Dossie
My name is Porsha Dossie. This is an oral history interview of [Alice] Kathryn Aulin…
Bunch
Bunch.
Dossie
Bunch, and it is April 18th, 2015, and we are at the Lawton House in Oviedo, Florida.
Bunch
Yes.
Dossie
So, Kathryn, please tell me a little bit about growing up in Oviedo. You were born here? Is that correct?
Bunch
I was born here in[sic] July 2nd, 19, uh, 26 [laughs], and lived here ‘til I graduated from high school, but most everything we, uh, did, we did it e—either at the church or at school. That was[sic] our activities in those days—back in those days.
Dossie
Uh, you went to the Oviedo School? Is that right?
Bunch
Uh huh, it was just one school. You went from first through, um, twelfth, and then you graduated from there, and it was only three of us that graduated, because it was wartime. Not that we had that many to start with, but with—it was ‘cause of the war and the boys were gone—had gone off to be in service during World War II.
Dossie
What was that like?
Bunch
We just got used to the war. We—I mean, like, a lot of things that were different—uh, you were limited, uh, to a lot of things back then that, Uh, you couldn’t, uh,—you couldn’t buy clothe[sic]—or shoes—leather shoes. You were limited to so many like that and things, uh, but other than that, we got used to it, and, uh, had, uh, some—I—I was older when I was—in high school, I was—had boyfriends that would go off to the service and come—and not come back, and that was sorta sad too, uh, in those days. We had servicemen stationed in, uh—in the [Armed] Service, uh, in the woods near here too, as well as—they were—their main place was in Orlando, but they would be over here at different times, and my father[1] ran the—we had two swimming pools, and there was, um, dance hall there, and, uh, he ran the swimming pools, and we—that’s where we had a number of the service boys—would come and dance there with—as well as the local, but we didn’t have that many local boys of that age around anymore. So…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
That was it.
Dossie
What were the swimming pools called?
Bunch
They were the Oviedo swimming pool. It was, um, by the city, and they did away with ‘em. Uh, I have a couple of pictures of them that—I don’t know if they still ever—that—there’s—it still belongs to the City [of Oviedo].
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
The property does, but the pools have been done away with, and they got ballparks there or somethin’ now, but that was the thing to do. Uh, we had a sm—a small and a large one, uh, and he man—he managed those for—during that period of, um—my daddy did for a while.
Dossie
Was that the—Sanlando?
Bunch
No, we went to Sanlando when you went—go on a big date[?].
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
[laughs] I have a picture of, uh—of the three…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
The three seniors at Sanlando, and it, uh—in my book, or it’s in our yearbook, I think.
Dossie
So tell me a bit about your yearbook. I know you brought that with you today…
Bunch
Uh huh.
Dossie
To be scanned. You made that yourself?
Bunch
We, uh—we put it together, although I’m sure somebody else helped us, uh, but we did have to glue the pictures in, and, uh, I noticed that I—in the other one—the year before me—that we typed the words in there, and actually, I noticed that in one place, the typing—if we made a mistake, instead of erasing the letters, just typed back over it, which [laughs] would not be a thing to have done, I don’t think, in those days, but they’re hand-typed. I mean, everything was done by hand, not woven books and things, like they are nowadays, but other than that—and we had an awful of, uh—I was a Baptist, and we all went to the Baptist church, and did most everything—social life was there, as well as school. Those were our two main things [sniffs] to do during—but other than that, I don’t—I…
When we left Orlando, we still [inaudible], uh—I graduated from high school, but I had a job in Orlando, uh, my last year, and I started working at the bank. My sister—older sister[2]—two years older than me—was already working in Orlando, so I moved from Oviedo to Orlando, and been there the rest of my life, after that.
Dossie
So you, uh—what did you do at the bank?
Bunch
Teller. When you started out, in those days, at the bottom, you learned every step. Nowadays, I understand you go in whatever department you’re gonna—but you—you started answering the phone, then[?] learning the each thing—bookkeeping—and, uh, I ended up—I was a teller when I left.
Dossie
So how did you meet your husband?[3]
Bunch
That was—my mother-in-law[4] was a big person to go into bank, and I understood she wanted my husband, who was in the service—and I didn’t know ‘im. I knew her from being a customer at the bank, but, uh, she wanted to have him meet her—my sister, but for some reason, he just—and she was already there two years ahead of me.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
But for some reason, he would rather have met me, so…
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
[laughs] I dated him, and we met, uh—we married later on, uh, after he’d come out of the service. He was a—in the—she had, uh, property in—in, uh, cattle and dairy and a ranch, and he was in the ranch business at that time, after he came out of the service, and we married, had two girls,[5] and that’s been it.
Dossie
So, um, growing up in Oviedo, you knew the, uh, Wheelers and the Evans? Is that correct?
Bunch
The Wheelers were actually kin—uh, my daddy’s sister, Mary Ann, um—Mattie, uh, Wheeler[6] married, uh—he—that’s his sister—married [Robert] Lee Wheeler, who was a brother to Frank Wheeler, uh, that had Nelson and Company and those[?]…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
And there was the Law—Lawtons and the, uh, Lees, and the—all those were, uh—they—they were the people in Oviedo, and everybody knew everybody back in those days.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
And, uh, I actually—my daddy, uh—the man that, uh—my daddy’s dad[7]—that named Oviedo was born—he was—the house at where he was born is still here,[8] as I understand. It doesn’t look anything like it did…
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
Back then. They’ve changed it around, but it’s still there.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
But…
Dossie
So you said the Wheelers were kin?
Bunch
Yes, uh, Lee Wheeler—my aunt married—was a brother to Frank Wheeler. That—like I said, they were—and, um—and I think I, uh—we’ve got the background all in—in all these books and things, and[?] the Lawtons—there’s a com—combination of—way back there, with all those—that’s first started. Now, about the Lees, I’m not real sure, but they were here too. They were another family that was—but everybody knew everybody…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
Back in those days—and you—for some reason, we never did—did—my sister and I have talked about it since—why the women went to the Methodist church—most of ‘em—of the husband and wife, and the men went to the Baptist church. I, uh—not in our family, but m—most of ‘em—a lot of ‘em, that’s the way it worked, and you—still, you got together, eh, for socials and things like—I mean, you got together with the two churches, but for some reason, the women all seemed to be—want, uh—go to the Methodist church, and we—but I went to the Baptist all my life and still do [laughs].
Dossie
What kind of social events did you guys have at the Baptist church?
Bunch
Well, just, uh—just nothing really that much. Uh, picnic-type things, and, uh, we had, uh, training you, uh—the one thing I did do, which isn’t the thing[?] to try to tell, uh, we had BYPU[9] or BTU, we called it—Baptist Training Union—at night, which is like—Sunday mornin’, you have Sunday school, and at night, and I would have a date. I could go to trainin’ union and not stay for church at[sic] Sunday night, and this was a, uh, typical thing, and it—I wasn’t the only one that did this. It was a—but that was the thing to do Sunday night, and we’d—we’d go to Winter Park. Uh, that was the place to go after—and, uh, go, uh, to a movie, and then go to, uh, get Coke and a sandwich, and come home. That was just a typical Sunday, uh, night. We went to, uh—did that, back in those days, but we didn’t, uh—anything that we had as far as social things, uh—there weren’t that many. I mean, it was something at the church, or, uh, it was eating or something, and I’m, uh—but, uh, other than that, I don’t remember too much, but[?] that’s about it. I [laughs]…
Dossie
So let me ask you about, um, the influence of the military on Oviedo in the 1940s. How did that affect your life here in Oviedo?
Bunch
It—it did. Like I said, we met a lot of them men that were stationed here, and, uh, That’s when we could go to the pool and, uh, could dance, and Met a lot of ‘em that way, and then, uh—but, uh—and some of them even dated other people, because I remember, uh, one going with my sister to church. Uh, I mean, they were close enough friends if they were doing that, back in—they were very good. I—we didn’t—we didn’t mind ‘em being here, by any means. It was something going on. ‘Course, war was just so different, anyhow, back then. I mean—and then when they left here, we went, uh—moved to Orlando, and we still did things with the service people there, uh, at the different things that were for so—the soldiers back then too. Went to dances and things like that. That was mainly what most of the things were. Although, I have some pictures I’ve seen that we were at a lake out there at the—at the, uh, base[10] in our bathing suits and things, with the boys out there. So we did do things out there at the base too.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
Uh, but it was just different than things are nowadays [laughs], but an awful lot of boys stayed—married people and, uh—and just like in Sanford, they married, uh—a lot of the Navy people are married to Sanford people too. So other than that, I really don’t know too much to report on that.
Dossie
So we can discuss some of the items you brought today. You brought your yearbook? Um…
Bunch
Yeah.
Dossie
What else did you bring?
Bunch
Well, the, um—my, uh, my sister-in-law wanted a copy of a letter that was written by Steen Nelson, as to how Oviedo was named. Our fa—grandfather, they say named—I mean, and—why he named it Oviedo and that business. So I—that’s in the—one of those copies, and I had an annual, uh, yearbook for the fo—where we got to get together for our 50th, uh—the other class—we didn’t have but two that showed up, but they—for our 50th anniver—graduatin’, we have a book on that. That’s in—in those things that I saved, uh, but we didn’t have but two that showed up for that [laughs]. That was me and, uh, one boy, and he’s still here in Oviedo, I understand.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
Auliff[?] [inaudible], and, um, other than that, I don’t know…
Dossie
You brought some…
Bunch
Uh…
Dossie
44s?
Bunch
Uh, my letters for my—I got a—I was, uh—played basketball in high school…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
When I was—got a 44 and a[sic] O for, uh, my letter, with my stripes and stars on it for being captain—co-captain, and, uh, they’re in there—the O and the 44, and I also have an [U.S. Army Air Force Aircraft Warning Service] armband that I got from havin’ watched planes go over, uh, during wartime. We—we each had a shift. They had a tower they built over in Downtown Oviedo, and, uh—in front of the [First] Baptist Church [of Oviedo], and, uh, we would report whatever plane was going over and[?] the direction, and I’m pre—I’m thinking we were reporting back to the base, or somethin’, what kind of plane. Now, why I would know, uh—I’m sure they taught us how and all that.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
But that was what it was, and they gave us an arm—and I have that in there to give to the His—[Oviedo] Historical Society.
Dossie
What was that like watching the planes overhead?
Bunch
Uh, I don’t know.
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
I’m thinkin’ back. I—I don’t know that I was that smart about it, but I guess they were tryin’ to get—and they would get more[?] girl—people they would get…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
On, uh—and you had a shift, I’m sure, you know, and, uh, went[?]—went there after school or whenever. Maybe it was a weekend, um—on the weekend. I—I just know we did it same time at—why they chose to do it right[?] there in Oviedo? I don’t know. I guess they did it in all kind of different areas of the—around the bases, but, uh, that was part of it, and—and they gave us a[sic] armband to put on that says that that’s what you were. So I have—I saved that and my letters, and I never did use ‘em for anything. I didn’t put ‘em on a sweater, I don’t think.
Dossie
Hm.
Bunch
But that was about it. It wasn’t very [laughs], uh—not—not like it was nowadays with young people, and things[?] goin’ up, but was good.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
I’ve enjoyed it.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
I had, uh, two sisters[11] and, uh, two brothers,[12] and, uh, so we had pretty good-sized family to—to deal with, and my daddy—as well as having the pool, he did do a lot with examining fruit, uh, to be sure it was ready to be picked and that, and he did that for quite a few years too—too, and my mother[13] worked at Nelson and Son, but she was a seamstress, and she did a lot of, uh, sewing for people. Uh, you know, the [inaudible].
Dossie
So they both working at the Nelson packing company here?
Bunch
Mmhmm, both ‘em had, mmhmm. matter of fact, my mother was working there when my youngest brother[14] was still too—too young, uh—little to go to school, and she would—would keep him in one of the—the places where they were packin’ the oranges, and I—when school was out, I’d go out do there and get him and go back home with him, and I got a nickel to go by the drugstore, which was in the center of Downtown Oviedo, to get a Coca-Cola, and—and he[?] got ‘em off of a fountain. The man behind the fountain would give[?] them to you. That was one thing I remember—and ordered—that was my payment for…
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
Eh, takin’ care of him ‘til she got home.
Dossie [laughs].
Bunch
But, uh, we did—didn’t have a lot of money, but we had—we had plenty to get by with, and that was the way it worked in those days.
Dossie
So tell me about, uh, your siblings. You just—you mentioned that you had brothers and sisters.
Bunch
Well, I had one girl—one sister that was two years older, and, uh, she was smart—very smart, and, uh—and why she—how she got the job in Orlando ahead of time? I don’t know, but anyway, she moved over there, and, uh, as a teller at the bank, and, uh—and I—we did not go to college that much in those days. The girls didn’t then[?], and, uh, [inaudible] we couldn’t have afforded it anyway, I’m sure, but, uh, she liked the bank and was doing alright and had a place in Orlando called the [inaudible] Community Club, which was right down near the center of Downtown Orlando, and, uh, you stayed there and you got your food and that kind of stuff, and she knew that I was graduatin’ and that—she thought I’d get a job there, so I did. I went over and applied and they gave it to me, and I moved in and we stayed there at the [inaudible] Community[?] Club, and that’s when went to a place in Downtown Orlando to dance with the USO.[15] Uh—they had a place for—but, uh, she started making too much money to stay at [inaudible] Community[?] Club, which was part of the deal. I mean, the—and so we all moved to a place down out of there, uh, and then—but stayed there ‘til I get married—met my husband and we got married, and that was it, but then I have a sister that’s here, and she’s giving information today. She’s an artist, and I had a brother,[16] but he went to Texas. He—he was in the service, uh, also, and he’s no longer living, and my older sister isn’t either, but my other sister’s here, and she’s[sic] lives in Lake Mary, and, um, is an artist, and she’s doing a lot of work today for them, and then I’ve got my brother[17] that lives here in Oviedo, and he and his wife[18] live here, and that’s it—that I…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
With us—the rest of the family, but all the rest of ‘em are gone, but we’ve got the sister here and the brother here, and that’s—and me—of the family—of the five of us. That’s what’s left. I’m the oldest of the group.
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
[laughs].
Dossie
Well, is there anything else you’d like to tell me about Oviedo that we haven’t covered yet?
Bunch
No, it’s, eh—it—it is—nothing the same.
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
I don’t know my way around it at all. I—I just cannot—I—how much the church, uh—how big it is, uh—has added and added to, uh, and I came out, went to church [inaudible], and there was no—well, the person that I—only person I knew that I saw—that I knew that day and he’s [inaudible]. He was a Wheeler—Frank Wheeler, Jr., and, um, I didn’t know anybody, and—just like I don’t know anybody out here nowadays, uh, but, uh, my mother is, uh—she’s been dead a pretty good while, and, uh, that—once she was gone, then I didn’t come back out like I did to—did later on, but, uh, it’s grown, and that’s for sure, and I keep seeing it goin’ more too, but other than that—and back in our day, we didn’t have anything but a Methodist and Baptist church. Now, I’m sure they got all of ‘em different ones…
Dossie
[laughs].
Bunch
Now, out here now.
Dossie
Has the growth surprised you?
Bunch
Yes, it really has. It’s—it’s—it is—it’s much—than I would’ve thought when I was growing up, yes, um, ‘cause like I said, you knew everybody, but I think it’s this way with other small towns, but probably the way they do, but this one has grown from what it was back in our day. That’s for sure, but other than that, I don’t know. Eh, I—I really don’t know of any other—and I don’t know if I know anybody that lives out here, except my sister—my brother-in-law—my brother and sister-in-law, and, uh, Bettye [Jean Aulin Reagan] has, um—her child is out here now, but I don’t know any of the past, uh—I—that’s why I said when I was looking in that, uh, yearbook, I don’t know that there’d be anybody anymore, and as old as I am, um, I’m—I guess I’m one of—of, uh, the older ones that would be, uh…
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
Out here nowadays.Knowing how—I know people go to their 90s and that, but I still—they can’t, uh—back in my day, I don’t—I don’t know if there’s anybody that much more out here that I would’ve known, unless I was kin to ‘em, and I don’t have anybody out here now. So—but things have sure changed, and I do see there are, uh, in the b—block that we called[?] goin’ around Oviedo, uh, some of those houses, when we’ve gone, are still there. That—which is odd. Very—they’ve been there quite a while. Like I said, where my daddy was born,[19] uh, it’s still there these days, but it doesn’t look anything like it—I mean, they changed it all around—backyard and everything.
Dossie
Mmhmm.
Bunch
But I don’t have that much to contribute [laughs] to Oviedo. That’s for sure.
Dossie
Oh, you definitely…
Bunch
And, um…
Dossie
Told us some great…
Bunch
Yeah.
Dossie
Information today.
Bunch
Yeah, so I think that’s enough.
Dossie
Well, we’re going to bring the interview to a close. I wanna thank you so much…
Bunch
Thank you.
Dossie
For being interviewed, and I really appreciate you coming out here and doing [inaudible] did.
Bunch
Okay [laughs].
[1] Andrew Aulin, Jr.
[2] Mary Leonora Aulin Bartlett.
[3] Richard Burdette Bunch.
[4] Mary Bunch.
[5] Mary Kathryn Bunch Hamby and Billy Beatrice Bunch Parrot.
[6] Martha Lenora Aulin Wheeler.
[7] Andrew Aulin, Sr.
[8] Correction: Andew Aulin, Sr. was born in Sweden.
[9] Baptist Young Peoples Union.
[10] Naval Training Center (NTC) Orlando.
[11] Mary Lenora Aulin Bartlett and Bettye Jean Aulin Reagan.
[12] Charles Warren Aulin and Andrew Aulin, Jr.
[13] Mary Alice Powell Aulin.
[14] Andrew Aulin, Jr.
[15] United Service Organizations.
[16] Charles Warren Aulin.
[17] Andrew Aulin, Jr.
[18] Julia Nadine Davis Aulin.
[19] May 20, 1893.
Montgomery
This is the oral history interview of Ingrid Bryant, and the interview is being conducted on March 21st, 2015, by Erin Montgomery at the interviewee’s home in Oviedo, Florida, and The topics of this interview will include Oviedo history and, uh, Central Florida history. I also I just want to let you know that I’m gonna to be, um, as quiet as I can, um, not to be rude, or not to risk[?]—like…
Bryant
I know.
Montgomery
Uh, but to just, uh, keep the audio, um, clear—I guess is the—the idea, um—and less noisy. So do you have any questions before I start asking you questions?
Bryant
Not really.
Montgomery
Okay, alright. So, um, where were you born?
Bryant
I was born in Munich, Germany, on February 21st, 1944, in the height of the Second World War. My mother married an American soldier in 1955, who brought my brother and I—my brother Norbert and myself and my mom to America. They—he was with the [U.S.] Air Force. he was stationed at Pinecastle Air Force Base,[1] which is now the jetport that we have for—that was the Air Force Base, and, uh, we went to school in Orlando—Cherokee Junior High School—my brother and I.
I, unfortunately, never applied myself to learn English. It—it wasn’t really offered in Germany in those days yet, and so I came here not speaking English. My grandmother told me that if I didn’t like America, that I have to give it a year, but she’ll send me a plane ticket—no, not a plane ticket. She hated planes. A—a boat ticket to come back to Germany. Well, I arrived in America, stepped on American soil on January 3, 1958. So I said, Well, you know, grandma’s gonna get me back home, so I don’t really need to stay here, because the children can be quite—not so understanding about anything that’s different than what they’re used to. So I was being made fun of ver—uh, very badly and it hurt my feelings, ‘cause I was[sic] always wanted—wanted to fit in. That didn’t happen in Orlando, and they—they really didn’t know what to do with me, ‘cause there were no ESOL [English as a Second Language] lessons. So here’s my year: uh, we get a, uh, telegram December 15th that my grandmother had passed. so there went my chance at ever getting back to Germany. So I said, Well, Ingrid, got to make the best of a bad situation, and my mom, in the meantime, knowing my difficulties, she found this place called Oviedo.
Now, my gen—and she was told they had a good school there. Mind you: I come from Munich, Germany, which at that point, in 1958, had a population of one million people. So it was already culture shock coming to Orlando, ‘cause it was quite small and, of course, no circus, no opera, no nothing[sic] like that, but we already had that, because the American Marshall Plan,[2] that was in place after the war, had helped rebuild Germany, and I am eternally grateful to not only to my American soldiers, but to the American people that[sic] sent care packages over there, and get—I had clothes, and the American soldiers—they shared their food with us—their rations—and I had my first Juicy Fruit gum and so forth, when I was a little girl, but—o we come to Chuluota, which at that time, was a development that—that just had started up it and was low-income housing, more or less, but it was, you know—there were nice houses, and my mom found one that she said, “Well, we’ll move here, then you can go to school in Oviedo.”
I went to Oviedo High School, and, uh, it was completely like night and day. They accepted me, and my English teacher—she told me, “When you graduate from Oviedo High School, you will be speaking English.” I said, Yeah, right, and, uh,my math teacher let me do my math wor—you know, the way I worked my problems the way I was taught in Germany. She said as long as I worked the problem—Ms. Deshaso[sp]—then—and I have the right answer, then she would accept that, so that worked. My history teacher—God bless him. He was also the coach of Oviedo High School, and he—He was the most patriotic man you would ever wanna meet, and he instilled the love of America to me. I already knew America was special, however, the way he taught history—and in 1960— was the first year that we had Americanism vs. communism. They brought in an ol’ TV, like we used to have—black and white—and we had an hour of that a week, and I said, Oh, my goodness, you know, with this—and then Sputnik and all of that happened right about that time.
I managed to get a command of the English language, and yes, I graduated from Oviedo High Schools[sic], and I learned English, and then, I wanted to become an American citizen. So I went to Coach [Paul] Mikler—they named the—the baseball field after him in Oviedo. I went to him and I said “Coach, I want to become a citizen. What do I do?” He said, “Just do it.”
So in 1967, I became an American citizen. I was given a booklet to read, that I read from cover to cover, memorized whatever I could, and when I got there to the George C., um, Young [Federal], uh, Courthouse, which is now the Diocese of Orlando in Orlando. They bought that building. I went there and I thought, Oh, boy. I am good to go, and I get to the examiner and she asks me three questions: Who is the first president? Who is the president now? And what are the first two—Ten Amendments to the [U.S.] Constitution? And I said, “Now what?” She says, “That’s good.” she says, “good.” I[sic] says, “I know you can write English.” I say “Yeah, but is that all your asking me when I memorized that whole book?” She says “That’s all I need you to do. You know what you’re doing,” and so I became an American citizen in September, and then I—I had gotten—no let me backtrack.
My brother, Norbert, that came to—from Germany with me—he was a year younger than me. that’s him up there, and, uh, He, uh—he, uh, kind of excelled, because he went to the accelerated schools in Germany that we start—we’re at fourth grade, and they test us, and then we are separated to go to über die Realschule, which he did, but, of course, his silly sister that was older than him didn’t measure up. So he—he did not have the difficulty learning English like I did. He had one of those photographic minds. He could just—but when I came to Oviedo, there was one—another culture shock waiting for me. I had to repeat the ninth grade, which put me in the same grade as my brother, which at the time was a big help to me, but was also not what I wanted.
1963, I graduated with my brother on June 10th. July—I mean June 23rd, I married an Oviedo boy. July 16th, my brother Norbert was killed in a car accident. it was an accident. So he’s buried at the Oviedo Cemetery. So that was very difficult, very difficult, ‘til this day, I miss my brother, but from the marriage I had from my first husband, I have three children: Christopher, Patricia, and Tina—Christina. I had to name her after her brother, because he wanted a brother and she had turned out to be a sister. so he got a sister named after him. Then I—I had a little difficulty with my first husband when I wanted to name our first child, which was Christopher, after my brother, Norbert. He wouldn’t—he didn’t want me to do that. So I didn’t.
Then, I married my second husband, after that marriage didn’t make it, and his name was Norbert. He was German like me. I said “God, you have a sense of humor, don’t you?” I was 35 years old. I end up pregnant, and I have my little Norbert. He’s now 35 years old. So that worked out to my favor too. From my four children, I now have nine grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, which I’m a very blessed lady.
My other thing that—Oviedo has been holy ground to me. They’ve been good to me. When I wanted a job, they had an, uh—they needed a customer service rep]resentative for the City of Oviedo. This was in 1986. At that time, they hired me for the water department to collect the monies and do—be accounts receivable, so to speak. I was good at math, and, uh—so I went to work and my boss interviewed me—A. M. Jones. They named the water plant after him, and he says, “Mrs. Ingrid, why would you wanna work in Oviedo? You’re never going to make any money here.” I said, “Because I want to give back.” I said, “You’re going to pay me a living.” I said, “I want to give back. You—Oviedo taught me English. Oviedo took me in, and made me feel very special.” So he hired me and I retired there in 2004.
At that point, all along, when we came from Germany, there was never a Catholic church in Oviedo, and my mom—he wrote the Vatican in the early [19]60s, and they gave us a priest to come out and say Mass in Chuluota at the [Chuluota] Sportsman Club—it was called—which is now the Girl Scout [Citrus] Camp in Chuluota. So she managed to do that. When they decide—and the developer of Chuluota gave us seven acres so we could build a church and a school, and that was back in the early ‘60s. So the Diocese of St. Augustine, which was—we were under, at that point. the Orlando Diocese wasn’t established ‘til 1968. Bishop Joseph Patrick Hurley decided to build St. Joseph’s [Catholic Church] in Union Park first, and he said we would be next. Well, that didn’t happen.
So I kept—when we came to Diocese of Orlando, I decided to go on a writing campaign. I like to write letters, and, uh, I would ask the bishops, you know, “Can we have a Catholic church in Oviedo?” And I’d get letters back saying—they couldn’t say we didn’t have any property, because we did—Chuluota-Oviedo. To me, it’s about the same, and so they told me, “We have no priest.” so—okay. I bought off on that. So 1996 comes along, and my mom passes away, and on her—she’s 71, and on her deathbed, she said to me, “Ingrid, you still don’t have that Catholic church.” I said “Mom, I been trying.” She said, “Try harder.” About the same time, this doctor comes into my office, who moved into Oviedo. No, actually, he came earlier. Let me back track. He came in earlier, and I noticed his name was Carlos Velez-Munich. I said, Munich? Dear Lord. Is this another sign? Just like my little Norbert that I managed to come—that came—that I wanted.
So 1996, I had this lady, Anna Marcantoni[sp]—she used to help me file at the city, because I was busy collecting money, making sure the right accounts were hit in the—in the systems and so forth and so on, and so she would come in and she’d file my applications for me, and she says, Ingrid, “Spanish community wants a Catholic church in Oviedo too.” I said, “They do?” She says, “Yeah, we have formed a—a group called Grupo Shalom.” I said, “well, get me in touch with whoever is in charge of that.” I said, “I need to talk to them. I said, “I’ve been trying forever to get this church and my mom said I’d better work harder.”
So I got to meet Dr. Velez, and they had a meeting, and he got us an appointment with the—with, uh, Father [Richard] Walsh, in St. Margaret Mary [Catholic Church] in Winter Park. He got us a—an appointment with—you’re not going to believe what bishop that was—Bishop Norbert [Mary Leonard James] Dorsey. So that is what started the—getting Most Precious Blood Catholic Church. So there was a standing joke in the [Oviedo] City Hall that if Ingrid ever gets her church, she can address the property. So I just came back from Barbados with my aunt, and, uh, my friend called me and she said, “Ingrid, you have to”—Laura Feldman, and she’s Jewish, mind ya. I’m Catholic. She says, “Ingrid, you have to come down here. Diocese wants an address for this property, and I can’t move until you come and do it.” So I addressed the property: 113 Lockwood Boulevard, and so then we had our first Mass on the 24th of April, 2005, which we’re now having our anniversary—for 10 year anniversary. Unbelievable. Un—incredible what this town has meant to me, along with everything goes along with it. So I consider myself blessed. Now, my passion was getting the church, which I succeeded.
My other passion is getting a museum in Oviedo. We had—I—I love the [Oviedo] Historical Society, and I’ve always been involved in history,’ cause in Germany, history has always been right to the forefront. I mean—we try not to let history repeat itself over there, but it did with two world wars, but again—so I’ve been on a kind of a mission—sort of wanting this museum, and when Mrs. Clara [Lee Wheeler] Evans made a bequest of an acre property on Oviedo Street for the historical society to have—because I felt we were the little red-headed stepchild.
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
Child—children, because we never had a place to meet. So we would go from this church to that church, to here, there and yonder, you know, and so she made that bequest. Well, unfortunately that was—she passed away, and that was kind of passed over by the City, buying the old [Geneva] Post Office building that’s on Geneva Drive to make a senior center. So I was just a little bit taken aback by that, because when I questioned her one time, I said, “Well, you know we do need someplace,” and she says, “Are you doubting my word? I told you we’d get an acre of property,” but that didn’t come to fruition evidently, because the—it’s an off-trade now for the post office, which, uh, her family sold to the city for $400,000. I was upset with that, because I’ve been here forever, I knew how—when it was built, and I just—I—I’m just, you know, I don’t understand this at all, but evidently the City and the powers that be in the historical society decided to make that happen.
Now, it hasn’t evolved to what it’s supposed to be, because I do believe they have now put the new downtown of Oviedo—south of Oviedo—on the forefront, which I personally have to agree to disagree with the [Oviedo City] Council and with the Mayor [of Oviedo][3] for doing that. Reason being: there was[sic] only two defined downtowns in Seminole County. One is Sanford. One was Oviedo. So I know the road is going to be cut through, but I thought maybe they would do what Sanford did and embellish what they had and work with that, rather than spend all this money with a new downtown that I, uh—I’m—I don’t understand. Let’s put it that way. I do not understand the logic behind this.
I do know that we put down waterlines in 1968. I do know the infrastructure of Oviedo, to me, is of the utmost importance, and I’m—I’m worried about things maybe I shouldn’t be, uh, but I worked for the city and I love this city with my whole heart. Always have, always will. These are two issues that I’m not comfortable with. I love the people, and when I was a customer service representative and Oviedo had this explosion of growth, I always told my cli—my people that came in and signed up for water, “I need you to do me one favor, and that is to blend in. Oviedo is a wonderful place, you don’t try to change Oviedo. Oviedo is fine,” and I tell them, “Don’t let the overalls fool you in Oviedo either.” That is a standing joke I’ve had forever, but again, all in all, big picture—as I try to look at in my whole life is the big picture—it’s a great place for families, it’s a great place for everybody. it was a great place and still is for me. I’ve al—I—I’m totally in love with Oviedo, and I want everybody to love it as I do and do what’s best for everything, but, mm [sighs] I guess when UCF came in…
Montgomery
Yeah.
Bryant
I was there. I was there. I lived south of Oviedo, and the Attamoochee[sp] site was the site they built the university on—had three buildings. It was—it was something to behold, and that was in 196—they didn’t build it in 1963, but they made it happen in 1963, the year I graduated. So I have a daughter that graduated from UCF [University of Central Florida], I have a son in-law that graduated from UCF, I have a daughter in-law that graduated from UCF.
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
And it goes on and on and on, and I am one happy girl, and the school has made me so proud, because you—I mean it was FTU—Florida Technical University,[4] and now, as it’s almost—I do believe the second—third—second most populated school in U—United States. So that’s something to be proud of—for them being, uh, right there by Oviedo. Oviedo is special, and hopefully and prayerfully, after my life is done it’ll continue to go on, and please remember always: blend into Oviedo. Don’t try to change it please.
Montgomery
Uh, what was your favorite part about growing up here in Oviedo? Did you have a favorite to go when you were in high school, or…
Bryant
Oh, we had a teen club.
[phone rings]
Bryant
We had a teen club in Oviedo. [inaudible]. Just…
[phone rings]
Bryant
Pick up the thing and turn it…
[phone rings]
Bryant
Just…
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
Just the…
[phone rings]
Bryant
There—there you go. Okay. Sor—sorry about that.
Montgomery
[laughs] Don’t worry about that [laughs].
Bryant
What was my favorite place in Oviedo?
[phone rings]
Montgomery
Mmhmm.
Bryant
Was the teen club we created out in Chuluota, and I, as a non-citizen, became president of that [inaudible] [laughs].
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
Of that teen club. We had dances on Saturday nights, and as far as—Oviedo had one thing that I can call to mind, at that time. You have to understand we were very small, and we had a swimming pool, and every Tuesday, we would go down on Magnolia Avenue in Oviedo, and Tuesday night, we would have a teen night there, and we would dance and swim and do whatever kids do. Yes, that was it, and, uh, they did, however, close that swimming pool down, so it’s not there anymore. I think it’s a tennis court now, and, uh, we had one grocery store, the Country Quick.
The one thing I would like for Oviedo to get again that I know us old people would probably need, because you guys are so techy with your Facebook and all…
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
And Miss Ingrid don’t do Facebook, because I’m from Germany, and I think to myself, My God, this is a double-edged sword. It’s too much information, and it can be used very badly. So the one thing that I would like to have Oviedo have again is a newspaper. Our newspapers are all gone, so it’s hard and difficult for the older people to find out what’s going on, just like last weekend, the Taste of Oviedo. I mean—it was well represented, however, not advertised in the paper. I get The Orlando Sentinel, but we get bits and pieces, but I love The Seminole Chronicle. That gave information that was pertinent to our area, what we had going on here, and I feel with 35,000-plus people, please, somebody do us another newspaper. Larry Neely had his newspaper back in the ‘60s, and it was called The Outlook,and then it became The Oviedo Voice, and I think The Oviedo Voice is—is in existence, but from what I understand, when taking to the Mayor, they’re all struggling right now, even The Orlando Sentinel. So—and I’ve read that forever, but that’s the one thing I would like them to have.
We’re getting the hospital, which is a good thing. I am so happy. I—I’ve prayed about that, and things are evolving, and maybe the new downtown is thought by somebody, you know, that might know better than I do, but I just thought that the old was quaint and was what Oviedo was. More so than the apartment buildings that I see going up. I question that. Why—and the Albertsons across the street—but I don’t want to complain. It will all work itself out, Hopefully—prayerfully.
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
So—but the museum—I still want a museum. I do, and maybe—hey, I got a Catholic church after 40 years of praying [laughs].
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
It might happen.
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
It just might happen. Maybe not in my lifetime, but other people’s. Are there any other question that you have?
Montgomery
Um, is there anything else that you miss about Oviedo from your youth?
Bryant
From my youth?
Montgomery
Yes, anything [inaudible]…
Bryant
Knowing everybody in town.
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
Knowing every car that went by my house, knowing that if my—if it rained outside and the laundry was on my clothesline, somebody’d come in and put it in my house. We didn’t have locked doors. We had so much going. everybody—it was just a different life that, right now, it—that’s passing, but the only thing I would get mad at back then—when somebody would take my laundry back in from outside because it rained—my neighbor mostly—is that she didn’t fold it [laughs]. That—yeah, I miss the—I miss the closeness of the people, you know, anymore. it’s—I still have lots of friends here, because I had a position in the City where people knew me, and so I—I—I treasure my customers.
I do, and I—if it—if I woulda worked longer—but I was getting con—conflicts with trying to this Catholic church—mixing church and state. That just didn’t go over so well. Especially, when I’d ask people when they came to Oviedo, I said “What church do you go to?” And say “Well, we go to Catholic church,” and I would tell them—I said, “Well, we don’t have one yet, but if you help me pray, we’re gonna get one soon,” and [laughs] I don’t think that’s something you should do. So I guess I’m not the politically correct person…
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
You want as a customer service person anymore, but these are things that, you know—yeah, but I love Oviedo. In spite of everything, I love Oviedo, and love my police chief[5] too, because he helped me catch a criminal that burglarized this house, and, uh, we caught her. I—like I said, I love Oviedo—period—and I want what’s best for Oviedo, and I want it to go on and on and on and be the success that it is, and who knows? Someday, it will be as big as Munich.
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
One million population, which will make me happy [laughs].
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
Maybe not anybody else, but me, ‘cause[?] I’ve always been a city girl.
Montgomery
So why did you choose to stay in Oviedo your whole life?
Bryant
Why did I choose?
Montgomery
Mmhmm.
Bryant
Why would I not?
Montgomery
[laughs].
Bryant
I go to Germany pretty much every year to see my relatives over there that I have, and—but Oviedo’s my home, and I have, eh—everything that I have built up is Oviedo. So, yeah, I’ve stayed.
Montgomery
Is there anything else you want to say or talk about before we end?
Bryant
I just keep my Oviedo as special as it—as it’s always been, and maybe, if there’s—if by some chance, we could get a museum [laughs] to where people in the future know that we were the celery capital of the world, and all the people, the backbone of the community that has already passed on, the people that I miss dearly, especially Clara Evans, uh—yeah, keep it going and—and build a museum, and life would be good.
Montgomery
All right, the—those were all the questions that I had for you. So…
Bryant
Thank you, dear. [inaudible].
Montgomery
Yeah, thank you so much.
Bryant
You’re welcome.
Montgomery
I really, really do appreciate you doing this. So thank you.
Bryant
I appreciate doing this with you and thank you for come—for coming again.
Tammaro
Okay. Today, it is March 19th, 2015. I am interviewing James [Marion] Jones as part of the UCF [University of Central Florida] Oviedo History Harvest, and we are recording this interview at the Oviedo Historical Society located at the Lawton House in Oviedo, Florida. So my first question is: what is your full name?
Jones
My full name is James Marion Jones. That’s Marion—M-A-R-I-O-N. I was born June the 19th, 1945.
Tammaro
Um, and when did your family come to Oviedo?
Jones
My—on my paternal side, my, uh, great-great grandfather was…
[cell phone rings]
Jones
Was Batts Nusum Mitchell. He was the first one to move here in about 1870. He was, uh, a dentist, and he also farmed in the area now known as Mitchell Hammock, and—off Mitchell Hammock Road, which that’s named for him. Uh, in fact, he’s buried out in the Drawdy[-Rouse] Cemetery. You know where that is? Rouse-Drawdy[sic] Cemetery on Rouse Road, by UCF.
Tammaro
Oh, yeah.
Jones
Uh huh, he’s buried out there. He was the first one of our family to move from[sic] Oviedo—to Oviedo from Georgia, uh, again around 1870.
Tammaro
Okay, um, did you—your maternal family—did they live here? Or is that…
Jones
Excuse me?
Tammaro
Different? Your maternal family?
Jones
Oh, my maternal family. My maternal family—my, um, mother’s—my, uh, mother’s family was from Macon, Georgia.
Tammaro
Oh, okay.
Jones
And as far as I know, back there, on their side, my great-great grandfather fought in the [American] Civil War. His name was C. A. Dewberry. Uh, he fought in A. P. Hill’s division of the Army of Northern Virginia, under—under [Robert E.] Lee. He was, uh, injured in the Battle of Vicksburg[1], was captured at [the Siege of] Petersburg,[2] held as a POW [prisoner of war] in Virginia until the end of the war, and, uh, the[?]—he lived until 1922—I believe that it was—then[?] died in Macon, Georgia, and then my—I don’t know how my mother and father met in Macon, but they did, married in Macon, and then he brought her back to Oviedo where the rest of my paternal side was—was living at the time, and, um, my, uh—again, it was my—I keep getting all the greats confused [laughs] —Great-great-great-grandfather was Batts Mitchell. He has a daughter…
[cell phone rings]
Jones
Named Emma Jean Mitchell, who married the first Jones, uh, and her name was, uh, Emma Jean Mitchell Jones. They’re buried right here in the Oviedo Cemetery
Tammaro
Oh.
Jones
And—and again, he practiced farming out in what’s now known as the Mitchell Hammock area, and he, uh, practiced dentistry too, and, uh, when he, uh—when he died, we gave his dental kit, which is a rather elaborate dental kit, to the University of Florida and the Florida State Museum
Tammaro
Oh, wow.
Jones
In Tallahassee. That’s a picture of his dental kit. They’re all pearl—pearl-handled, uh, instruments, uh, even still had some of the chemicals and that—that he—they used then in 1870s, including arsenic—believe it or not [laughs].
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
And stuff like—you can have that, if you’d like.
Tammaro
Oh, thank you.
Jones
And I still have the original picture of it too, if you ever wanted a better copy, but, um, uh, it—it—yeah, they moved here. He traced it—we traced it—we can trace his lineage—Mitchell’s—back to 18—to 1700s, and they moved here from Ireland and Scotland. Uh, in fact, I don’t know if you’d be interested in any of this or not. I just ran, uh, this, uh, thing. I didn’t do all this work. Somebody else did…
Tammaro
Mmhmm.
Jones
This work, but that was the, um—the lineage there.
Tammaro
Oh, wow.
Jones
Of, um, where we came from. I’m somewhere around generation six or seven, I believe. Uh, it goes back to—it goes back to the old country anyway, beginning like when the first Mitchells moved here from Ireland and Scotland. One of ‘em served in the [American] Revolutionary War, and then his son served in the War of 1812, and then we had some that fought in the, uh, Civil War, for the South[3] of course [laughs].
Tammaro
Right.
Jones
The— I [inaudible]—the War—War of Northern Aggression, it was known as in the South, you know?
Tammaro
Mmhmm.
Jones
[laughs].
Tammaro
Wow.
Jones
And, uh, just—just for you—your case, that’s the, uh, maternal side where I came from,
Tammaro
Mmhmm[?].
Jones
And, um, the first one of that, [inaudible] I can’t trace her back as far as the old country. I never had really tried though, but that’s where they came—they all came from Macon, and thank God they left Macon too. You ever been to Macon, Georgia?
Tammaro
I have not.
Jones
Oh, don’t ever go.
Tammaro
No?
Jones
It is hot, dirty, smelly—oh, it’s a terrible place [laughs]. Great place to be from [laughs].
Tammaro
Right.
Jones
But, um, anyway…
Tammaro
Okay[?], um, so, what did your parents do?
Jones
My, uh, oh, okay, uh, like I say, uh, Dr. Mitchell—he had a, um—his daughter Emma Jean married the first Jones. He had a general store in Oviedo. He—he would’ve been my great grandfather, and then my grandfather, uh, continued that on, and he had a general store. He also worked for the railroad, and he was postmaster of Oviedo for about 15 years, and then his son—my father—John Batts Jones, Jr., uh, was postmaster of Oviedo post office for 25 years until his death in [19]63.
Tammaro
Okay[?]. Um, uh, what would you say your father was like—like his personality?
Jones
Uh, he was very businesslike. Uh, they worked hard back then. Uh, I know that, back then—actually when he was a postmaster—back then, in those days, the post office was open six days a week, including Saturdays, and of course, they had to be there in advance to open up, they had to be there afterwards to shut down, so I’ll bet you he worked a 70-hour week, and my mother was a clerk at the post office as well, and, uh—so they worked long, hard hours. It was—it was—back then in those days, it was—it was a hard life. It was a lot—lot of hours of work. [Inaudible], you know, we don’t appreciate it, uh, now, I don’t think, uh, but they did. They worked very hard. He’s very businesslike, but, uh, they were good.
They had, uh, two children: my brother[4] and myself. Uh, both of us went to Oviedo High School. I think there were 12 in my brother’s graduating class of Oviedo High School in 1955. There were 30 in my graduating class in 1963, and there were half—there were about five of us, I think, that started in the first grade together and went all the way through—graduated together.
Tammaro
What did your brother do—go on to do?
Jones
My brother, uh—you see, the basketball picture up? He was a, uh, superstar in basketball. In fact, he set records at Oviedo High School that are[?]—still exist. He’s in the hall of fame up there, and he got a full basketball scholarship to the University of Florida, uh, and he played up there his freshman year. He was red-shirted his sophomore year, and then in the summer of his sophomore year, he was working for the Alachua County, just to make some spending money, and he—and, uh, he was, uh, working with the road department, and he was sawing a limb off a tree and he had a terrible accident, fell, and nearly died, and—and he—and he was left with a severe handicap after that, which he had to cope with for the rest of his life.
So that ended his—any potential sports career that he might have had, because he was—he was excellent in basketball particularly, but[?] he was also a good baseball player. Oviedo didn’t have football back then. We didn’t have enough people in the school to have a football team [laughs].
Tammaro
Oh.
Jones
Uh, oh, where was I? Then, of course, uh—then I grew up in his shadow. He was eight and half years older than me. I certainly grew up in his shadow. Oviedo was a little town back then, and everything circulated around the church and the school.
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
And, of course, everybody in town knew everybody, whether you went to the gas station to get gas for your car, or whether you went to the barbershop to get a haircut. It was really—you’ve seen the movie. Do you remember—you remember Mayberry R.F.D.—that TV series?
Tammaro
Oh, I don’t know.
Jones
Okay.
Tammaro
Sorry.
Jones
You’re too young. Okay, it was just a little one stoplight town, and I grew up in his shadow. “Are you going to be as good as your brother? You gonna be…” Well, Johnny was 6’3”, 185 pounds in high school. I was 5’8, 140 pounds [laughs]. There wasn’t any way I was going to be another Johnny Jones in sports, but he was my hero, nevertheless. I loved him to death, and—and, uh, we had a good, warm, uh, relationship growing up until he, uh—until his injury [inaudible] almost took his life.
Tammaro
Mmhmm[?].
Jones
Buddied around with him. You wouldn’t know we were eight years difference, ‘cause he always took me along with him everywhere—just about everywhere he went.
Tammaro
Um, okay, so did you have any favorite family stories that you wanted to tell?
Jones
Oh.
Tammaro
Or any traditions?
Jones
Gosh, well, our, uh—like I said, work was always a big part of, uh, my mother and dad’s life, and when it came to, uh, vacation time, we did one of two things: we either went to the mountains in North Carolina or we went to Daytona Beach and spent a week or two—or a week or two up in the mountains. That was—that was their life. That’s what they loved to do. They loved to go to the mountains and they loved to go to the beach. So we would do that. Of course, I was like an only child, uh, because my brother being so much older. So when we would go on these vacations, I was like an only child, by myself. Wasn’t anybody to play with, but I had to make up my own, uh, time. Uh, in the summer, uh—again, all the life in Oviedo, in that time, circulated around either the church or the school during the regular year. When I say “regular year,” I mean like the school year from September to June.
Tammaro
Mmhmm.
Jones
Uh, uh, and then in the summers, the only thing there was to do in the summers was to go to the Oviedo swimming pool. Are you familiar with the Oviedo swimming pool…
Tammaro
Yes.
Jones
Down in Sweetwater Park?
Tammaro
Yeah.
Jones
It was built on WPA.[5]
Tammaro
Oh, really?
Jones
Uh huh, uh, back in the ‘30s, and it really was a nice pool. It was one of the nicest pools in the area. In fact, people came from as far away as Titusville and others—and other cities to use the Oviedo pool, because it was—it was—it really was a nice pool, uh, for its time. Of course, they ended up closing it in, mm, late ‘60s, because there’s no way—it didn’t meet any mind of health standards. It didn’t have a filtration system. It didn’t have a chlorination system.
Tammaro
Wow [laughs].
Jone
What they would do is, every three or four days, they would empty all the water out of the pool and fill it up with fresh water.
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
So the day after they filled it up with fresh water, it was cold [laughs].
Tammaro
I bet.
Jones
And then, by the fourth day, it was really nice and warm [laughs], but, uh—so that was all there really was to do much in, uh—in Oviedo back in—in, uh, the summertime was the pool, and as it[?] got a little bit older, uh, there were some summer baseball leagues for, uh—for little kids. They called them Babe Ruth Leagues, Where you just, uh—just got together and played, uh, Sanford schools or Longwood or something, uh, and then like I say, during the school year, everything circulated around the church and the school. The “school” primarily meaning basketball games, and, uh, the baseball games, of course, were played, uh, during the day, and so that wasn’t as big a community event, because people were working. They didn’t have lights back then. Um, so, eh, the, uh, basketball games were the main thing—that and—and church. Um, Oviedo was quiet. It was, of course—I started—I was born, again, in 1945, right at the end of the war. It was a quiet little town, safe. Nobody locked anything. I don’t know that we even owned any keys to the house. Um, nobody ever stole anything, or anything like that.
One kind of funny story, along that line, my mother and my brother had been to church one Sunday night. They came home and she went in. I stayed home with my dad, and she woke my dad up, and she called him J. B. that was his nickname, J.B. “J.B., who’s asleep on the couch?” And he, uh—and—and, we had a couch, [inaudible] “Nobody. It’s just Jimmy and I here.” She says “Somebody’s asleep out there on the couch.” So I went out there and sure enough, some drunk had wondered in off the street, laid down on the couch, and gone to sleep [laughs]. So I guess they just woke him up and send him on his way. I would have been just a real little fella at this time, but I remember that was just hilarious, because nobody locked anything. I don’t know if we owned any keys to the house.
Tammaro
Oh.
Jones
[laughs] And everybody else was the same way too.
Tammaro
Oh, um, what church did your family go to?
Jones
The Oviedo Baptist Church.
Tammaro
[inaudible]?
Jones
Right across the street there. Uh huh, my—in fact, my, um—my great grandfather, J. M. Jones, was the clerk of the, uh, church for many years. I don’t know how many. Uh…
Tammaro
Okay, um, did you go on to go to college as well?
Jones
Yeah, I went—after I graduated from high school in ’63, they had a junior college in Orlando called Orlando Junior College at the time. It was a private junior college. I went there for one year, and then I transferred to the University of Florida in Gainesville. It was before UCF.
Tammaro
Yeah.
Jones
There were no other—yeah, all the other colleges in the area were a few private schools—private colleges, like Rollins [College], Stetson [College], Florida Southern [College]. So I went to Gainesville, and also I always wanted to go to Gainesville, because that’s where my brother Johnny went too.
Tammaro
Did you enjoy it?
Jones
Oh, yes. Best[?]—look—look back at it now, some of the best years of my life. Of course, like every other kid, at the time, you know, “We gotta hurry up and get outta here and get on with life and blah, blah, blah,” and when you get older, you look back and those are some good years, and—wish I took more time to smell the flowers [laughs].
Tammaro
Um, so I understand you went to Oviedo [School] when the plane crashed?
Jones
Uh huh. Sure, did, and, uh, I wrote up a little thing that I sent to— I don’t know if you got this or if I sent it to—Desta’s[6] her name?
Tammaro
Oh, yeah, I think she told me about it.
Jones
Uh, yeah, I’m, um, you know—do you where the old school was? You seen pictures of the old school up there?
Tammaro
Yeah, yeah.
Jones
It was a typical old two-story, brick schoolhouse.
Tammaro
Mmhmm.
Jones
And I happened to be on the first floor, on the west side, in my English class. The teacher was Jack Caliber[sp], and I was sitting there and staring out the window, as I often did [laughs] in school—class, and I saw, uh, these planes coming barely above treetop level. There were three of them at first. There were, uh, two what they call [North American A-5] Vigilantes. They were all photo reconnaissance planes out of NAS[7] Sanford at the time, and just as they came over treetop, they obviously realized that there was a school dead ahead, and a two-story school, and they were not going to clear it. The playground, which is right across the back of the property here, was full of elementary—the elementary kids were at recess, at that time. Uh, the—the high school kids, like myself—we were all in the big building. Anyway, as soon as they realized that the two Vigilantes just phew, peeled off like that, and that, uh, A3J [Vigilante]—the one you see the picture of there.
Tammaro
Mmhmm.
Jones
That—that’s not the plane. That is just, uh, one of the type planes.
Tammaro
Okay.
Jones
Uh, as soon as he saw it, he did—what you’re used to seeing planes horizontal. I mean, I served on an aircraft carrier in the Navy, and [laughs] so I’ve seen lots of planes, and you’re used to seeing them, but as soon as he saw the school, he did this, and went completely vertical, and it is still etched in my mind. You—you don’t see planes in that vertical position, and he did that, and then, shoo—bam, and he landed about, oh, probably no more than a couple hundred feet from the school property, but [inaudible] in the orange grove that was owned by the Ward family at the time, and of course, pandemonium was breaking out at the school, even though we—there weren’t many of us. There was only like—oh, like 300 of us in the whole school at the time. That’s grades one through 12, and, um, my business teacher, right across the hallway—Novella [Driggers] Aulin was her name. She said, “Jimmy, Jimmy, won’t you—I need you to go check on Burt [Ward] and Bill Ward. See if they’re okay,” because they—they were some friends of hers that had a mobile home right over there in that area. She said “Here, take my car.” She gave me the keys to her car. Now, I was a junior in high school [laughs]. They’d hang you for this kind of stuff today [laughs]. She handed me the keys to her car, an old Mercury. I remember I had a hell of a time driving it, ‘cause it had some kind of weird transmission.
So I go out there and I jump in, and I was the only one that left the school grounds, and I drove around to the site, and by the time I got over there, the Navy had already posted a sentry, but that—but there—I was from here to the door to the crash, but I think—there was nothing—it was nothing much left. When a plane crashes and burns, I mean, it just—it just burns up. There’s a big ball of, uh, fire from the, uh, jet fuel, but that just goes up—whish, and that’s it. The rest of it then is just smoldering, and I didn’t put this in the write-up, ‘cause it was kind of, um, gross, or macabre, but you get the bodies of the three dead were on top of the ground still strapped into their, uh, seats. Uh, so then I went back to the school and I told—told Novella that Burt and Bill’s house was okay. That is didn’t hit ‘em. Of course, one of the other teachers was mad as hell at me for leaving the school grounds [laughs], but that was okay. he couldn’t do anything, because the other teacher not only gave me permission, told me to go, gave me the keys to her car, and, um, I was—I was on the student council at the time, so, uh, a delegation of us went over to Sanford to the memorial service for the three that died, but they definitely—they gave their lives to avoid hitting that school. There’s no ifs, ands or buts about it, because they—they would have hit—there’s no doubt they would have hit it.
Tammaro
Alright, um, so, uh, you were in the Navy?
Jones
Yeah, I was—I was—like I say, I went over to Florida, and I graduated from Florida—the University of Florida—in ’67. This was right in the middle of the Vietnam War.
Tammaro
Ah.
Jones
And, uh, so I had to choose, uh, what I was going to do, so rather than being drafted and going into the Army, I, uh, signed up and I went to, uh, went to the Naval Officer Candidate School in New Port, Rhode Island, where I got commissioned as [inaudible] in 1967. Ending up staying and getting out in ’69, at the end of the war, and I stayed in the Navy Reserves[sic] for 20—a total of 25 years, and retired in 1991 as a captain.
[cell phone rings]
Jones
Yeah, I graduated—I retired in ’91. Um, when I got off active duty in 1969, I wanted to teach, so I went to work for Seminole County [Public] School system. I taught two years at—well, it was, at that time, South Seminole Junior High School. Then it became, the next year, South Seminole Middle School. Then I transferred to Oviedo Junior-Senior High School, where I taught for one year, then they moved the middle school to Jackson Heights [Middle School]. Uh, it had been a sixth grade center and they added the seventh grade out there. So I went out there, and I became the assistant principle at Jackson Heights, and I was there for 21 years, I believe, or—21 or 22 years at Jackson Heights, and then I transferred to Tuskawilla Middle School. I was their assistant principle for nine years, and then I transferred my last two or three years to Lawton Chiles Middle School, where I retired in—I think it was 2003.
Tammaro
What did you teach?
Jones
I taught math.
Tammaro
Oh.
Jones
Mmhmm.
Tammaro
Did you enjoy that[?]?
Jones
Oh, yeah. I’ve always been math—math buff. My, uh, high school math teacher’s probably shaking his head, but, uh—but I did. I would say one thing you might find that was interesting: I remember when I—when I was at, uh, Oviedo Elementary School, you know, the—the price of one of those half pints of milk were three cents, at that time [laughs].
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
I think a full lunch—and it was a full lunch back then—it wasn’t the kind of lunches they have now—like, it was 30 cents, but the milk was three cents. So it’s a different time, and, uh, so then after, uh—after I, uh, retired, then I—I, uh, always liked the, uh, east coast, and Oviedo was getting so big. This area was getting so big then that I decided to move over the Melbourne. That’s where I’ve been ever since.
Tammaro
Yeah. So how do you feel about all the changes in Oviedo?
Jones
Oh, I tell you. It’s, uh—it’s progress, I guess, but there’s sometimes [laughs] I wish they’d just put it back the way it was, but, you know, you can’t go back again. That’s just—it’s gonna get—it’s—in the next 20 years, it’s gonna be even bigger. No doubt about it. It’s—it’s—it is something. It’s something. I remember when I was in high school, where—where UCF is out there, that property was for sale, and it had a plywood si—signs up there with, uh, Carrigan and Boland Realty. All that property was for sale for 300 dollars an acre.
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
And the—and the sign stayed there ‘til it rotted down. That’s just how [laughs]—it wasn’t—you can imagine now what it’s worth [laughs].
Tammaro
Yeah.
Jones
[laughs].
Tammaro
That’s crazy. Did you hear they’re tear—they’re gonna make this road[8] bigger?
Jones
Yes, they did. I have, um—my cousin, um, Mary Jones, um, owns one of the buildings in the old…
Tammaro
Oh, really?
Jones
Down—Mary Jones Bird owns one of the buildings, and, uh, in fact, she was here visiting last week, and she told me she had just closed with the State of the Florida. Are they going to take this house down over here—you know, my old house?
Tammaro
Um, I don’t think so, I think it’s everything before the Baptist church. Like Townhouse [Restaurant]…
Jones
All that way?
Tammaro
Down that way.
Jones
Um…
TammaroYeah.
Jones
Uh huh, okay.
Tammaro
So I don’t think so.
Jones
I just wondered if they were going to take it down. I—I guess it’s open to some—some sort of office buildings…
Tammaro
Yeah.
Jones
Or something in there now. Many years ago, I was here for one of their[9] Great Day in the Countries, and I, uh, just went over there and walked through, just kind of looked around for old time’s sake, because as a little kid, I remember I thought it was huge, and then I went in and looked and I said, Man, this is little.
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
[laughs] But, uh, okay. I was wondering about that.
Tammaro
Yeah, I think that staying. Um, okay, so do you have any interests or hobbies?
Jones
Yeah, boating, sailing…
Tammaro
Boating?
Jones
Fishing, outdoor activities like that.
Tammaro
Okay.
Jones
I, uh, right now, in my retired years, I spend three—three months a year, I spend over in the Bahamas, and then we come back during the—when hurricane season starts, we start getting ready to go back the next year, and we have a lot of family that comes over with us every year, ‘cause they all love it, and stay with us for a week or two, and friends, so that’s what—that’s what I’m—that’s what my life’s doing right now.
Tammaro
Do you have family that’s still here in Oviedo?
Jones
Yes, uh, my daughter Dawn [Raquel Jones] Jensen is very active in the [Oviedo] Historical Society.
Tammaro
Oh, okay.
Jones
You know her?
Tammaro
Yes, I think I met her.
Jones
Yeah, that’s my daughter. Uh, my, um—my other daughter, Kathy [Jones], lives in Miami Beach. I have a daughter, Pam [Jones], that lives over in, uh, East Orlando, and then just two years ago, I—we lost a son, uh, uh, Jimmy. I[?]—he passed away and, uh, lost him, and that’s—that’s the family, and my cousin, Mary—she, uh—she was down—she lives in Asheville, North Carolina now. She was a longtime Oviedo resident too, but I guess that Dawn actually is really the only one who’s still living in the Oviedo area—in Oviedo, as per se.
Tammaro
Right. Alrighty, um, so were you remarried—your wife?
Jones
Yeah, uh, I got married, um, out of, uh, college. Had the two children, Pam and Jimmy, and then that marriage didn’t survive. Remarried in 1995, uh, a girl from Goldenrod. We had two children Dawn and Kathy, and that’s it.
Tammaro
Oh, okay. Um, so is there anything that you want to tell me that I haven’t asked you about?
Jones
Oh, gosh, I’m trying to think…
Tammaro
[laughs].
Jones
Oh, hi. I’m Jim.
Tammaro
[laughs].
Horner
Desta [Horner].
Jones
Oh, you’re Desta. Okay, great. Yeah, uh, we’ve been having a very interesting conversation. I [inaudible]. Let me look here real quick. Dawn, uh, sent me some things, said you might want to mention this, that, or the other. Let me see what it was that, uh, she said to talk about. Uh, uh, um, uh, well, we had, uh—the Oviedo School was really great. We had some really wonderful teachers…
Unidentified
Yeah.
Jones
There, and I really do credit the success that I have had in life with the great teachers that, uh—that we had. I know Mrs. Palmer—Betty Palmer Sprat. She’s a member of your historical society. She was my science teacher in high school—wonderful lady, uh, and there were several others like her that, uh, didn’t take any gruff from us, and believe me, we were capable of hand—handing it out [laughs], but they were always a step ahead of us [laughs].
[1] Commonly known as the Siege of Vicksburg.
[2] Officially known as the Richmond–Petersburg Campaign.
[3] Confederate States of America (CSA), commonly known as the Confederacy.
[4] John “Johnny” Jones.
[5] Originally called the Works Progress Administration and renamed the Work Projects Administration.
[6] Desta Horner, the President of the Oviedo Historical Society.
[7] Naval Air Station.
[8] Broadway Street.
[9] Oviedo Woman’s Club (OWC).
Schneider
Alright, so we’re here with, um, Ms. Nadine [Davis] Aulin, conducting an oral history interview. Um, the interview is conducted by myself, Sarah Schneider, at the Alafaya [Library] Branch of the Orange County Library System, um, in Orlando, Florida. It’s Friday, March 13th, twe—2015, and, um, the interview will cover topics about Oviedo’s history and the Aulin family’s history, and, um, this is being done for the UCF [University of Central Florida] Public History introduction class, um, for their project on Oviedo’s history. So welcome. Thank you for talking with us today.
Aulin
Well, I’m glad to be here.
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs].
Schneider
Um, and so could you start off just introducing yourself, um, to the camera. So tell yourself a little—tell us a little bit about yourself, um, where you grew up, and how long you’ve been in Oviedo.
Aulin
Okay, I, um, was born and raised in Orlando. Um, remember Orlando from when it was, uh, 75,000 until now. uh, I married my husband[1] in 1965, and prior to that, I had been to Oviedo many times. my grandparents lived in Chuluota, uh, but I wasn’t, you know, didn’t really know people from Oviedo, but, uh, my husband, uh, went to Vietnam in 1965 through ’66, and during that time, uh, I lived with his aunt, who was, uh, Nettie [Dorcas] Jacobs Aulin. She was married to, uh, Theodore Aulin, who everybody called “The Judge,”, because he was Justice of the Peace.
Schneider
Ah.
Aulin
And, uh, in addition to that, my mother-in-law,[2] at that time, was living and she lived in Oviedo, and we had a close relationship.
Schneider
Uh huh, great, um, and so what was life like in or—in Oviedo when you moved here—in the area?
Aulin
Well, it was sorta cool. Um, the big events happened through the [First] Methodist Church [of Oviedo] or the [First] Baptist Church [of Oviedo]. uh, anything that was going on it was either through that or the—or the [Seminole County Public] Schools. Um, people—it was a big deal to go into Orlando out to eat. You know, you didn’t just do that willy-nilly. You, eh—it was an occasion.
Um, what I loved about that time is, uh, Oviedo had one police officer, and that was, um, George Kelsey, and his family had been here I think as long as the Aulins, uh, and he, uh, took care of the town. He, uh, would sleep, I think, in the early morning and then be around 18 hours a day doing his job, and he did it well. I don’t think we had too much crime. Uh, one of the things is, uh—Aunt Nettie—when I was living with her, we had an armadillo that bothered us, and she called Mr. Kelly[sic]—Mr. Kelsey to, uh, come get rid of that armadillo, and he says, “Well, Aunt Nettie, I’ll—I’ll be there as soon as I can. I just got in bed,” and she said, “Well, he’s out in our yard now, you need to come by now.” [laughs].
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
So he did. He came, and, uh, he says, “Okay. Well, I’m here. Where’s the armadillo?” And we—of course, the armadillo was gone by the time he got there, and she says, “Well, just hang around. you can shoot it,” and he says, “I don’t think I’m gonna be shooting armadillos, Aunt Nettie,” and—because, you know, everybody called everybody “Aunt” or “Ms.” or—you know, it wasn’t just first names, and she was, uh—one of his best friend’s son, er—her son was one of his best friends, and so, of course, he wanted to accommodate her, but he didn’t [laughs]—he wanted to be shooting armadillos in Downtown Oviedo. We lived right across from the Baptist church.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
So that wouldn’t have gone over very well, but that’s just sorta how Oviedo was back in those days—is that everybody knew everybody, and, uh, like the mayor of the time was, uh—oh, gosh, what was his name?[3] He was so nice. Um, it’ll come to me, but anyway, he used to go to the post office every morning and bring me my mail. You know, you’re not supposed to let somebody have somebody else’s mail, but he would bring me my mail, because my husband, being in Vietnam, he would write to me every day, and so this mayor would, uh—gosh, why can’t I think of his name? Um, he would bring me my mail, and, uh, it was just sorta, you know—sorta like, uh, small town, uh, neighborly kinda things that went on, back in those days.
Schneider
Great, great, and did you mention, um—what year did you come to Oviedo?
Aulin
I was, uh…
Schneider
I’m not…
Aulin
We got married in ‘65, and he soon left to go to Vietnam right after that. So, yeah, ’65.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And I was working at the Townhouse Restaurant, and it was like a year old
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
When I started to work there.
Schneider
Wow, uh, huh.
Aulin
And so it’s been an institution…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
For many years now.
Schneider
Yeah, Um, and what kinds of people—what kinds of jobs did people have in town around that time?
Aulin
Well, most everybody worked at either the packin’ house or in the groves, and you know, of course, there was the insurance companies, and there was real estate, uh, people back, at that time. Oviedo was beginning to build up, because the [Florida Technological] University[4] was in the works…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
And people were moving out this way and buying houses, and, um—but farming and, um, the citrus was[sic] the main jobs, uh, I think, uh, at the time. At some point in time, I went to work for Citizens Bank [of Oviedo],[5] and at that time, it was like the, uh, only—the—the next largest business that wasn’t, uh, uh, the packin’ house…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
You know, and, uh, I think it was the only building, at that time, that had an elevator, and it may still be.
Schneider
Huh.
Aulin
I don’t know. I can’t—I don’t know if there’s any buildings in the actual town that has an elevator, besides that. Maybe they do. I don’t know, but that was sort of a big deal that they had an elevator...
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
To [inaudible], uh, but yeah. There was one—I—I I’m trying to think if there was any other major jobs. Uh, there was your, uh—you know, you had school teachers and that kind of thing, but mostly it was farming.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Something to do with farming.
Schneider
Uh huh, and you mentioned people going to Orlando. that was a special treat. What other kinds of things did people do for fun in town?
Aulin
Oh, back then they, uh—ball games. They were really into, um, the different ball games, so like baseball, football. The Oviedo, um—had just—the [Oviedo] High School had just started over, at, uh, Career Field, and, uh, they had their first football game—a team for the school’s in 1964—maybe ‘63—but it was a very good team. By 1965, they had, uh, uh—were winning a lot of games, and people really supported them, and, eh, little league and—and all that. people were really into that. I remember [laughs] when we came home from, uh, our honeymoon, the—after we took our luggage to his mother’s house—we went to, uh, a baseball game.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
You know, who does that?
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] But, eh, you know, it was the community thing, I think, uh, maybe because the community was so small, but people were active. If, um, you—even if you didn’t have children playin’ ball, you still wanted to go to support them and be there, and, uh, it was just, like I said, small town U.S.A.
Schneider
Uh huh, great. Um, and so what is Oviedo-life like today? What…
Aulin
Well [laughs]...
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
I—I think that, um—I, uh, think that it’s still very neighborly, but more secular. Uh…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
I think there’s, uh—you know, people who live out on this side of town sort of do their kind of thing with their kids and their schools, and on the other side of town, the same thing, you know? I think that, uh, it—I—I think Oviedo still sort of has a reputation of being friendly and has that small town atmosphere kind of thing. Um, I don’t know if you’ve looked on the website. There’s an Oviedo community web—website, and people…
Schneider
Oh, okay.
Aulin
Go in with their gripes and—or their happy things, or…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
You know, whatever. So it’s still, uh—technology’s sorta caught up with us, and...
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
But I don’t think in a negative way. I think that’s sort of a good thing.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
So…
Schneider
Great, um, and has—is there anything else that has changed in Oviedo since you’ve lived here that you—that you’ve noticed?
Aulin
Oh, I’m sure they’re lots of changes that I, you know—of course, they’re building new buildings and tearing down old buildings. Um, citrus has not gained or even [inaudible].
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] and citrus is leaving us, and so is, uh, when—when we were first—when I first came here to Oviedo, um, out in Black Hammock, there was celery growing and cabbage and onions, and there was always something growing out there, and Now, there’s really nothing. There’s palm trees, but with the building industry not being too hot, they’re just growing and growing. They’re not being sold, uh, and I don’t even see much sod being sold. Um, uh, we, uh—all that has changed. It’s just not agriculture any more, and, uh, you know, then, uh, it’s modern times. I think people are, um, you know, since we’ve started here, there’s been integration, and so, that’s a big difference in Oviedo. um, people working together of different races and things like that, and I think it’s going pretty well.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
Um, so…
Schneider
Okay, great. Um, so do you have any other stories—memorable stories about your time living in Oviedo, um, while you’ve been living there?
Aulin
Well [laughs]…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
There’s been like the—I think it was, uh, one of the packing houses out on, uh, [Florida State Road] 46 caught on fire. This was in the early maybe 70s—maybe late 60s…
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
And, uh, that was a huge deal. I mean, everybody, uh, was going out to see that fire….
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Uh, but, uh—and of course, there’s been, u, funny things that’s happened, and I—right now, I can’t think of any[laughs], but, uh—you know, personal things—but, uh, eh, Just the change and the times, and the university, like I said, started it all. Uh, people started moving out here and then, because there was now new bedroom communities. Uh, then other businesses, that catered to that, have moved out here. I mean, we’ve got so many food, you know, restaurants and places to get food, and, uh, we don’t—and, you know, we’ve got a [Oviedo] Mall. Who would’ve ever though Oviedo would have a mall, and all these different places? Uh, It’s, uh, a very—like if—if you think back—1965 and today—it’s like two different worlds…
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
Until you get down to the nitty gritty of it and start talking to people that actually live here. They still—still, I think, sorta have the same mindset.
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
Maybe I’m wrong, but that’s what I think.
Schneider
Huh. Um, alright. So what family stories have you heard, uh, about Oviedo’s early history? So before you lived here.
Aulin
Well, my, um, mother-in-law, who I, uh, learned so much from, she, uh, came here when she was I think 17—maybe 18 years old—from Lake Monroe, Florida, which is right outside of, uh, Sanford. Uh, she came out here because there was a lady that was running the hotel in Oviedo, that was right where the main red light is, um, in Oviedo. It was sort of east, uh, or south of that, and, uh, since then, of course, it’s burned down, and—but, uh, she came out to actually take care of the lady’s children while the lady ran the hotel. The [?] t turned into—she became like the telephone operator there, and, uh, I think she is noted as the first telephone operator in, uh, Oviedo, because, you know, that was a big deal back then too, and she, uh—that’s where she met her husband.[6] Uh, he worked across the way at the packing house with his, you know—his—the people who owned the packing house were relatives of his. Not that—I—I don’t think it was nepotism that he had a job there. It’s just there were not many other places to work, but, um, she met him there, and she learned how to pack fruit just by sittin’ around. I guess that was their courting days, you know?
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
“Here, let me show you how [laughs] to pack fruit.”
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
But, uh—and she used to tell me, um, or she told me once that, uh, she—when they courted, uh, her husband’s, uh, cousin, would loan him his car, and it was a roadster, and I never quite got the concept of what a roadster is, but I do know that, uh, one of the cars that they rode around in had the rumble seat in the back
Schneider
Ah.
Aulin
And when they would double date, she and her husband always had to be in the rumble seat, but when it was just the two of them, they would—a big date would be him taking her to Lake Monroe to visit her parents [laughs].
Schneider
[laughs] Oh.
Aulin
So—but anyway, they, uh—they—she used to tell me stories about how they dressed, and, you know, her husband, um, was sort of dashing. I think he wore this straw, Panama hat or somethin’, and, uh, she was a great seamstress, so she made all her clothes, and she was seamstress for Oviedo. She, uh, made so many wedding dresses for people, and, uh, I think she sewed for about—oh, gosh. I want to say about 40 years…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
And she was really great. Uh, she would make you clothes that—as a matter of fact, there was one person in Oviedo that used to take her to, uh, Winter Park, and they would sketch out the dresses in the windows…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
And then she would come back and make them for this person, and, you know, for hardly any money at all, and in Winter Park, it would cost like, 20 times whatever she charged…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Because they were very nice dresses, but, uh—and she did that up until she was in her ‘60s.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, uh, everybody loved to have her make them a dress, and she always was—loved to do it, because it was like her calling. It was her art. It was her thing, and, uh, she really enjoyed that very, very much, and, uh, of course, it was the different people that would come there. She had these, um—what do they call them? Dress models?
Schneider
Uh…
Aulin
Uh, and she had one that was—one lady that was sort of heavy, and that’s what she called it—by this lady’s name, and, um, I’m not saying their names, ‘cause their families all—still are here.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And then there’s another one that the lady was quite tall, and she called it that, and then finally she got this little short, fat, one and she called it Nadine [laughs].
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
And she used to make me my clothes, even when we were stationed in Germany or wherever. She’d send me, uh, my clothes, and they would be perfect every time. So, um, she was very, very talented at that, and I, uh, think that, uh—like I said, I think that it was her art, and she enjoyed doing it, and I think a lot of people, uh, of that era enjoyed working. I don’t think you see that so much anymore.
Schneider
Yeah.
Aulin
And I think people, uh, of my father’s age and, uh, Andy’s parents, they just sorta took their job very, very seriously, and it was their thing. It was, you know—they had pride in what they were doing. It wasn’t just—and of course, they had to earn money, and they didn’t earn that much for whatever they were doing, but still it was their—their art. It was their art.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
So there’s, um—some of the funny stories would be, uh, Andy’s uncle, eh, Theodore, who they all called Fifi, um, he didn’t [laughs] believe in change. So like, if they put in a traffic light or a stop sign where they never had had one before, he never paid—after he got old, he never paid any attention for—to it.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
And, uh, he was just—and George, the policeman, would just say, “Well, that’s Uncle Fifi. We just have to watch out for him.” [laughs].
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
And there was other people like that. there were what you call “characters” around the town, and—and that’s what people did—is they just sorta said, uh, “Well, that’s who they are,” and, you know, you just have to watch out for them, and I think that’s where the lovely—lovely thing about Oviedo and small towns everywhere, I’m sure.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And so, uh, don’t know what else…
Schneider
Yeah, that’s great, um, and you mentioned the—being a telephone or switchboard operator. Um, so what were the name—what was her name? [inaudible]…
Aulin
Her name was Alice.
Schneider
Alice?
Aulin
Mary Alice Aulin.
Schneider
Okay.
Aulin
Um, yeah. Uh, she did that, and, uh, as a matter of fact, when they did the centennial here, I, uh—they recognized her for that, and, um, it was very nice, um, and that was a nice thing too. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you got information about that, but that centennial thing was really a nice thing that Oviedo did. Uh, brought everybody together, and then people that were new got to know more about what was going on. uh…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
There was, like, memorial celery vase.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Have you heard that or seen that? Uh…
Schneider
I haven’t seen it. no.
Aulin
Well, uh, most of us have one that were around at that time, uh…
Schneider
Huh.
Aulin
And that’s when, um, Mr. Neely’s book[7] came out.
Schneider
Oh, okay.
Aulin
Uh, or Miss [Donna] Neely’s. I guess it was Ms. Neely’s. Uh, Dr., uh—what was his name?[8] Doesn’t matter.
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
That’s okay. Uh, [inaudible] another one of those things that will come to you, but, um, that all sorta gelled at the same time for the centennial, and It was a big celebration, and, um, it was very, very, very nice.
Schneider
Mmhmm, nice. Yeah, um, and have you heard any family stories about Andrew Aulin?
Aulin
Oh, yes, he…
Schneider
That you’d like to share.
Aulin
Was, uh—now, the first Andrew Aulin? You know, there’s…
Schneider
Yeah.
Aulin
The first Andrew Aulin, and then there was my husband’s father, Andrew Aulin, and my husband, Andrew Aulin, and none of them have middle names, and, uh, [laughs]…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
So it’s just…
Schneider
Confusing.
Aulin
Uh, but anyway, the first one, uh—it’s was my understanding that he traveled a lot before he settled down and came to Florida, but, um, one of the places that he traveled to or was in was, um, Oviedo, Spain. There was a big University [of Oviedo] there, and evidently, he was a scholar, and he had gone to, uh, [Uppsala] University in Uppsala, Sweden. he was Swedish, and, um—so when he came to Oviedo and they decided they were gonna make a town, and as a postmaster, they had him choose the name, he chose Oviedo, because this area reminded him of that town—city—I guess it was—and, uh—so therefore, he named it Oviedo, because—and—and also it had the Spanish name and Florida has a Spanish name—is a Spanish name. So he all thought it all sorta fit.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
And, um, it’s also my understanding—and this is sorta—I’ve heard people sorta joke about it—that he really cared more about reading and his books and doing scholarly things that, uh, he didn’t really care much about his business. He—he had a business, and I heard someone say—I think it was Mr. W. A. Ward’s father, uh, Bill Ward—said, um, that he would like—and maybe it wasn’t Mr. Ward—but anyway it doesn’t matter—it was somebody from that era—said that, uh, you would go into the mercantile store and say, you know, you wanted—I don’t know, um—seven yards of material or whatever, and he’d say, “Well, it’s back over that way,” and he’d go right back to his book [laughs].
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
And, uh—so whether people paid him or not he wasn’t real [laughs]…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
But I’m sure they all did pay, because it was a different era, again, at that time, but, uh, they said that they[?]—they would often see him sittin’ outside his—his store—just sittin’ there reading a book…
Schneider
Huh.
Aulin
And, uh, he—it’s also my understanding that he, uh, taught, was one of the first like little school situations here. Not that it was really a school. I don’t know about that. I just know that he taught people whatever he taught them, I don’t know if it was Greek or, uh, some, uh—something more than just grade school kind of things. I’m not sure about that. I just know that, uh—that was, uh,—has been told to me several times—was that he, um—and it may be even—there’s a letter written by, uh, Steen Nelson, uh, who…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Nelson and Company.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, uh, in that letter, there’s a descript—description of, uh, Andrew Aulin, and, uh, I think in there, he mentions him being a scholar, and, um, his store, and naming the town, and—and those kind of things, and I have—I just thought of it. I think I have a copy of that letter that I’ll try to provide for you, if I can find it. Uh…
Schneider
Yeah, that’d be great.
Aulin
Uh, then there’s[sic] other people in town that have a copy of it too, so I’m sure that we can locate it, and that’s sorta interesting too. I don’t know much about Steen Nelson, other than Nelson and Company was originally his business.
Schneider
Okay.
Aulin
And, uh, I don’t know if he became a partner with Mr. [Benjamin Franklin] Wheeler[, Sr.], or if the Wheelers just bought it out, or what.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
I don’t know that, but, uh, yeah. that’s, uh, how it all started with him.
Schneider
Uh huh, and do, you know, anything about, um, Andrew Aulin’s role as sort of an entrepreneur or stockholder—I think was the word. That I think he was involved in some entrepreneurial ventures with those people. I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about that.
Aulin
Uh, he probably was…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
I mean, because he was very much involved in the very beginning of Oviedo, and if you look at the land, uh, plats from that time, his name’s everywhere.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
So I, um—that part though I don’t really know, but I…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Do know that once upon a time, he owned a lot of land in Oviedo, and then I think, by the time he passed, there—he had sold it or, uh—I know that my mother-in-law used to talk about, uh, there were boom times and not-boom times, and, uh, in the boom times, everybody had money and had high hopes, and then it would all crash, and—but that’s all throughout history. You know, they…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
That—early 1900s, and on, and in 1929, and then on and on, and so…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
People would have stuff and then they’d have nothing.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
And—but, fortunately, back in those times, if you were a farmer, you could always grow your crop, but—as long as you didn’t have a dust bowl, like they did out West, and that kind of thing, but—yeah.
Schneider
Okay, um, and have you heard about anything in terms of Andrew Aulin, uh, growing citrus? Have you heard any…
Aulin
Yes.
Schneider
Stuff about that? Uh huh.
Aulin
He did. He grew, um,—he had orange groves, um, and I—he had, uh, different properties around. I know that on the, uh, south side of town, uh, he had properties, and then down—what we now call Downtown Oviedo, uh—I think he had properties down there that he grew not oranges on. I think it was, um, other kinds of crops. Uh, I’m thinking strawberries and celery. I don’t think celery was the big thing particularly, at that time. I think celery came along a little later, but, uh, yeah, uh, he did, and I—I that part—I’m sorry to tell ya—I haven’t ever delved into it, but I have always liked to hear the character stories, ya know?
Schneider
Uh huh [laughs].
Aulin
[laughs].
Schneider
Yeah, um, and have you heard anything about him as a postmaster, beyond what you were saying? Have you heard any stories about that, or…
Aulin
Nothing other than him naming the town.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, uh, I don’t know how it came about that he was the first postmaster. Uh, I do know that, uh, prior to that, everybody got their mail from, um, White’s Wharf, but, uh, then I guess they decided they needed a post office in Oviedo.
Schneider
Uh huh, great, and, uh, you mentioned earlier, uh, the Swedish background of the family. Um, do you know anything more about that?
Aulin
Uh, no, other than they’re from a place, um—it’s a big— it’s a big town in, uh, Ov—I mean Spain, uh—Sweden. Um, it’s right on the—the ocean. I, uh, don’t[?]—I have all this stuff at my house, because, um, I have sort of like a history, but I can’t think of it now. Uh, it’s called “getting old.”
Schneider
Did you say before Uppsala? [inaudible]…
Aulin
Well, Uppsala was where he went to university.
Schneider
Oh, okay. That was the university. [inaudible]…
Aulin
Yes, he went to school there, and, um, I can’t think of the name of the town where he was born, but that’s as far back as, uh, we’ve been able to go in his genealogy is to that town. Um, it starts with an M. I can’t think of it, but anyway, uh, he—I think it was a relatively young age when he left Sweden. I mean, um, not as a child, but [inaudible] probably in his early, early 20s, and then he traveled, and I think he even lived for a time in, uh, Ohio, and then, um—but it wasn’t until he came to Oviedo that he met his wife,[9] who was a Lawton, and, uh, her, uh, family was one of the main fam—founding families of, uh, Oviedo.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
Uh, the Lawtons, uh, and Wheelers, and, uh, Aulins—they were sorta—and they sorta—and the Lees—the Lees also is another…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
Name. Speaking of Lee, my mother-in-law, when she was a child, went with, uh, her uncle and her father on a, uh, river trip to Rockledge to get some—her uncle was the grocer. So they went on a skiff. She’s always called it that. I don’t know a skiff—from Lake Monroe to, uh, Rockledge, er, you know, by the coast, and, uh, I didn’t even know that the waterway would—would go that far, uh, on the St. Johns [River], but, um, back then, it did for sure, and she talked about how they camped on the way, and—but another person in their party was a gentleman named Thee Lee. I’m thinking his name was Theodore Lee. Uh, uh, I don’t know, but anyway, uh, we called him Thee Lee, and, um, he was a young man and he was—I guess knew her father or the uncle or somethin’. Anyway, he went on this trip with them and he would kill duck or whatever for their supper, and then she would always laugh and she says, “And then, 10 years or so later, I met him, because I was gonna marry his cousin.” So he was…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Andrew’s cousin.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, um—so I—I just thought that was so neat. She was just she had to be under 11 years old, because her father, uh, got killed on the railroad when she was, uh, 11. So she had to be pretty little kid when she went on that trip, but she remembered so much about them killing the geese and roasting them on the fire at night.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And isn’t that an adventure for an 11-year-old? I mean golly.
Schneider
Yeah, wow.
Aulin
Uh, sounds so cool [laughs].
Schneider
Uh huh, awesome. Yeah, and what else have you heard about the Lawtons, and, uh, Lona Lawton, and everybody?
Aulin
Well, um, I just know that, uh, there was a Mr. Lawton, uh, here in Oviedo that, uh, when he—he found out that I was married to—and I worked in a bank—when he found out that I, uh, was married to an Aulin, uh, his wife would send me cookies every once in a while.
Schneider
Aw.
Aulin
And also Andy’s cousin’s wife lived there, uh—worked there, and so they were all—they were very kind to us, uh, just because of the relationship, I guess, and, um, I just thought that that was so cool that he would, uh—that she would do that, and now, I can’t remember which Lawton they were, because, uh, at that time, there was[sic] several older Lawtons living in Oviedo.
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
And, uh—but that was so cool that he—that she would send us those cookies just because we were [laughs]…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
Aulins. It was just this family ties, I guess, but, um, the—I’m trying to think of some of the—there was, um, a lot of Lawtons. Uh, I think there was like—it was of two different mothers, but there was like a bunch of ‘em. I—I’m wantin’ to say eight, or maybe even more than eight…
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
Children, and, um, so they, um, settled here in Oviedo, and then, uh, I’ve since learned that there’s some Lawtons of that same group that live up in, uh, Northwest Florida.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
And, uh, I’ve been in contact with their, um, great-grandchildren, um, but, uh, they—they were big farmers, and, um—then also, I think they, uh, were teachers, and, uh, I know that, um, another one of my husband’s aunts was a teacher, and she, uh, married a gentleman and they lived out—and went out to live out in Texas, and that’s where the original Andrew Aulin died. He was in Texas. that’s where he’s buried—is in Texas, because he was living out there with his daughter, and, um—but yeah, they—I think they sort of have a—a legacy of teaching and farming.
Schneider
Mmhmm, yeah. Um, have you heard anything about, uh, Lona Lawton as—and her role as a switchboard operator after the [World] War [I]?
Aulin
Lona Lawton?
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
Or Alice Aulin?
Schneider
Um, I believe it was Lona Lawton that they mentioned in the book.
Aulin
Nah, I…
Schneider
Maybe.
Aulin
What war?
Schneider
Um, I said after World War—World War I?
Aulin
Uh, that would have had to have been Andy’s mother,
Schneider
Oh, okay.
Aulin
Alice.
Schneider
Okay.
Aulin
Mary Alice Aulin.
Schneider
[inaudible].
Aulin
Because Lona Lawton…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Was, um, Andrew’s mother.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And she died before, um, Andy’s mother met him.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
So I—she met him, um, around 1920.
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
Something like that.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Um, maybe twe—even ’22—something like that, ‘cause she was, uh—well, she was born in 1904, and, um, so she was only like 18 in ’22, so yeah.
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
So Lona had—had died…
Schneider
Ah.
Aulin
Before then.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Uh, and she, uh—I think way before then. I think in the early 1900s.[10] Uh, Andy’s father was the youngest child, and he was born in like 18-something.
Schneider
Oh, okay.
Aulin
Like, uh, 1893, I’m thinking—somewhere in that area.
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
So, yeah, she had been dead a long time.
Schneider
Hm, mmhmm.
Aulin
Um, so it wasn’t her. It was Andy’s mother, and I don’t remember, um, I mean it was after World War I that she, uh, did that because, uh, she was like 18 when she started.
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
And then, at one point, uh, she got married and—but then, at a later time, they came and put the switchboard in her house.
Schneider
Ah.
Aulin
They lived on Graham [Avenue].
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
And then she ran it from there, and then, um, another time, when she lived on Myrtle Street, they’ve[sic] moved it there, and she—but she had the—it, like, blew up in her ear, or…
Schneider
Uh huh [laughs].
Aulin
I don’t know what you’d call it. Uh, it had a short somehow and it made her, uh, almost deaf in one ear from doing that, and that was—I think that was like in the ‘30s…
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
When that happened.
Schneider
And have you heard anything about Andrew Aulin’s experience in World War I, uh, so [inaudible].
Aulin
Yes, I know that he was, um, uh—now, this is Andrew Aulin, Jr.
Schneider
Oh, okay, sorry.
Aulin
Uh, Andy’s father—my husband’s father.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
He was, uh, in, um, France during World War I, and he was, um, gassed. He got injured, uh, or, you know, not wounded, but, uh, harmed or disabled, uh, somewhat, by having, uh, gas, because, you know, that was the war when they did the—did that. he was in the trenches, and one of the funny or odd things, I think, is, um, they don’t eat—eat potatoes very much in the Aulin family, uh, or that part of the Aulin family, because all he got to eat when he was, uh, overseas was potatoes, and he said he hoped he never saw another potato, so…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] Andy’s mother cooked rice every day, and, uh, when I got married, I cooked rice every day for many, many years, and then I finally taught my husband that, you know, life will go on without rice, so [laughs]
Schneider
[laughs] [inaudible].
Aulin
But, uh, rice was the big thing. They ate rice instead of potatoes, and another thing, because of his, uh, eating habits, or lack of, when he was over there, uh, he wouldn’t eat gravy that was white—you know, made with milk.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Because that was just—that’s all they got over there—was white gravy. Er, he thought it had no taste. So Mrs. Aulin—even if the gravy didn’t come out dark enough, she would put like instant coffee in it or somethin’ to make it dark.
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] And that’s a good trick.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
It makes it taste better, if you just put a li’l coffee in it.
Schneider
Huh [laughs].
Aulin
That’s one of the tricks I’ve learned from her, uh, but yeah. I don’t know of any, uh—I just know that he went over there, uh, and got more or less wounded, and, uh, that whole family, I think, is, uh, been in World War—his—my husband’s oldest—older brother[11] was in World War II and in the Korean War. My husband was in, uh, [the] Vietnam [War], and, um, so they’ve all, you know, served their country.
Schneider
[inaudible].
Aulin
And I, uh, think that’s sorta something that most of the people in Oviedo did. I mean, there was a lot of people in Oviedo that, uh, served in World War II, and, uh, even some of the people that weren’t in the military, they served by, uh, manning the—they had a tower that they watched for…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Airplanes and what have you, like a civil defense kind of thing…
Schneider
Okay.
Aulin
And, uh, I know that Andy’s sisters did some of that and the, uh, other girls in town, uh, volunteered to do that, and there was—the tower was downtown, uh, by the red light too…
Schneider
h huh.
Aulin
From what I understand. I think that’s where it was. Have to ask somebody who was here then, but I think that’s where it was from the stories...
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
They tell.
Schneider
Mmhmm, um, and you mentioned some of the founding families of Oviedo. What—is there anything else—any other stories you know about them, or, um—besides [inaudible]…
Aulin
Well, I do know that, uh, it—I think this is sort of funny. Uh, When I came and I was living with Andy’s aunt and she would mention someone or I would mention someone, and she would say something like, “Oh, they’re one of the new people.”
Schneider
Oh [laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] And I would say, “Oh, when did—when did they come to Oviedo?” And she says, “Oh, I think they came in like the 20s.”
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] And—she—her family was the Jacobs, and they—her father settled on—at—at Lake Pickett…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
Way back in the 1800s. Uh, his brother settled on Lake Mills.
Schneider
Yeah.
Aulin
And then his sister was married to, uh, a Kilby, I think, and they settled in, um, Geneva on Lake Harney.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
So it—out of the same family, they all settled on lakes, and then Aunt Nettie married, uh, an Aulin, and so she was like from first—a first family of two different places, and, uh, she used to say—and not only she—when I would first come to Oviedo and I’d be like at my grandmother’s, somebody would say, uh, “Oh, we’d better get back to Oviedo before the creek rises,” or if you were in Oviedo, uh, they would say, “Well, we’d better get back to Chuluota before the creek rises,” and Aunt Nettie explained to me what that was—is that once upon a time there was a—a low bridge, where the regular bridge is going from Oviedo to Chuluota, but it was a low bridge, and if the water got high, you couldn’t go across it, because you couldn’t see the bridge, and, uh, so it was true that if it was raining or something like that and the bridge got overflowed, then you were stuck. You had to…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
[laughs] stay there. So that’s why they said that. They—and they still say it as far as I know, to this day, “If, you know—if the creek rises, we’d better,” just as a sort of joke or whatever, and, um, I [laughs] always thought that—well, I liked it when I found out what it—what it meant, and there was something else I was gonna tell you around those lines, but, um, every little town has its—its little sayings, and funny things, and, um—but I can’t think of what else I was gonna tell you. Anyway…
Schneider
Uh huh [laughs]. So tell me about, um, you mentioned some of the artifacts that you had, um, so tell me a little bit about what those were or if you have any stories about them.
Aulin
Well, I don’t really have any artifacts. I have some copies of things that…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Uh, have been handed to me, because of my interest in genealogy.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Uh, I have, uh, copies of some pages out of a Lawton, uh, Bible that, uh—these people I’ve met in Northwest Florida—and it has, of course, the names of people that were here, you know, like, uh, Lona, and Narcissa [Melissa Lawton], and those, um, Lawtons, and, um, then I have, uh, different, you know, writings, and newspaper clippings, and, um, things like that. I had some, um, things that belonged to my husband’s, um, father, but I sent them to, uh—or had his grandmother send them—send them to her son—her grandson in Tennessee, because he was interested in that stuff…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
And not many people, you know, really are, and so…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
I thought that would be a good thing for him to have, but as far as, uh, actual hold-it-in-your-hand kind of thing, other than copies and—and writings, I don’t— I don’t really have anything.
Schneider
Uh huh, and what were some of the things that were sent? what were some of the, um…
Aulin
Uh, well, I’ve got, uh—we have a copy of, uh, Nar—Narcissa’s diary.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
A portion of it that she did
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
In World War…
[child cries]
Aulin
I mean in the Civil War.
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Uh, and that’s very interesting.
Schneider
Wow.
Aulin
And I mean it really takes you back in—in time.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And there—one of the things she writes about is, uh, having to make, uh, shoes for, uh, some of the people that worked there, and she didn’t—obviously, they were slaves, but she didn’t call them that.
Schneider
Hm.
Aulin
It was “our people,” you know?
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
And she had to make them some shoes, and, uh, she talked about the war, and, she, you know—she heard bad news that would come down from Virginia, and she was in, uh—right outside Thomasville, Georgia, is where they lived at that time.
Schneider
Huh.
Aulin
And, uh, it’s really, really a treasure having—having that, uh, but it’s, uh, a copy of it, and it’s, uh—I don’t even know who’s got the original. Oh, I do. I[?] happen to be—the original, uh, got washed away in a flood they had out in Texas, where…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
Where it was—where it was kept, uh, which is regrettable, ‘cause, I mean, now it’s gone, but fortunately, we all have—or not all of us—but a lot of us have copies of it.
Schneider
Wow[?].
Aulin
So that’s really, really another treasure.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, uh, then I have these like—I think I had already told you—these copies of that—pages out of that Bible, where they note the family happenings—you know, deaths, births—that kind of thing—weddings, Um, and like—like I said, the Steen, uh, Nelson letter. I’ve got, I think, probably, uh, all the books and things that were written, and—and I have treasures from the, um, centennial, and newspaper clippings, and things like that.
Schneider
Awesome, very cool. Um, so are there any other stories that you want to share about—in general, that you’ve been thinking about? Um…
Aulin
Well, I, you know—I can sit here and tell you stories, uh, about, uh, my mother-in-law [inaudible], but I don’t know if they would have any interest to, um—I mean, it’s just—you would just be interested if you were her granddaughter or something like that, you know? It’s just sorta family things.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
But, um, Aunt Nettie, uh, as I said, you know—she—her husband was the one they called “The Judge.” he was the Justice of the Peace, and, um, she, um, also had, uh—it wasn’t a boarding house, but she had extra rooms in her house, and there was a time when the railroad people were working here or whatever, uh, and, you know, Oviedo used to be really busy with all of the fruit, vegetables being shipped in and outta here—or being shipped out of here.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, um, so she would, um, let out a room to these people that work for the railroad, and, uh, she used to tell me little saying—like one of ‘em would, uh, put cheese in his coffee, and [laughs]…
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
I’ve never heard of that before, and then she would always say, uh—she was a swe—sweet, old lady. She was so precious, and she would say, uh, “Nadine, you want some cheese in your coffee?” I said, “No, Aunt Nettie. I don’t want any cheese in my coffee.”
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
That’s what the man would say. He would say…
Schneider
Oh.
Aulin
“I want some cheese for her coffee.” [laughs]
Schneider
[laughs].
Aulin
Just little stories like that…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
You know, that doesn’t mean anything to anybody, but…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
Just, uh, you had to know the people. You had to be there, you know, sort of thing. So…
Schneider
Uh huh, great, and, um, so do you have any last words about maybe what impact that your relatives and—have had in the town in the early history or just any other thoughts about Oviedo’s history in general?
Aulin
Well, I [inaudible]—I think that Oviedo has a, uh—a good history, you know? You don’t really think of too many bad things happening in Oviedo. I don’t know—don’t know that I recall anything bad. I did[?]—I know that there’s been some, uh—there used to be a prison camp out on the way to Winter Park, on that road.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, uh, I think there was an escape, uh—escape there, and I think, uh, that’s when Mr. John Courier[sp] got hurt. Now, this you’re gonna have to talk to other people about, because I don’t really know, but I do know that there’s been things like that that have happened…
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
That are tragic.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
But, um, I—I don’t know any firsthand information about that, and—but as far as Oviedo is concerned, I think that, uh, like I said in the beginning, the—the churches is[sic] what it was all based on, and I think pretty much, it still has that, uh, heritage, that rock, that—that keeps it sorta held together, and I think all that’s important. Uh, we have a lot more churches now than just the Methodist and the Baptist.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And, uh, the, uh, church that’s, uh, mainly black people on the, uh, way out of town…
Schneider
Mmhmm.
Aulin
Uh, I think that’s been there for years and years and years and years, and, uh, I noticed the other day, it’s growing like gangbusters, just like the other churches.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
And that’s really great, and that’s really a good foundation, and I think that they’ve—we’ve maintained that foundation.
Schneider
Uh huh.
Aulin
So that’s a good thing.
Schneider
Great, alright. Well, thank you so much for talking with us. this was really helpful.
Aulin
Oh, well, thank you. I hope that it was. I, uh, enjoyed it. Sorta nice bringing those memories back. Sorry I couldn’t remember some things.
Schneider
No, no. It’s—that’s great.
[1] Andrew Aulin III.
[2] Mary Alice Powell Aulin.
[3] Lee Gary.
[4] Now the University of Central Florida.
[5] Now the Citizens Bank of Florida.
[6] Andrew Aulin, Jr.
[7] Oviedo: Biography of a Town.
[8] Richard R. Adicks, Jr.
[9] Emma “Lona” Leonora Lawton Aulin.
[10] 1904.
[11] Charles Warren Aulin.
Thorncroft
This is an oral history interview of Lars [D.] White. Interview conducted by Sarah Thorncroft at the Fire Administration and Emergency Management Office at 1934 County Road 419 West in Oviedo, Florida, on March the 27th of 2015. Our interview topics include growing up in Oviedo and the Oviedo Fire Department. Um, so will you just please state your name for me and explain where you were born and when?
White
Okay. Um, my name is Lars White.
Thorncroft
Mmhmm.
White
Uh, I was born in Winter Park Hospital, uh, November of 1960, and, uh, you want me—elaborate?
Thorncroft
Yeah.
White
Okay.
Thorncroft
When did your parents come to the area?
White
Okay, um, we relocated to Oviedo about 1968. It was pretty small town then. It was about 2,000 population—maybe a little less. A single traffic light, a lot of dirt roads, and Oviedo, in that era, was really known still for its agricultural beginnings and it was still a very active agricultural community, but it was on the cusp of development. A lot of that is a result of, uh, what was Florida Technological University and now the University of Central Florida, and as that campus began to grow and expand, and in its many offerings, we needed residential homes for people to, uh—to use that amenity of the collage. So that’s really what started changing Oviedo, to some degree, as well as, uh, there’s[sic] many historians that feel like the children of the original farmers recognized what a hard life farming is, and as the land became so valuable, uh, it became worthwhile to them to begin to sell the properties, and, uh, of course that turned into a lot of residential living units for our town. So that’s kinda the beginnings, I say, of Oviedo and its—its, uh, expansion to such a nice residential—or what we call it: “kids and cul-de-sacs.”
Thorncroft
So you were about eight years old when your family came to Oviedo. What schools did you attend when you were here?
White
Well, I had gone to, uh, St. Luke’s [Lutheran School], uh, for kindergarten, because it wasn’t offered at Lawton Elementary [School] at the time. Oviedo had just desegregated. They’d opened Oviedo High School about that timeframe. Uh, it was a very peaceful, uh, setting. There—there were not—there was no turmoil with it. Uh, it was a very smooth transition. Uh, I don’t recall any encounters or difficulties with that, and then I started, uh, first grade at Lawton Elementary—first through fifth grade—and then Jackson Heights [Middle School] sixth through eighth grade, and then Oviedo High School, of course, ninth through 12th grade. Graduated in 1979.
Thorncroft
What are some, um, school memories you have, if any?
White
[laughs] Well, [coughs]I do reminding[sic], uh—remind myself of riding the bus to school, and the busses of that, uh, era were a little bit different than they are today. Today, they’re, uh, air-conditioned and very comfortable [laughs]. I can remember very hot rides in the bus, and, uh, trying to get the windows to go down and get the best seats, but, uh, it was such a small town. You really—you knew everyone. I mean—you knew every student. You pretty much knew where everyone lived. Uh, today I don’t think that’s quite the case, ‘cause of the campuses, two high schools, two middle schools, uh, about five or six elementary schools. So, uh, there’s pretty good chance you don’t know everyone.
Uh, so that was kinda a neat, uh, part to be from, uh, Oviedo, but the, uh—the schools were great, uh—a good education. A[?], uh—the high school years probably were my favorite. Uh, you just tend to develop more relationships in those—those timeframes, as well. I got active in, um, a little bit of politics as sophomore class president and senior class president, and enjoyed that a lot. Homecoming bonfires and things of that nature, a lot of fun sporting events, but, uh, it was just a nice—it was a nice time in Oviedo.
Thorncroft
Where were those bonfires? Because they’ve stopped doing those now.
White
Yeah.
Thorncroft
[laughs].
White
[laughs] Uh, [coughs] yeah, the [Seminole County Public] School[s] system decided it wasn’t necessarily the safest thing to do. Um, maybe they had a few episodes after our class graduated, but they used to be on the front football field or off to the side, and the junior-senior class would compete in competition, uh, to win the trophy, and I’m proud to say my class won the junior and senior year. There weren’t[sic] a whole lot of classes that won back to back, but certainly thereafter, they stopped the bonfires. Uh, they’ve turned it into parades and, uh, other contests and things.
Thorncroft
So the bonfires were more like the pep rallies?
White
Yes, yup.
Thorncroft
Um…
White
Kind of a throwback to the traditional days. I think bonfires were probably a very common, um, almost a patriotic occurrence at the schools, you know, for the homecoming game.
Thorncroft
And were you involved in any other activities other than student government?
White
Well, I grew up on a horse farm, so I rode horses, uh, all the way up through my—‘bout my junior year in high school, and then I got kinda disinterested in it, but we used to ride in horse shows—hunter/jumper horse shows, and we competed in what was called the, uh, 100-mile endurance ride up in the Ocala National Forest. That was once a year, and that was fun. Had a, uh—a great time doing that. So that was kinda—my childhood years was[sic], uh, horses.
Thorncroft
So what were some of the local hangouts and what did you guys do for fun growing up in Oviedo?
Unidentified
[coughs].
White
Oh, gosh. There wasn’t…
Unidentified
[coughs].
White
A lot in Oviedo. I mean—the school system was really your entertainment, unless you created entertainment on your own. There wasn’t[sic] any recreational or other activities in town. The city parks hadn’t really developed yet. If you were engaged in little league or sports like that, you had those venues. Uh, church was—was very instrumental in our lives, as well. Um, they had a lot of activities at—at church to—to fill our needs, as—as well. Um, I guess the high school sports—you know, attending the games and so forth—were primarily the form of entertainment, and then, uh, movies. Visiting the movie theater usually we had to go to Altamonte [Springs] to do that. We did have what was known as the Oviedo Lights. Uh, you have probably heard that story, but, um, most of us, uh, uh, visited that location from time to time to—just kind of a hangout type-thing. Never found or discovered anything, but, uh, that was kind of a—always a fun evening.
Thorncroft
So when you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
White
I had no earthly idea. I didn’t. As I was going through high school, I was one that was struggling with what to do for a—a professional career. I started working my senior year at Sears, Roebuck and Company on Forsyth Road in, uh, Winter Park-Goldenrod area, and thought I would probably take a job in retail. I actually ended up working in their accounting auditing department, for some reason. Uh, they said I scored real well on the math test, which, uh, didn’t reflect my school grades all that well [laughs], but anyways, I did that for a year or two, and the volunteer fire chief at the time, Andy McDaniel, approached me, said, “We need a little help. We’re kinda low in our volunteer roster. Would you mind lending some time, uh, participating with us?” And I said, “Well, okay, sure. It’s my hometown. I’ll give that a try,” and I really took a love for it, and it looked like an opportunity for a career, as well. Um, I knew the town was growing, so I went and got my certified firefighting standards and state examinations certificate, and my then my Emergency Medical Technician, and soon after that, uh, a job was offered to me in 1983, and I’ve been here ever since.
Thorncroft
[inaudible]. Um, so have you ever lived outside of Oviedo or outside of Florida?
White
Nope.
Thorncroft
Nope [laughs]?
White
[laughs] Born and raised Oviedo. I’m as hometown as you can get [laughs], I would say. Um, even my children have grown up here, went to the same schools I did, and they’re graduates now of, uh, Lawton and Jackson Heights and Oviedo High School. Uh, my son’s a graduate of the University of Central Florida. Uh, my daughter’s got her two year degree from Seminole State College, and working on a, uh—an esthetician, and in paramedical program now for dermatology.
Thorncroft
So how do you think their childhoods being raised in Oviedo compares to yours? Are they similar? Are they different?
White
Yeah, I think there were a lot of similarities, uh, except on a larger scale. Um, my daughter participated in the Pop Warner cheerleading and did cheerleading in high school, as well. So she was well connected to the school system. My son was very active in a lot of things in the school, very, uh, school-spirited and so forth. So it was fun watching them enjoy some of the same, uh, traditions and nuances that we got to experience.
Thorncroft
So, um, what about your wife? Is she also from Oviedo?
White
She is. Uh, she was from Winter Springs, but Winter Springs was designated for Oviedo schools. Uh, we knew each other in school. We didn’t date in school. It was, uh—as soon as we graduated, we started dating, but, uh, yes, we’ve known each other for a very long time [laughs].
Thorncroft
[laughs] Um, has she been involved in the community at all? Or…
White
Yup, she’s retired from, uh, one of the hometown banks—Citizens Bank of Oviedo is what it was called at the time. Now, it’s Citizens Bank of Florida. Uh, she’s been very active a lot of the activities I have with the [Oviedo] Historical Society and many other venues. Uh, she works right now part-time, uh, as an office manager and taking care of a local insurance company and all their booking and accounting needs, and so forth—personnel management.
Thorncroft
Soearlier you mentioned got involved with the [Oviedo] Fire Department at a volunteer basis. Was the fire department volunteer back in the [19]70s and ‘80s? When did it become more professionalized?
White
Well, the—the history of the Oviedo Volunteer Fire Department started about 19—uh, 60. around that time frame is when they began to organize themselves, and after a couple catastrophic fires in town, where they had to rely on resources from way out from other entities, they decided to, uh, put it—something together, and it was really a bunch of farmers that, uh, built a fire engine—you know, really a water truck, and it grew from there.
Uh, when I joined the department, it was a little more organized than that. They issued you a pager, so you were alerted to the calls through a paging system, instead of the old siren system that used to alert the whole town, and if you could come help you ran down to the fire station, and grabbed some gear and went to the call. So it evolved from that, but it was obvious in the early 80s, as we start forming the full-time department, that it would have to move that way. The traffic, the growth—all of that was lending itself to something that volunteers just could not take care of any longer. So we kept them on board as a combination department for about 10 years. It was in the early ‘90s when the volunteer portion of the fire department dissolved itself, and we were then just a full-time fire department.
Thorncroft
So what have been the most memorable calls you’ve had to go out on as a fire—firefighter[?]?
White
Okay. Well, I’ve been involved in it for 31 years full-time, and volunteered about three or four years before that. Uh, I would say my first day as a volunteer firefighter was rather exciting. Uh, I had joined on a Wednesday night. They gave me a pager, gave me some gear, and pretty much just said, “If—if the pager goes off, come down to the fire station. We’ll tell you what you need to do, and we’ll get you trained in this overtime.”
Well, the pager went off, uh, that first Saturday, and I came down to the fire station, and, um, no one else showed up, and the pager went off again, and a police officer pulled up. He said, “Are y’all coming to the call or not?” I said, “Well, I’m by myself. I really [laughs] haven’t really been trained.” we both started the rescue vehicle, and he led me to the call with his police vehicle, and I went by myself [laughs]. It was just a very unusual occurrence. Usually, there was a senior officer that was always in town. There was a miscommunication that day, and it happened one more time that day—that afternoon. So I went to my first two emergencies by myself. One was just a Band-Aid call, uh, and I think the other was just a trip and fall or something like that. So they were both very low key incidents, but I thought Well, I guess I was meant to participate. They do need some help here [laughs].
Some of the more meaningful calls though, um, have been where I’ve been involved in, uh, assisting on traffic crashes that were, uh, very traumatic and things of that nature. I have one that really sticks in my mind with a—a young high school girl that was, uh, stuck by a car. She was walking along the side of the highway, [coughs] and when I got there, she was almost taking her last breaths. Um, she was so tragically injured, but everything worked the way it was supposed to. All of our training showed that night. Uh, we—we prepared her, uh—started treating her, packaged her for a[sic] emergency helicopter flight, got her to the trauma center in less than 35 minutes. She was in surgery in one hour. Uh, she had major extensive damage, but about six months later, she walked into the fire station to—to say, “Hello,” and say, “Thank you,” and that one really touched my heart, uh, you know, pretty—pretty hard. So…
Thorncroft
So other than the more memorable calls, what has been the most rewarding aspect of your career?
White
Well, I’ve been blessed to move up in the organization at different levels. Um, I—I don’t think it was ever my intention to become the Fire Chief and Emergency Management Director. It just kinda happened. Um, in 2004, my Fire Chief retired and the City Manager put me in as the Interim Fire Chief Emergency Management Director, and encouraged me to apply for the—the position, and they were doing a—a national search at the time. At that time, we were hit by three back-to-back hurricanes. So, uh, I had to manage those events as the Emergency Management Director, and as they referred to me at that time, they said that was really my formal interview, uh—was my performance, uh, at those three events, and that was, uh, quite a memorable experience as well. our town experiencing that. It certainly wasn’t a one man show. All the departments, and all the directors, and all the employees were instrumental in our disaster response and recovery efforts, uh, but the Emergency Management Director kinda is the conductor of the band and—and keeps everything together as you’re going through it. So, uh, We had a good plan in place and I was familiar with it, but, uh, it was kinda thrown in my lap real—real quickly, but I think that’s been good for me. I did have the advantage of fulfilling all the different positions—a Lieutenant, a Captain, uh, a Battalion Chief. I was the Division Chief of Training and Emergency Medical Services when I got promoted to Fire Chief. So I had some real good, diverse education and training that I think helped prepare me for the past 11 years as Fire Chief [laughs].
Thorncroft
Um, so you spoke earlier before our interview about the Veterans Memorial for Oviedo. what are your main motivations for creating that?
White
Well, being involved in the historical society, I always took interest in that aspect, as well. Um, Around 2002-2003, we learned that the road widening project was, in fact, going to take place in Oviedo on, uh, [Florida] State Road 426-County Road 419, and it also was going to take land from the fire station and the Memorial Building. In fact, to the level that we have to take the buildings down, the City [of Oviedo] even looked at having the Memorial Building lifted and moved, but it just wasn’t feasible. So, uh, we learned that we were going to lose our only connection to our veterans. The Memorial Building was built in honor of, uh, four men who lost their lives in World War II, and the town built that building. Uh, used to be pictures of our military veterans depicted inside the building.
So [Oviedo] City Council asked me, “Would you, uh, chair a committee and study building a veterans memorial in our town somewhere.” So I took on that task. I studied veterans’ memorials all across the country for about six months, and then formed the committee, and we included, uh, city staff, um, the American Legion Post [243] from Oviedo. We had a[sic] architect on board, uh, um, uh, a—another architect that was instrumental in Winter Springs [Veterans] Memorial. So we put the team together, started our planning efforts, and it went from there. Um, it’s—it’s been, uh, a good experience. We’ve been working on it for about three years. We’re going to dedicate it, uh, this, uh, May 25, uh—Memorial Day 2015.
Uh, I’ve had a lot of interesting conversations with families and veterans, and heard some real personal stories, and I think that’s probably been the most meaningful aspect of it. I think it’s made the project more meaningful to me. I’ve also had, uh, family members that have served, uh, primarily in World War II, and learned a lot about their personal stories and things I had—I had never known before and some very heroic acts, uh—not only of them, but all those protect us every day every night. So this is going to mean a lot to me. I’m excited about it and Excited to get it done, ‘cause we’ve been working on it for such a long time.
Thorncroft
So with the impending, you know, de—demolition of Downtown Oviedo, um, that fire house there—I heard through the grapevine—is the oldest one in Seminole County. Is that any sort of major loss to the community, you think?
White
Well, it has some sentimental value, since it was the original fire station location. Um, I think there—in the region, there were older fire stations than that, ‘cause there’s, uh—Sanford goes further back than our time frame for volunteers and full-time department. Um, it’s probably second to Sanford, in age. Um, it—yeah, it’s going to a little be hard to see it come down, um, but we’ll take some bricks off it. We’ll memorialize it. We have some wonderful pictures of it, and we’re gonna start a new legacy at the new location, but it is important to document it and capture it in our history, but we know all things change, in time.
Uh, ironically, all those business down that corridor have been waiting for this moment. Uh, their—their properties have had limited value, and property owners knew that, and children that inherited them. So they knew when the road widening project was coming along. They hadn’t been able to sell their properties. nobody wants to buy those buildings. Um, There’s—parking has been a[sic] atrocious problem down there for those businesses—businesses to thrive. So, um, we—we’ve captured in—in records the best we can. Historical society empowered the local Oviedo Photography Club.[1] So we have some good records of it, and that’s not the original downtown. The original downtown burnt down at one time, as well. So that was kinda, uh, “version 2.0” I’ll call it. So now it’s time to launch version 3.0, you know, for Oviedo’s history.
Thorncroft
Alright, so in a little bit of research for this interview, I saw that in 2013 you were asked to conduct an investigation in Oviedo chicken population.
White
Yeah [laughs].
Thorncroft
Uh, what was your reaction when you were asked to do that investigation?
White
[laughs] Uh, a little embarrassing [laughs]. Probably asking myself, Why me? You know, Why did I get charged with this? I think having grown up here, uh, they probably said, uh, “You need to handle this,” and, uh, animal control duties fall under emergency management duties as well, but it was more to, uh, kinda appease the crowd out there. It was beginning wondering what’s going on, but the, uh—the chickens have always been a part of Oviedo’s history. I suspect they’ll survive the growth, as well. There’s still plenty of land and pockets of land and so forth for them to survive. They, uh, have lasted all these years, so I think they’ll—they’ll, uh, migrate through the next decade or longer, as well. So…
Thorncroft
So you think they’ll just kinda migrate up to new Downtown Oviedo?
White
Uh, they kinda move on their own and—and set up a new habitat. Uh, they’re a little bit territorial. Uh, usually, if you try to relocate ‘em to a certain location, uh, they move from wherever you create a habitat. They create one on their own. So, uh, their population numbers go up and down. The research showed a little bit of, uh, just a normal cycle where some other wildlife were, uh—well, it’s just the chain of life, you know? They were getting to the chickens, eating the eggs before they would hatch, and so forth, and, uh, I think some of that has, uh, tempered down a little bit. We’re starting to see another rise in the chicken population, and we understand there’s a group out there that likes to feed ‘em and kinda maintain ‘em a little bit. So I think they’re doing well.
Thorncroft
What is your earliest memory of seeing an Oviedo chicken, because nobody knows…
White
[laughs].
Thorncroft
Exactly where they came from?
White
No, there’s a hundred different stories, depending on who you ask. Uh, it was an agricultural community, so chickens were very common. Uh, they were common at residential homes, as well. People would just use ‘em for harvesting eggs. We had them on the horse farm we had, because it was known that chickens would often contract, uh, a serious disease before the horses might contract it or the cattle. So the farmers, uh, horse owners, cattle owners would, uh, use that as a gage to—to bring in the veterinarian before that could spread to the other crops and—and animals and so forth. So there was a[sic] actual purpose behind having chickens, but I think they were just part of the, uh, typical farming community.
Thorncroft
What about the, uh, peacocks that I typically see kinda wondering through Oviedo? Do you know anything about them?
White
Now, that’s probably the bigger question. Um, I don’t know where they came from. Uh, nobody really does. It’s likely someone acquired ‘em at some point in time, and became tired of ‘em, and just turned ‘em loose, but, uh, we don’t really have any historical knowledge of—of how they came about. They’re pretty to look at, but they’re pretty destructive too, and[?], uh…
Thorncroft
Have there…
White
Scratch cars and so forth. So…
Thorncroft
Have there been any incidents involving them, like accidents or…
White
Once in a while, we’ll get a citizen complaint, uh, that usually goes to Animal Control[2] for them or for aggressive roosters, certain times of year. Uh, they are just, uh, protective of themselves. So they’ll scratch you or peck at ya and so forth. A few complaints now and then where they damaged cars and things like that, but other than that, they’re—they’re pretty quiet.
Thorncroft
Alright. Um, well, is there anything else you’d like to share with me today about the history of Oviedo, growing up there, or anything?
White
Well, it’s been a great town. I—I think our growth has been pretty well managed. Uh, Traffic is always a problem in any town, and it’s always a catch-up type thing you’re never really completely prepared. The city doesn’t have a lot control over some of that, ‘cause they’re [Seminole] County and State [of Florida] roads and things of that nature. Uh, I’ve watched a lot of dirt roads get paved, uh, watched a lot of subdivisions come in to town, and that’s been—it’s been fun. I’m glad that people have enjoyed the hometown feel like just like I did, and that’s what you see a lot on social media and so forth—is folks really love this area.
There’s a lot of, uh, civic organizations in here just doing some wonderful things, uh, so many groups, uh, A lot of hometown spirit, uh, A friendly rivalry between the two high schools. It’s been healthy. it hasn’t been destructive, so that’s been good. Uh, Seminole County has a top of the line school system. I think that’s attracted a lot of people to this area. It’s still a little bit rural. We’ve got the river that runs through—the Econ[lockhatchee] River that runs through our town. People get to enjoy that and paths, and parks, and trails. Oviedo, uh, has some wonderful recreation, parks, facilities.
And I like to pride ourselves on our [Oviedo] Police [Department] and Fire Department. Uh, the police do community patrolling where they’re well-connected with the community, and, uh, our philosophy, in our department too, is a hometown fire department, and we treat every person, every contact, as if it were a family member, and that’s our—our philosophy in our organization is serve with, uh, excellence, uh, serve with honor, serve with respect, and, uh, I think that’s a throwback to the beginning of the volunteers. They did that, as well. You just—you entered into this career, ‘cause you wanted to give back something to the community. Although we’re paid to do it, it’s, uh, more meaningful than that, and, uh, I think it’s been a—a good career for me and a great town to grow up in. So that’s what I would add to the conversation.
Thorncroft
Alright, and I guess my last question would just be how did you get, you know, so interested in history and involved with that?
White
Well, knowing that the town was growing, knowing that we were going to lose the downtown area, and, uh, just being a part of Oviedo’s history. I think it’s important when folks come to town, you need to know where the community came from. Every time I hire a new employee in the fire department, they learn where this department started, that it was on the backs of a bunch of dedicated, volunteer firefighters, and, uh, it’s important they know that. So, uh, being involved in the historical society, and our Lawton House and [Oviedo] Farmers Market and things like that, I—I think it’s important we share that message. Uh, you learn from your past so you don’t make the same mistakes in the future. That’s a, uh, certainly historical, uh, uh, perspective that our, uh, elected officials and military leaders follow, and I think it serves well even for a hometown.
Thorncroft
Alright, well, thank you so much for your time today.
White
Thank you, Sarah.
Morris
It is November 2, 2011, and I'm talking to Rex Clonts[, Jr.] at his residence. I am Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Mr. Clonts, could you tell us a little about your life?
Clonts
Well, I was born in 1949 in the hospital, in Orange Memorial Hospital in Orlando, to Rex Clonts, Sr., my dad, and my mother, Thelma Lee Clonts. I'm gonna talk a little bit about their life, if that's okay.
Morris
Perfect, sir.
Clonts
My dad came to Oviedo riding in the lap of his mother—he was one year old, age of one—in a Model A Ford, from north Georgia in 1937, I believe. And my mother was born here on Lake Charm in Oviedo. They both passed on rather recently. They—so, basically, both lifelong residents of Oviedo. And after the war [World War II] they married, and I'm the oldest of their five children. Four of us still live right here in Seminole County, and have one sister who lives in Cartersville, Georgia.
Morris
What kind of jobs did your parents do while they lived in Oviedo, sir?
Clonts
Their families were in agriculture. Oh, let me start over. Let me start back just a little bit. My mother's family had—her grandfather had moved down here in the 1880s, and her father—my grandfather—C. S. Lee, was born here on Lake Charm in Oviedo. And his dad was in agriculture, taking care of citrus trees. And so my grandfather was always in the citrus, vegetable, and cattle business. And so my mother was familiar with all those endeavors coming up, and it was natural that she married a farmer—my father. His father also had begun farming shortly after arriving in Oviedo.
Morris
Same type of farming, sir?
Clonts
Both of them were vegetable farmers growing celery.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Clonts
They grew some other crops from time to time, but specialized in celery farming. And so—growing up here—that's what my family did. We had some orange groves, but the majority of the family focus was on the vegetable farming operation. C. R. Clonts Associated Growers was the company that my grandfather started in the early 1940s, and at one time we farmed over 200 acres of celery right here in eastern Seminole County-Oviedo area. You got a mosquito on your cheek. Got him.
Morris
Thank you, sir.
Clonts
Celery farming was extremely profitable, lucrative during the early '30s and '40s. Sort of the heyday of the Oviedo celery industry. So their timing was good. But over—after the war, when all the boys came home from the war, and a lot more celery was being grown in the United States, markets went down. Prices went down. The small farms here in Oviedo weren't as easy to operate—weren't as efficient. And so my father and grandfather purchased land in Zellwood—in the Zellwood muck area on Lake Apopka. And they did that in anticipation of needing to be having a more modern, large, contiguous farm. So they purchased that in the year I was born, in 1949. So when I grew up, we were farming both places. My father was farming both—multiple small farms here around Oviedo—Black Hammock, Mitchell Hammock, the Slavia area—and we were raising vegetables at our Zellwood farm. And that was 650 acres. And as a child, I remember going over, and every year they would clear up another portion of that farm. So they started by farming just 40 acres, and then over about another 10 or 12 years, they cleared the rest of it so that they could farm all 650 acres over there.
When I went off to college, I specifically—I went to school so that I wouldn't be a farmer. I could have stayed home and been a farmer. So I was planning on working in the business world, and just before I graduated realized the one business I could control was coming back here, taking over the family farm. And so I came back and joined actively working full-time in 1971, when I got out of college. And I moved over to Apopka and ran that Zellwood farm. We grew celery, lettuce, carrots, sweet corn, occasionally onions and parsley—several crops over the years, but the staple was always celery, sweet corn, and carrots. And in about 1978, we closed down our last Oviedo farm. Up until that time, we'd been farming both places, but we closed that down, and the last farm land that we were actively farming is now—is in Mitchell Hammock—is now a sod farm along Mitchell Hammock in between Mitchell Hammock and Chapman Roads. So, no longer used for vegetables. Family still owns the land, but we don't farm vegetables anymore.
Morris
Okay, sir. So your family's no longer in the farming business, but they were in the farming business up until 1978?
Clonts
Well, we still were in business here in several ways. We always had orange groves here.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Clonts
And we have cattle ranches.
Morris
Those were my follow-up questions.
Clonts
Yeah. You know, you'd find most people that had been multi-generational in the vegetable business in Central Florida also have had orange groves and cattle, because the three just naturally go together here. And you can, if you're successful in one, you're able to be successful in the other, usually.
Morris
How come they go together like that, sir?
Clonts
Well, vegetables are very seasonal, so, you know, you've got a fall crop and a spring crop, but you got time on your hands during the other portions of the year. So orange grove tends to be more year-round work, but is not as intensive as vegetable farming, so you can sort of work the two together. And then if you've been successful in the vegetable business, usually you reinvest in land, and very often the best use for that land is cattle. Only certain types of land are good vegetable land, but cattle you can graze just about anywhere in Central Florida.
Morris
Okay, sir. Could you give us a little insight into how you grow vegetables—celery in particular, citrus in particular—like the methods of how you would go about it?
Clonts
Celery's, in nature, celery grows, um—stop it.
Morris
Sure thing, sir.
Morris
Okay, sir. Would you like to continue?
Clonts
Yeah. Celery in Central Florida is—the seed is planted in the fall, and it’s planted in seed beds so that you can grow a large number of plants in a small, controlled area. You can herbicide them. You can control the irrigation. And as those seeds—because celery seeds are a very difficult seed to sprout. It’s not much larger than a large fleck of pepper, and takes a long time to germinate to get any substantial size, and so we would start planting seed in August. But because that seed is so tender, we would oftentimes cover those plants.
First of all, laid burlap out as soon as you rolled the seed down out on the ground, and let the seed actually germinate under the burlap where it would be cooler and moister. You kept the ground moist with subsurface irrigation, and actually surface irrigation between the beds to keep that environment just right for those little seeds to germinate. And then you would remove the sacks after the green—after the seeds germinated and started to show the first leaves. And we would grow them in the seed bed for about four months, and then we would transplant those plants, pull them up by the root, knock the majority of the dirt off the root, and pack them in boxes, take them to the production field. And we used a New Holland transplanter, which is a fairly simple machine that, as it’s pulled through the field, opens up a furrow, and it has a wheel with a set of fingers on it, and you can put the plants one at a time in the notches in the wheel, and as it goes around and puts the root in that furrow, it releases that plant. And we would have a bank of six of these wheels on the back of a tractor-drawn machine, and go through the field and transplant—we called it “setting”—the celery plants in the field. And from that point, they got immediately irrigated with overhead irrigation so that the ground got packed good[sic] around the roots, and they got a good start. Then it took anywhere from 75 to 90—and if the weather was cold, maybe 100—days to produce that crop. So growing celery’s four months in the seed bed, and three months in the field. It’s a long cycle, especially when you consider that in the off-time you’re having. Someone usually would gather seed from an arid region like Utah or California. Had our seed grown. So between the production of seed and the planting of seed and the growing of the crop, was just about a year-round endeavor. And we did all our harvesting in March, April, May, and June.
Morris
Why did you transplant it from the seed bed to the production area? What was the difference between—is it soil?
Clonts
No. Well, yes. It did happen to be different soil, but you could take ten acres of seed beds and grow enough plants for 200 acres of field production, and so was much less expensive to take care of that—to do the fungicide, and the weeding, and keeping the insects off of it on ten acres. And then you—when you pull those plants and spread them out where they would get to a large stalk, planted them at the right distance apart, you could have 200 acres of celery out of that. You only had three months to take care of that 200 acres.
Morris
Oh, okay, sir. So it was easier to guard and protect them when they were younger that way?
Clonts
Yeah, much easier, much less expensive to protect them. The transplanting operation was expensive, but it was not nearly as expensive as it would have been trying to put those plants—to put those seeds directly in the field and take care of them the whole seven months it took to grow that. And you could, also when that—the seed beds—that ten acres that that seed bed was on…
Morris
Mosquito’s trying to—he’s gone. He’s just scouting you out, sir.
Clonts
The ten acres that seed beds are on is very—you intensely farm that, and one of the preparations of doing that intense farming—this will keep the mosquitoes out—is that you level that land meticulously. You tried to—you ran a very intricate irrigation system all tile-drained, and you used—your seed bed land was your most prized possession in the celery business. That seed bed—a good seed bed—plot that was the right consistency of soil and the right ability to not only hold moisture, but to get rid of moisture when you had too much rain—to get rid of excessive rainfall—was very important. So celery farmers did a lot of work to try to get their seed bed just perfect and have the right plot of land to do that with.
Morris
So that was pretty common then, between celery farmers?
Clonts
Yeah. Every celery farmer in the state had their own seed beds. And now seed—most celery seed or a good portion of it—is grown in greenhouses. It’s grown in plant trays—in the trays of plants in greenhouses. So it’s got much more of a controlled environment to grow in now, than when we were growing them outside. But still the best plants are the ones grown outdoors. It’s just a lot tougher, a lot more work.
Morris
Okay, sir. Did you ever bleach the plants—whiten them?
Clonts
That was a practice that kind of came to an end in the mid-1940s. Until then, yes. They took the boards and put down the sides of celery, at least a portion of it, and they would bleach it. I remember them doing that as a child—I shouldn’t say that. I remember them talking about it, but I don’t actually remember seeing it.
Morris
Okay, sir. But why did they do that? I personally don’t understand.
Clonts
It was a practice that—I don’t know this for sure—but I think that it allowed celery to be harvested, and stored in root cellars, and carried much longer through the year, than if celery were left green and packed away and stored. You know, a lot of the original celery growers were Upstate New York and Michigan. In the North, when they grew celery, they grew it in the late summer, harvested it, and stored it, and shipped it out little by little during the wintertime. And so people would traditionally take celery, put it in a root cellar back in the—back before refrigeration. And it was very important to try to preserve that as long as you could before so that you had vegetables, and if you stored potatoes, and everything that you harvested in the fall, you stored and ate on it as long as you could. We’re not used to that nowadays. Nowadays you go to a supermarket and they got, you know, just about every vegetable year-round, but that’s just happened in my lifetime. Prior to that and prior to refrigeration in the early part of the 1900s, vegetables were very seasonal. And so you had an excess—you had an abundance at harvest time—you tried to store that as long as you could. And bleached celery would store better than green celery.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Clonts
That’s the reason. That’s the long-winded explanation for bleaching. And because it traditionally had been bleached, even after refrigeration came along in the early part of the 1900s, celery was—had always—people were used to eating bleached celery, so that’s the way it was done. That was phased out, and my understanding is that the military, right before World War II, came out with a report that said green celery was better for you than bleached celery—was more nutritious. And that one report was sort of the tipping point. They had been up until then, for the few years before that, they had been growing bleached and unbleached celery, and after that, bleached celery became a thing of the past.
Morris
Okay. Well, thank you, sir.
Clonts
All right. That’s the long-winded explanation. It’s kind of like, you know, why did all citrus juice come from a frozen concentrate can a few years ago, and now it’s available in a not-from-concentrate carton in the refrigerated section of the store? It’s sort of the same thing. It’s an evolution of technology and what people are used to. And you can’t—people don’t change their habits overnight. It takes a while.
Morris
All right. Gotcha, sir.
Clonts
But all the celery starting in the late ‘40s then, was not bleached celery.
Morris
Did your—so I’m understanding—well, you didn’t grow it that way, but your father and grandfather each did?
Clonts
Grandfathers definitely did. Yes.
Morris
Okay. Well, how, you said earlier that one of the stories you remember—hearing them talk about bleaching the celery. Do you remember any other childhood memories popped into your mind? You know, whether’s[sic] it in agriculture or just at school?
Clonts
Well, when I was—I do remember my father’s—excuse me—my grandfather’s mules. He had obviously started—mules were used a lot, exclusively in the 1800s, and quite a bit in the early 1900s, because in Oviedo most of this celery farming was grown on muck, and that soft, organic land, the heavy tractors of the day wouldn’t stand up. They’d do fine out here on the sand land, or where they were mostly used in the Midwest, but that muck soil was, you had to have good flotation. And they would even take the mules’ hooves and wrap them in sacks, and tie around the hooves to increase the footprint of the mule so that he wouldn’t bog up as much when he went through the field. And at the end of the day, untied those sacks off the bottom of the mules’ feet. And the next day, if it was still soft and wet out there, they’d retie them. That would keep him from bogging up. He’d only sink three inches instead of sinking eight inches.
Morris
And the mule accepted this.
Clonts
The mules accepted it. And you know, back then, if you were going to be a farmer, you had to be able to have a good—you had to know your mules, and be able to train them, and be able to work them. And it was an art to have a good team of mules. So I remember as a kid, the conversation between my dad and my grandfather, where my dad was saying, “What in the world are you doing keeping those mules? You haven’t plowed a field with them in five years now, and we’re not gonna ever use mules again. I don’t know why you’re fooling with them.” And my grandfather saying, “They’re my mules. I can’t just get rid of them.” So until those mules died, which was probably—I was probably six or seven years old—he still had a barn right on the end of Lake Charm at Florida Avenue. Along Florida Avenue there, he had a barn with two mules in it. But I’ve never seen them work the field. I’ve seen pictures. I’ve got pictures of it. In fact, I’ve got pictures of my grandfather with his mule team and his first tractor in the field, and he’s smiling. I think he’s more proud of the mules than he is the tractor.
Morris
He had two mules? Is that like a normal amount, or...
Clonts
Oh, well, they generally used a mule team. They generally used two mule teams farming here. Now, I have no idea how many total teams he had, but probably, you know, two or three teams of two.
Morris
You said your grandfather had worked the fields. Did your father also work as a farmer?
Clonts
Yeah. Yes.
Morris
And growing up, did you do the same?
Clonts
Well, I worked summers, you know, but—so when school got out in the summer, I’d go work with Dad, and work all summer long at the farm. But my dad always told me that, you know, he wanted me to be whatever I wanted to be. You know, don’t—he didn’t expect me to come back to the farm. If I did, it was going to be my decision. He wanted me to make that decision on my own.
Morris
Okay.
Clonts
So as I said, when I went off to college, I went so that I wouldn’t be a farmer, but ended up coming back.
Morris
When you came back, sir, did you work mostly the administrative? Or did you also go back and work the fields as well?
Clonts
No, I worked the fields. I mean, you know, times had changed, but we had a crew of tractor drivers and—but I was the farm manager. I oversaw not only decisions on what we were gonna plant and where we were gonna plant it, but when the planting times were gonna be, and how we were gonna try to space the crop out, what personnel we needed for packing, and shipping, and selling.
Morris
Okay, sir. Can you tell us how it’s changed over the years, like Oviedo and the areas you’ve lived in? Since you were growing up, I’m assuming there’s been a lot of changes between then and now.
Clonts
Well, Oviedo in the 1950s was an agricultural economy. Between the citrus and the vegetables that were grown, the basis for all the economy and all the services here was built around agriculture. That started changing in the late ‘50s, as some of the new equipment that was available had opened up new farming areas in the United States, and competition. For instance, in South Florida, the Belle Glade area opened up, and it was more economical in a lot of ways to grow products down there than it was up here. So, these farms tended to fall on harder times, and the more marginal farms and marginal farmers dropped out, sometimes bought up by other farmers, and sometimes that land was just taken out of production, never to be put in. There was lots of small pockets here in Oviedo that I remember having vegetables in them, that have not have been farmed in thirty years now.
Morris
Now, that started occurring the ‘50s, you said, sir?
Clonts
Well, late ‘50s.
And with the, you know, two things things happened about the time I started to go to—I graduated from high school and left to go to college. One is [Walt] Disney [World] opened up, and the other is that UCF [University of Central Florida] was established in our backyard here. And Disney really was the beginning of Orlando being a tourist destination. It had been a wintertime destination for a hundred years, almost, but it had not been a year-round tourist destination until [Walt] Disney established Disney World here.
UCF, being so close to Oviedo, changed Oviedo in that it brought in not only the teachers, professors, but all of the services that a large university requires, and, of course, the students. And so, it makes Oviedo a little bit more of a bedroom community to that college—doesn’t make it—Oviedo’s not the classic college town, but it is definitely a bedroom community to UCF. My perspective, because I left for college and didn’t come back to Oviedo—I lived in Apopka after that to run that farm, and just moved back fairly recently. I lived in Apopka for 35 years, but had lots of interests here. My family was here so I was, you know, monthly I was in Oviedo. And so I could see Oviedo change without being part of that change, you know, sort of being distanced from that change.
Morris
Okay.
Clonts
And really, not easily described, but a very constant growing and getting less and less dependent on agriculture, more and more dependent on the high-tech industries and moderate. You know, medium manufacturing, light manufacturing, and of course, tourism.
Morris
As a farmer, did you see UCF and Disney World as problematic for your business or for your community in Orlando?
Clonts
No, no. You know, you don’t try to rail against progress. It is—and you adapt to it. So, our family’s operation adapted as needed to those, and one reason why we closed the Oviedo farms down and just concentrated on our Zellwood operation was because that was the more modern farm of the last part of the 20th century, and the Oviedo farm was the farm of the first half of the 20th century.
Morris
Okay, sir. And since then both have farms have been closed down, correct, sir?
Clonts
Yes. We sold our Zellwood farm to the State of Florida as part of a restoration project to clean up Lake Apopka.
Morris
Okay. And that was 1979?
Clonts
No. No, we shut that down, sold that in 1998.
Morris
Oh, okay, sir. And have you been working elsewhere since then, or traveling, or…
Clonts
Yeah. We had citrus groves, and we expanded those after selling out the vegetable operation, but basically downsized. I said I retired when I sold the vegetable operation, because I work so much less now than I did back then. But I still stay busy and enjoy growing oranges. You know, even the citrus business has evolved. When I was on the outside, I didn’t think the citrus business changed very much in, you know, my whole lifetime. And then once I got involved in it, I realized it is evolving. So it’s an interesting business to be in. I really enjoy it.
Morris
How has it evolved?
Clonts
Well, we were, once again, especially around Oviedo, there were lots of small orange groves. You could send a man on a tractor down the road. If your farm was right here, you could send a man out on over to Casselberry or up to Lake Mary on a tractor pulling an implement, have him do work that day, and drive back in the evening to do work on a ten-acre grove. Now, the liability exposure of putting a tractor on the road, you wouldn’t do—you know, you couldn’t make enough money on a ten-acre grove to just cover the liability exposure. So, groves now tend to be large blocks of a hundred acres, 75 to 500 acres. Anything less than that is pretty hard to caretake.
Irrigation systems—groves weren’t irrigated except by portable aluminum pipe. In real dry times in the spring, you would hook portable irrigation pipe to a pump and irrigate down that row—and for two or three hours—and you would shut the pump down, move that pipe through the grove, and reassemble it, and water another strip. Now everything is micro-jet, where there’s a sprinkler under every row, under every tree, year-round, a permanent micro-sprinkler. The irrigation’s mostly done by a timer and moisture sensors in the ground so that you don’t—nothing’s ever touched once it’s installed out there.
Morris
Oh, okay. Because all I ever see of the orange trees, sir, I don’t get to see underneath the ground. I didn’t know what changes had occurred.
Clonts
They’ve all got a sprinkler underneath them now.
Morris
Okay.
Clonts
And we’re planting much closer than we used to. Trees used to be planted on a 25’ x 25’ spacing. Now, generally, you plant on a 12’ x 24’ spacing, so there’s a lot more trees to the acre, and everything’s worked one way down a row instead of two ways, like they used to do it in a grove. Used to be able to drive down two ways.
It’s starting to rain. Do you believe that?
Morris
No.
Clonts
Did you leave your windows down?
Morris
No, sir.
Clonts
Okay.
Morris
No. It must be that one random cloud, right there. That’s the one catch about Florida. You never know when it’s gonna rain, even with the sunny skies.
Clonts
Wow. I’m so surprised at that. I can’t—I wouldn’t have thought it’s gonna rain today, as cool as it was this morning.
Morris
On the plus side, it doesn’t snow randomly.
Clonts
Nah. Well, not very often.
Morris
I think I’ve seen it snow in Florida one time.
Clonts
Yeah.
Morris
But the snow disappeared before it hit the ground, and that was in the late ‘80s.
Clonts
Yeah.
Morris
Have you ever seen it snow in Florida, sir?
Clonts
Yeah. Yeah, about three different times I’ve seen where snow stayed around.
Morris
Really?
Clonts
Yeah, but not—the Christmas freeze of 1983. Snow stayed in shady spots for two days.
Morris
Wow. Would not have expected that from Florida.
Clonts
Yeah.
Morris
You said you still have the citrus industry as the business. Do you still do cattle, or ...
Clonts
Well, the Clonts family never was in the cattle business, but we owned pasture land.
Morris
Oh, okay.
Clonts
And so, we’ve never been involved directly in the cattle business, but we know it well because we’ve always had land that we leased to my cousins and to other cattlemen who ran the cows, kept up the fences, and paid their lease for all that.
Morris
Okay.
Clonts
So, was a way of having a ranch that was active cow ranch without having to be hands-on day-to-day in the business.
Morris
Okay, sir. And I’m assuming that made it a lot easier, then?
Clonts
Oh, yeah. Basically, you’re just a landowner. In the cow business, we’ve just been a landowner and landlord to the cattlemen.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Clonts
And it’s my mother’s brother, Robert Lee, was very involved in the cattle business all his life, so they leased most of our land.
Morris
Okay, sir. Jumping off subject, you mentioned when you went to college. You were old enough to go to UCF, were you not? Or was UCF ...
Clonts
I could’ve gone to UCF, and instead I chose to go to University of South Florida down in Tampa.
Morris
Oh, really? I didn’t even realize that university was as old.
Clonts
Yep.
Morris
So you’re a Bulls fan, then?
Clonts
That’s right.
Morris
My best friends would love to hear that. I, however, went to Florida State [University].
Clonts
Oh, yeah. Well, that’s another good school.
Morris
It’s a good school.
Are there any particular historical events that come to mind, when you think over the course of your life, sir, that stick out?
Clonts
Hm. You know, thinking back into my childhood, I remember one that was—and I don’t remember what the year was, probably was about 1961 or ’62—a jet aircraft flying a training mission out at what was then Sanford Naval Training Center [Naval Air Station Sanford], crashed just a few hundred feet from the edge of what is now Lawton Elementary School, but it was the Oviedo High School, which had all twelve grades at that time. And being in class, and hearing that crash, and all the flames and all the confusion afterwards. The pilot died in that crash. You know, one of those things you never forget. But I have forgotten the year. [laughs] So I guess I do forget it.
Morris
Oh, okay. But you remember the event though, right, sir?
Clonts
I remember the event.
Morris
What grade were you in at that time?
Clonts
It seems like I was in about seventh or eighth grade, something like that. Maybe I was younger than that, because my memory’s still pretty fuzzy. But still it was—I remember the confusion.
Morris
And was it over by the next day? Did you return to classes normally?
Clonts
Oh, yeah. And, you know, it was the talk of the town for months and months, but things got back to normal fairly quickly—not, you know. Military jets were still, at that time, you know—it was the new technology.
Morris
Right.
Clonts
So it wasn’t—we heard jets flying, but, you know, you didn’t see that many jets back then.
Morris
Unless they crashed right outside your school.
Clonts
Unless they crashed next to your school.
Morris
Then it’s hard to miss them. What kind of relationship did the community have with the military—the base—right there? Especially the farmers.
Clonts
Oh, I think it was a good relationship. You know, Florida was—a lot of people who were in the military during World War II, when they got out, ended up coming back to Florida, because Florida had been such a good place for military bases in the ‘40s. Got the climate where you can train year-round, you know. It’s a whole lot better being stationed on a base in Pensacola than it is in upstate Michigan in the wintertime. So Florida had lots and lots of bases that trained soldiers of all types in the 1940s. As I said, a lot of those people got a taste of Florida, and once they were out of the military, and maybe got married, and—you know, said, “I know where I want to go.” And they moved back to Florida.
Morris
Can’t blame them.
Clonts
Nope. It’s been happening ever since.
Morris
It has, sir. It has. It’s still, I think—it’s still known for its military bases being more preferable to work—train—here. Because you have some of them in Jacksonville, some still down in Tampa.
Clonts
Sure.
Morris
Yeah. Is there anything we haven’t covered, discussed today sir, that you wanted to make sure we got to?
Clonts
No, I didn’t have any agenda, and I don’t think I’ve done a very good interview. I think I’ve done a pretty average job at this.
I remember when fire ants had first gotten into Texas—because fire ants are not native to Florida—and, so fire ants in the mid-‘60s were getting into the state from the coastal states, but they had originally come in in Texas and then spread from there, and the [Douglas] DC-3 airplanes would fly on ant bait over the whole state. They would take a grid of eight miles by eight miles, and they would systematically fly at about three or four hundred feet high, dropping ant bait on a hundred percent of the ground surface.
Morris
Ant bait was ...
Clonts
Well, the ant bait was to try to kill fire ants that were coming into the state. Obviously was not successful.
Morris
Obviously. I didn’t even know they weren’t native to Florida. I just kind of figured they were native everywhere.
Clonts
No. [laughs] They seem like it now.
Morris
Yeah.
Clonts
You know, that’s something that I don’t think you’d see happen today. I mean, there’s new pests now coming into the state of Florida, but at the rate of two or three a year. And you know, we’ve got pythons in the Everglades—that the idea of trying to eradicate an insect like that once it’s got established in the state is probably never going to happen again.
Morris
Probably not, sir. Did that cause any kind of panic or worry with the farmers? If they took it seriously enough to be spraying the entire state to try to get out fire ants?
Clonts
Well, fire ants had been—fire ants are a pest, but you just learn to live with them. I mean, fire ants can kill a newborn calf if that calf gets born in the field, and the mother cow drops that calf in an ant pile. I mean, fire ants cause damage to livestock right now. They can kill a newborn calf, but that’s not a high rate of mortality, because it doesn’t happen too often, so it’s not something we try to eradicate anymore. But there was a time when there was a very organized war on fire ants.
Morris
Who organized this war?
Clonts
Well, it was at the request of citizens, but it was the government and Ag departments [Department of Agriculture], and so on.
Morris
Okay. When you say fire ants, you’re talking about the red ones? The black ones had already been here, correct? Or did they both come at the same time?
Clonts
There’s lots of species of native ants here, some of which bite and some which don’t.
Morris
Okay.
Clonts
But the fire ant is the one that, you know, when you step in the mound, you just get swarms of them.
Morris
Right. There’s one in my front yard.
Clonts
Yeah. I take those out every time I see one. I get the ant bait out and kill it. But I don’t try to eradicate them all over the state.
Morris
That would be a little extreme, wouldn’t it? But, is there anything else, sir?
Clonts
No.
Morris
All right, sir, this has been invaluable. I really appreciate it. Thank you for letting me come over and talk to you today.
Clonts
You bet.
Seminole County Centennial Celebration Collection, Seminole County Collection, RICHES of Central Florida.