum in St. Petersburg, at the million dollar pier right there at their historical museum, and they’ve got mannequins in the cockpit up there.
But not long ago, a Nicole Stott, who was from Clearwater, flew on the space shuttle as a mission specialist. She carried the banner that flew on the first Benoist model XIV, or on that flight—first flight—with Tony Janus in 1914. She took that aboard the space shuttle, and it’s been returned, and now, if you looked at the airplane hanging in the museum, you’ll see that banner up there that she flew in the space shuttle. Not only that, there’s another connection if you want to hear it, about that.
Morris Of course, sir.
Salsbury
Okay. I didn’t know it, but being a member of the Florida Aviation Historical Society, I knew Ed Hoffman[, Sr.], who was a man that started our society, and was instrumental in building this too, and all that with our president. He passed on here a while back, the day before he was supposed to be inducted into Florida Aviation’s hall of fame. And, anyway, his son, Eddie [Hoffman]—Ed was an architect in San—uh, Tarpon Springs. And he did the interior decoration for the famous—world-famous—Pappas [Riverside] Restaurant. It was over at Tarpon Springs. But anyway, his son, Eddie, is a pilot and he has his own plane, and he’s an architect, and he and I are in communication with each other. And he sent me an e-mail a while back. And it so happened that Nicole Stott and her father—or at least the family—were friends of the Hoffmans—my friends. And Nicole Stott’s father was an aerobatic pilot. He liked flying aerobatics. Well, he took up one of the Hoffman’s flying boots[?], and somehow it crashed into a seawall and he drowned sometime back. And so, uh, that was a tragic ending there. But Nicole Stott, his daughter, ended up being a, uh, shuttle mission specialist, and flying a mission—a few missions back. So I just wanted to mention that.
Morris
Ah. Thank you very much, sir. Do you have anything else you’d like to discuss before we wrap things up?
Salsbury
You know, things were out of context and not chronologically spoken. But I’m glad I remembered the things that I did, and I only want to close by saying that photography has meant so much to me now, and I’m enjoying my days now using a digital Nikon camera that I use for the shuttle and getting wonderful wildlife pictures here in Seminole County.
Morris
Thank you so much for coming today, sir.
Salsbury
Okay.
Morris
Really appreciate that.
Salsbury
Thank you.
Morris
Okay, go ahead.
Salsbury
Okay. Something I want to add. In early 1994, Florida Aviation Historical Society’s president, Ed Hoffman, Sr., asked me to get together photographs of the Cape [Canaveral] area—Kennedy, Cape Kennedy—to go in Florida Aviation History in Pictures. It’s going to be made into an exhibit for the Florida Aviation Museum [Florida Air Museum] in Lakeland. And he gave me the assignment of handling the Cape. So, I had contacted Washington[, D.C.] and Houston and obtained the transparencies I needed to have prints made.
And I—well, later—and this was on April the 11th of ’94—the SUN ‘n FUN air show was going on, and they closed the museum there at Lakeland [Linder Regional] Airport to have a dedication ceremony for our exhibit that the Florida Aviation Historical Society put on—Florida Aviation in Pictures. And so, I attended that, and I had my camera, and I was photographing our president, Hoffman, as he was at the podium, and the director of the SUN ‘n FUN started identifying celebrities or people in the crowd. And he mentioned Curtis Brown, and I lit up and knew immediately who it was. I turned, and I went straight, I left the podium and went straight to him, and I asked him if he would pose for me in front of the exhibit I put together on the Cape, there in the museum. And he did. He posed with me and the president in there, and I didn’t know at the time, but Curt Brown also carried aloft on his mission, STS-66, later. A few months later, he carried aloft a decal and a document from the museum, the SUN ‘n FUN museum. Now it’s the Florida Aviation Museum.
So, as it turned out, I got a chance to meet him and talk with him, and he recalled getting a picture from me of one of the launches when he was at CAPCON, one of the controllers of a mission at Houston. Okay. I told Astronaut Brown that if I got good a picture at his launch, I would send it to him and ask him to autograph it, and so forth. As it turned out, November the 3rd of that year, it was the best picture I’ve ever taken. And I set up two cameras, same location, just to be—to try to get a good picture, and it turned out that way. It’s done very well for me. In fact, a 30 x 40 is hanging in that Florida Aviation Museum now, in Lakeland, as well as in the Viera Hospital, Viera Hospital over here on the coast, near Kennedy. And then the Kennedy Space Center Media Center, and different places. Anyway, Curt Brown later was the commander of the mission that flew John Glenn back into space.
And, well, I want to back up just a few days, because that dedication ceremony took place on the 11th of April of 1984. On the 8th of April of, just a few days earlier, STS-59 Endeavor was to launch on the 8th. And I was out at the fire training tower in the boonies, which was actually about four miles from the pad where the shuttle was. I was out there getting ready to photograph the launch, and up these metal stairs came Ronald Howard, Opie [Taylor] of The Andy Griffith Show, and now a director, producer—anyway, a movie star. His wife and daughter, along with Tom Hanks and his wife. And NASA escorts had brought them up there right beside me, to where I was shooting from. Well, I had a very powerful pair of binoculars—ten power—and they only weighed about nine ounces—Pentax—and I decided to let them use them to look at the shuttle from where we were. And that was the 8th of April, and that day, the shuttle was scrubbed and didn’t go up. But the next day, Tom Hanks couldn’t come with his wife. They had to go back or they couldn’t make it, but Ron Howard walked up to the stairs with his wife and daughter, came straight to me, and said, “Your binoculars are on the front page of The Orlando Sentinel this morning.” Here Tom Hanks is with my binoculars, looking at the shuttle.
Well anyway, I let Ron Howard have my binoculars so they could use them to look at the launch. Well, I photographed it, and he let his daughter use them, and they stood right next to me as the shuttle actually launched on the 9th of April. Well, I told Ron Howard—in fact, I brought the picture of him next to me, I brought that up and he autographed it right on the spot. But I told him that I knew the pilot, Curt Brown—no, Kevin Chilton, I want to back up there. The pilot then was Kevin Chilton. I knew the pilot and I would have an autographed picture sent to him for his daughter, and I did that later. I got a NASA photo, 8 x 10, and had Chilton autograph it, and I sent it to Ron Howard. But, having a chance to meet Ron Howard and Tom Hanks and everything there, for a launch, was a highlight that I don’t want to forget. You can pause if you want to.
Miller
My name is Mark Miller and I am interviewing…
Kinlaw-Best
Christine [Kinlaw-Best].
Miller
Christine. Alright. And this is March 2nd at the History Harvest at the Public History Center—2013.
Kinlaw-Best
Okay.
Miller
And we just want to ask you a few questions on what brought you here or what is it that you are sharing with us.
Kinlaw-Best
I found the notice on Facebook and so…
Miller
Very nice.
Kinlaw-Best
Uh-huh. I had you know—how you click, like, on the Public History Center and so I saw the notice on Facebook and saw the call for the local artifacts for the school. And so I gathered up some of my things for this school and brought them down.
Miller
And what are there—what are some of your things?
Kinlaw-Best
I brought—my whole family went to this school from the time it was built—when it opened its doors in 1902. Two of my older great-aunts though moved away, so I don’t have their report cards, but I did bring report cards of one of my great-aunts[1] from 1907, when the building was just five years old.
Miller
That is exciting.
Kinlaw-Best
A brand new building. So I have her report card from then. And I brought a picture of her so she would kind of go with the report card. And then her younger sister—my grandmother[2]—attended here also. I brought one of her report cards that’s a hundred years old. It’s from 1913, when she was here in the third grade. And I brought my uncle’s[3] report card from 1914, so that’s 99 years old [laughs]. And then my mom and dad both went here. I happen to actually have one of my mom’s report cards from here that actually, you know—it’s like the rest. It’s Sanford Grammar [School] and that one’s 80 years old. It’s from 1933. And then I went here all through elementary school, in this building.
Miller
Oh, wow.
Kinlaw-Best
Fifty years ago. So, our whole family went through here. And by the time my kids came along, of course, obviously the school had then been closed and not in use anymore as an elementary school.
Miller
Did your whole family collect this or was this your idea?
Kinlaw-Best
Ah, it was—well, my aunt had her things, and when she passed away, my mom got it. And when my mom passed away, I got it, so it’s been as, you know—generations have passed on, then it’s all made its way down to me.
Miller
So this has been a personal experience for you.
Kinlaw-Best
Uh-huh.
Miller
The entire school. Everything about that.
Kinlaw-Best
Yes.
Miller
Is there, uh—for instance, what are the significance of these items to you personally? I mean…
Kinlaw-Best
It’s, um, my family [laughs]. That’s the best way I can think of it. Its significance is preserving my family’s stories. Just as my granddaughter now is excited about things, because I went to Seminole—well, we go back once again, Seminole High School, which is here. It was Sanford High School first, but my granddaughter likes to brag that six or seven generations have all gone to the same high school. And, of course, Daddy went to Seminole and played football for them. I went to Seminole and now my 16 year old granddaughter is at Seminole High School. So, you know, that’s what these mean to me, is, ah, carrying on the family.
Miller
Yeah. You—I think you have a unique story. I’m sure there’s not too many along those lines.
Kinlaw-Best
Uh-huh.
Miller
We want to thank you very much for bringing this in—it’s a tremendous asset. We want to thank you for that.
Kinlaw-Best
You bet.
Miller
Is there anything you might want to add about your experiences or anything you had in this school—I mean of this sort…
Kinlaw-Best
One thing I’d like to try to think of and remember is when my great aunt was going here in 1907, it was only just this building. The two wings didn’t exist yet and so when you—even though this looks so big from the outside, when you stop and think about it, you can see why they needed to add the wings almost immediately, because there really aren’t that many classrooms in just this building. Because so much of it was upstairs was auditorium and, of course, even when I came here, we didn’t have a lunch room in the building, we had to go out and into the back and have lunch out back.
So my grandmother told stories of—I was just telling one of the girls in there—when she came to school here, of course, there was not a “motorized” school bus. And so the horse’s hooves—it was a horse-drawn buggy thing, like a big trailer that had rows of hard seats and a top on it and it had canvas sides that rolled up. And Grandma used to always talk about how you could tell when it was time for the bus, because Sanford’s cobblestone streets—you would hear the clup, clup, clup, clup, clup of the horses coming and the kids knew to run outside and the bus would pull up and you got in the wagon. If it was hot, the sides were rolled up. If it was raining, the sides were rolled down and they drove you here to the front of the school and dropped the kids off. And then the “bus-driver” [laughs], with his horse, would literally park out back here, right behind the school. And he would just hang around all day. And ‘cause school was only a few hours then too, they only went about three or four hours a day here. So then when they were finished, he—the kids just all loaded back up in the wagon and he proceeded to drive all around Sanford and let everyone out again in front of their house. So that’s a special memory to me of Gram telling me about “the Bus” for this school.
Miller
Everybody had their chores to get home to and…
Kinlaw-Best
And most everybody worked in the field. Everybody was farmers here, in Seminole County. So you had to get home and work in the fields. They also went to school like four months out of the year.
Miller
Oh.
Kinlaw-Best
That was a whole school year. So the rest of the time you were helping your parents with farming. So…
Miller
Was it the same with you when you attended here? Was it…
Kinlaw-Best
When I attended we were already back to the whole full long day. Uh-huh.
Miller
Alright.
Kinlaw-Best
So, I say that like “long day.” I guess every kid thought that about their school then. So anyway, that’s mostly about it.
Miller
Well, with the wings and the rapid growth, it is a testament to how quickly Sanford was growing.
Kinlaw-Best
Right.
Miller
And your family was definitely part of that.
Kinlaw-Best
One thing I did want to just mention to you—because for so long it was called just “Sanford Grammar”—but this school had a long period it was called “Westside Grammar” [Elementary School] too, and I know a lot of people think maybe that it might be a different school, but it’s not. This—this building was west—all through the 60s was called “Westside Grammar,” because at that time we had Eastside Grammar, which is the little bitty school over on Palmetto [Avenue] and we had Southside. All of them had original names. Westside, Eastside, and Southside. But Southside is over off of Thirteenth Street and so this building was called Westside Grammar for at least through the 60s, when I went here. All of my report cards and even the class pictures are all stamped Westside Grammar. So I just wanted to put that in too, so there’s not any confusion if ya’ll look at those and go, “Oh, that’s not Sanford Grammar,” ‘cause it is. It is still Sanford Grammar. It’s just for a while there was called “Westside Grammar.”
Miller
So Eastside was the original grammar school? Or…
Kinlaw-Best
Ah. Eastside is the one—the little—it was the Tajiri Arts Building, it’s on Ninth [Street] and Palmetto. And that one was built around 1880. That building is still standing. And that was the original and only elementary school and that’s why this was the high school and that was the elementary.
Miller
Oh. Okay.
Kinlaw-Best
But it was called “Eastside Primary.” and Southside is still standing. It’s a retirement home now—in the school. And this was Sanford Grammar and then Westside Grammar and then back to Sanford Grammar again. [Laughs]. So…
Miller
Which is the Little Red Schoolhouse?
Kinlaw-Best
That’s the one I’m talking about. Over on, uh-huh…
Miller
Okay.
Kinlaw-Best
Eastside Grammar. I have pictures of it with the big sign across, over the door that says Eastside Primary. But all the celery farmers and the kids from the Eastside,like going out towards the beach—towards New Smyrna [Beach]. That’s—those kids went there and the west-side farmers, which were out First Street, like going towards Seminole Towne Center Mall. That’s where I grew-up. You came here, because you were the “westside kids,” and then the kids to the south of the city went to Southside.
Miller
Oh. That’s great!
Kinlaw-Best
So…
Miller
If you have—want to share those pictures, you know, you said you have pictures of these time-lines. Anything of that nature, where you’re interested in, especially someone of such great experience with the school system in this area.
Kinlaw-Best
Okay.
Miller
Excellent.
Kinlaw-Best
Okay.
Miller
Well, thank you very much.
Kinlaw-Best
You’re welcome.
Miller
It was tremendous and we really appreciate everything.
Kinlaw-Best
Thank you. You bet.
Miller
Alright.