Clark
Can you tighten up?
Panousis
Oh.
Pynn
Come on over Peter. Just from a standpoint of getting—we want to get pictures and video for the archives.
Lester
And can I do one thing before we start?
Pynn
Oh, no.
Panousis
Should I get this out of the way?
Lester
Best practices says that we need to get a—a release so that we can use this. So I am going to send this around.
Pynn
Doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.
Lester
Yes [laughs].
Pynn
And so while you guys are—are signing those, I mean, I just—I—I shared some of these questions with you earlier today but, [Dr.] Connie [L. Lester] is—is leading this effort in the—in the [University of Central Florida] History Department, and Jim Clark has been working very closely with her, and Bethany [Dickens] is—you’re a graduate student, right?
Dickens
Mmhmm. Yes, sir.
Pynn
And we’ve been on a—some months’ quest to review everything that we have in our archives about the [Florida High Tech] Corridor and—and how it evolved, but in a meeting that we had—I guess a couple of months back—both Connie and Jim said, “You know, it would really be helpful to have the anecdotal background. The opportunity to sit and—and talk with this team.” Because we had described how it all began and how you four worked together to make it happen, and so I volunteered that I—no. The first idea was that I was going to take everybody out to lunch. We didn’t get there [laughs], but it—it really would be helpful if you all could just think back a little bit before we get into any questions or any specifics. Think back to how this all began. Randy,[1] I think you probably picked up the ball and Kerry it from [Dr.] Pete[r T. Panousis]’s office to John [C. Hitt] and started the conversation, and maybe you—maybe you want to, Dan…
Berridge
We had…
Pynn
First, I can’t remember.
Berridge
We had a council of some 25 division heads of AT&T [Inc.] representing about 6,000 employees. I had the smallest division, and I was the oldest and the dumbest, so I got to chair the thing [laughs], and tried for 12 years to pass that gavel on to someone else—unsuccessfully.
In [19]95, Peter and Peter’s associate, Bob Cook, had shared that there was a major expansion that was going to happen to their semi-conductor manufacturing operation, then located on the south side of Orlando[, Florida], and it had the potential of being up to 1.4 billion and 1,500 jobs. Normally, that kind of operation gets most people’s attention, but the concern was that the expansion, at the time, looked like it was going to happen offshore, based on incentives that were ladled to the tune of $90 million. Payable in two years, and what we had in Florida at the time—thanks to some research that Charlie Gray, founder of the Gray-Robinson Law Firm—and—and I had the pleasure of helping with—was that Florida had about 6 million [dollars] payable over seven years, and so, with Charlie’s help, we negotiated another 6 million, also payable over seven years. So those of you who are really good at net present value calculations: if you had 90 million incentives payable over 2 versus 12 payable over seven, I think I am pretty sure which—which one you would pick.
We had several things going for us. We had a great management team that didn’t necessarily—didn’t want to move to Madrid[, Spain]. We had a facility that was built three times larger in the early 80s than needed at that time that we could readily expand into, but more importantly, we had a research capability provided by UCF [University of Central Florida] and USF [University of South Florida] that was not available offshore.
And so one day on the golf course—Roger [Prynn], you were there—we shared with John that we are fighting a potentially losing battle regarding this facility and, John, you said, “Well what—what do you need? What do you—what do you have the potential of having here that you don’t have offshore?” And we replied, “A research commitment that UCF and its professors and USF and its—have been providing for quite some time.” So John, you checked with Betty Castor, then-president of USF and came back with a commitment of $20 million, payable over 10 years—1 million per year, per school—of real asset. Not something where we would try to figure out what it was, but a real asset and that made the difference. Peter, why don’t you…
Panousis
Let me add a little bit to the first part. The—the opportunity to move to Spain—the Spanish government providing the—the extra money—may have been appealing to some people, but it wasn’t to me [laughs], and it also wasn’t to a group of 100 engineers we had moved from New Jersey and Pennsylvania to Florida just six months before that, and so we really, really wanted to find some way to stay in Florida. We liked the facility, we liked living here, and we certainly didn’t want to move again, and we weren’t quite also all that sure about what would happen if we moved to Spain, just because I could feel the boat rocking, and so, when the opportunity to—came up to find alternatives, we jumped at those opportunities, because they were important to us, as I believe they would have been to the State of Florida, and so we’re—we are in the right mood for that kind of operation.
And the thing that made a difference is—I think Randy talked about the money. You looked at the money that was on the table, and if—if it was just money, you go to Spain. You wouldn’t—you wouldn’t come here, but what was being offered and what we worked out after a while with the—with the universities was an opportunity to couple in to two universities—two large universities—and—and connect to the research base in a way that we could never have been able do in Spain, and we really were a very high-tech company. We were leading edge in the semi-conductor field. So having that kind of support was worth a lot of money, and so it became—it became an easier sell when we could go back to the board of directors and say, “Look what we can do here,” compared to “what we can do there,” and—and it worked.
Pynn
So what was the—what was the process, Dan, that took it to the [Florida State] Legislature? Took it to the next step and actually resulted in the creation of the entity?
Holsenbeck
Well, as the mathematics, that Randy explained, boil down to a million dollars a year for each of the institutions to offset the million dollars a year worth of research. Whether that was in-kind or actually whatever it might have been, it had a value of about a million dollars, and so, our charge by the president was to try to find, you know, additional cash from the Legislature to make that happen.
So my colleague, who has since retired at USF, Kathy Betancourt and I started to work together on a strategy to simply to get a million dollar earmark. We didn’t think we could get a million apiece, but we thought we could get a million total. So our first visit was to [Antoinette] “Toni” Jennings, who was President of the [Florida] Senate and—from here, and we proposed to her a million dollars, and she said, “A million is too much. Seven figures is difficult for the Legislature to absorb right now. I don’t think we’d even talk about it. Anything less than that for a major project …”
But anyway, she said, “Why don’t you settle on something a little bit lower? How about 850 [thousand]?” And of course, Kathy and I said, “Yes, ma’am. 850 is fine,” and actually, Toni was not president of the Senate at that time…
Hitt
She was Chairman of the [Committee on] Rules…
Holsenbeck
She was Chairman of the Rules, exactly. About to be President of the Senate, and so she sent us down to—to see the Chairman of [Committee on] Appropriations at that point, who was the infamous Senator Tilders. I don’t make a personality judgment by saying “infamous,” but he was famous in some ways and not so famous in others probably, but Kathy and I went to visit with him and he said, “Did Senator Jennings approve of this and ask for this?” And we both said, “Yes, sir,” and his response, which I’ll never forget, was, “Whatever that young lady wants, I’ll give her.”
Berridge
[laughs] Young lady…
HolsenbeckSo the Senate was going to put $850,000 in the budget. The second part of that—and the president was a witness to it—I probably ought to let a witness tell a truth rather than me embellish the story.
Hitt
Oh, I’m eager to hear it.
Holsenbeck
All right, but…
Pynn
Y’all have already heard some revisionist history so far [laughs].
Holsenbeck
But our next step was to go to the [Florida] House [of Representatives] because we had a commitment from the powers in the Senate, and there are lots of other commitments too in the Senate. [John Hugh] “Buddy” Dyer, for example. I mean, Buddy was, at the time, one of the leading Democratic [Party] Senators. I think he was later majority—I mean minority leader, but we had his full support from the very beginning. So Senator Jennings knew that she—with her support and with the minority leader’s support—because you were in Buddy Dyer’s district at the time—that was pretty good.
But we had to cultivate the House, and that’s the way those things do, you have to go back and forth. So Representative Alzo [J.] Reddick happened to be Chairman in a Democratically-controlled House of the Committee on Transportation and Economic Development Funding at the time. So the president and I went to visit him and talk through the project and so forth, and ask him for a million dollars, and he said, “I’ll do it,” and then he calls his staff director in from around the corner—I forget what his name was—and the staff director comes in and Alzo says, “I want a million dollars in the budget for this project,” and he says, “Well, what is it and what will—will he do?” And that’s the source of the tale that whatever it is I had in my pocket.
Hitt
It was an envelope, as I recall.
Holsenbeck
Yeah. I just wrote down, “Million dollars for UCF, USF, and AT&T to grow, retain, and attract high technology industry to the I[nterstate]-4 High Technology Corridor,” and we handed that to the staff director, and that’s how it came out in the bill, and that’s what the source is of that original language. Now you got a million dollars in the House, and 850 in the Senate. Guess what happens when you go to [U.S.] Congress? Randy gets $925,000, and that’s where the original appropriation came from, and it was also funded through Enterprise Florida—which a lot of people forget—which created some interesting situations later on.
Pynn
Had we created Enterprise at that point? I didn’t realize that.
Holsenbeck
Mmhmm.
Berridge
About the same time.
Panousis
Let me—let me add a little to that, because there’s a piece that I think you might find interesting. I still remember the very first meeting we had. I met John and Betty Castor and the airport and we went to see Charlie [Bass] Reed, and I didn’t know any of them at the time. We all met for the first time and Charlie Reed was the [State University System of Florida] Chancellor of Education at the time, and—and basically I wanted to—all I was there for was to get some money out of the—out of the universities. I wanted $10 million. He—after he stopped laughing, said, “No. don’t you understand? Companies give us your money. We don’t give them money.” [laughs] And we had a discussion about that, but after—after we were done and John—that’s where John showed, at least for me, the very first picture of High-Tech Corridor —the lights along the two coasts…
Berridge
It’s there. Right there.
Pynn
That middle thing there.
Panousis
I remember him showing that, and describing the way—at that time it was—it was Dallas[, Texas] and…
Hitt
Dallas and Fort Worth[, Texas].
Panousis
And Fort Worth. Growing together and—that’s the picture he had, and—and in that discussion, I think Charlie Reed sort of bought into it pretty—pretty well.
Hitt
Yeah.
Panousis
And as—at the end of the meeting he said, “Look. I don’t know how to do this.” But—but we shook hands and he said, “I’ll find a way,” and I think what you described was the way.
Pynn
The way.
Berridge
I think you need to share—since you shared it with the board of governors and your fellow presidents—the idea—the corridor coming to you…
Hitt
Oh, yeah.
Berridge
In the shower, you know?
Pynn
It drives Dan [Holsenbeck] crazy to hear this story. Thanks Randy [laughs].
Hitt
Well, Dan will get over it [laughs].
Pynn
We all take showers, Dan.
Holsenbeck
I—I know. I know.
Berridge
Your historians are wondering what’s coming.
Hitt
I know. Well, early in my time here, I had driven pretty much coast to coast to the center part of the state, and, you could see along I-4 infill of population, and I’d watched that process take place in my native state of Texas, between Dallas and Fort Worth. When I was a boy, you could see, you know, area between them was ranch land, there were a lot of cattle grazing along the side of the highway. You know, it was really a rural environment. Well, by the time I left Texas in—in ‘77, they had pretty well grown together, and if you’re—if you’ve driven along it in—in the last 20 years or so, you know, it’s—it’s one big, continuous metropolitan area now, but, you know, it occurred to me pretty strongly there—there are thousands and thousands and thousands of people who are moving in, and a lot of them settle right along that corridor, that, you know, essentially goes from the Tampa Bay area to—to the—the Daytona [Beach] area. But, you know, it sort of spills down towards the Space Coast as well, and the question in my mind is what kind of jobs are they going to have? Now, we’ve got a great hospitality industry here in—in Central Florida and, you know, it—it is the backbone of our economy in this—in—in this part of our state. Really for our whole state, but if you think about the—the distribution of pay for the jobs that they’ve got, it’s biased towards lower in—income employment. Now all jobs are good jobs. You think about it, there’s—if the alternative is unemployment, just about any job’s a good job, but, it—it just occurred to me that, if we really are going to have the kind of jobs we want our kids and grandkids to have, it would be really helpful if you could find a way to bring in more high tech industry, and it seemed to me that we had a good chance with two large state institutions, each of which had a strong engineering program, a strong business program, the—the natural laboratory sciences to support research and development. We really could have a—a guiding effect, if you will, on the development of the economy, and I had proposed to—to Betty Castor, before Peter came on the—on the scene, that we try and put together a cooperative endeavor and get some state funding for it, and—and Betty just had too many other things on her plate at that time, you know. She didn’t really respond all that favorably, you know, and I—you know, I didn’t take that as a bad thing. I figured, Well, we’ve got time—time. We’ll win her over soon or later on this. It’s a good idea, and we just went on.
Well then, Pete’s opportunity challenge presented itself, and I think what you saw was the value of a good organizing concept. It—it—there’s nothing all that overpowering about the idea. It’s just—it’s—it’s just sort of an observation. Gee, Dallas and Fort Worth grew together, I think I see the same kind of process beginning here in—in Central Florida. Isn’t that interesting? Well, then you think about two universities, and well, Maybe we could have an influence on what kind of jobs get developed, maybe we could raise the—the prospects for high tech industry, and then, guess what? We get a really high tech industry who is wanting our help, and we were able to get enough people excited about the possibility to really do something, and—I—I’ve said repeatedly, with—without the opportunity to work with Peter, all we’ve got’s kind of an interesting idea. You know, better than no idea at all, but it probably would have come to very little if we hadn’t had a—large-scale employer in a high tech business who really wanted and needed our help. You know, I think wanted more than needed. You would have gone somewhere, you know. You would have gone to Spain or somewhere else without us, but, you know, you wanted our help, and sometimes wanting something is every bit an important or more than needing.
So we were able to put together an idea, and Dan’s memory is just as mine—we had it, you know—it was the focus right then when we were at Alzo’s outer office—was retention. We had the foresight to put—attract, grow, and retain in that bill, and that is indeed what let us go from this one instance to a general operation that recruits, grows and, we hope, retains high tech industry. It—it’s been a very interesting thing to watch—and you know—and without—without Peter, you don’t have much. Without Dan’s skills in the Legislature we don’t have much and without Randy’s determined leadership—and excellent leadership over the years—we probably wouldn’t have nearly what we have.
Berridge
That’s very kind.
Hitt
So it pays to take showers, you know? [laughs].
Panousis
It was—it was—a very unique partnership. I had—I had a lot of years at AT&T and we had lots of partnerships with companies in the universities, but generally they were—they were designed for very specific application, and generally they were tense, because the other companies are competitors and the universities really did what Charlie Reed said, “Give me the money and I’ll give it back, with 200, half the time,” and what was happening in this relationship is—is right from the beginning. in fact, the legislation you put together called out that this was a partnership, that there were certain rights that the company—AT&T had—to the intellectual property, which was truly unique.
Hitt
Mmhmm.
Panousis
And—and it made a big difference, because now we could get research support from two universities and we didn’t have to give up the intellectual property that was generated in the process of doing them, and that was really, a big—and big deal, and I—I still remember telling other people about that and they wouldn’t believe it. They said, “It couldn’t be, couldn’t be, couldn’t be.” In fact, some other universities said it was illegal, even though it was in the legislation [laughs].
Hitt
Yeah, well, one university very distinctly [laughs].
Pynn
Pete, I can remember you saying back then that you had—we were sitting together at the plant one day—you’d never had relationships with universities like this. This is unheard of.
Hitt
Well, a prevailing model at universities was that the industrial partner ought to throw money over a transom and come back in several years to hear what the university had done with it.
Pynn
Well, let’s not preclude that.
Hitt
And feel suitably proud, you know? Guess what, you know? When money is not terribly plentiful, the enthusiasm for that gets pretty darn scarce and the other—the other side is the intellectual property side. The university still does well out of this—and when you get to these partnerships, you know, my sense is that most universities want to control 100 percent and they end up with something about this big, and they think that’s better than having 20 percent of something this big, and I’ve never quite seen that point of view get you anywhere.
Panousis
And it’s interesting. In all the time we worked together, I can’t think of any single case where we had a serious disagreement about intellectual property. It just wasn’t that big of a deal. The people—people are paranoid about it.
Hitt
Yeah, it’s a principle, you know?
Panousis
It’s a principle. It’s a principle.
Berridge
I’ve had the pleasure of approving 12—more than 1,200 research projects. Dan, more than half of those with UCF. My—my case with UCF, USF, and UF. I can count on the digits—less than the digits on one hand—the projects we did not get to because of an issue over intellectual property, and when you—when you share that with an audience that—that has this perception that there’s going to be an issue, and you share well—wait a minute. We’ve done 1,200 of them with 400 companies, where we’ve put up over 56 million [dollars] to fund those projects—from Carter funds at UCF, USF, and UF, and we have more than 160 million [dollars] in corporate cash and in-kind at the time we do the project and more than a billion on top of that in downstream return to the university—to the companies, and yet in—in—in going on—about to finish 16 years, we have had really not had an issue on intellectual property, because the companies see it—that—well, this is unique. Our hometown university wants to help us. They’re not asking for the money back. Where is the value? And the value is the partnership with the company that creates more jobs, creates more intellectual value, and by the way—we’ve got an outside, investigator/researcher that’s showed there’s more than a billion returned to our local economy from—from this program.
Holsenbeck
Yeah, let me—let me just say that Randy had an awful lot to do with those languages and that we were able to translate into legislation, and the actual legislation that you’re talking about Peter, where that language about the IP was? Was part of the matching tax exception—matching grant program? And I always thought that pulling that off as a collective effort —taking advantage of really the goodwill of the company—the essence of that bill said that the Legislature would put aside another package of incentive moneys—not just the money that we were operating the Carter on the doing research with—but they put aside another pot of money that if Cirent[?] would take the tax-exemption that they were given under the incentive laws. That if they would take the taxes, they would have paid and send it over to the university, the State would match it out of that fund. So all of a sudden, both institutions were able to do really big things at once like our materials lab.
Hitt
Yeah.
Holsenbeck
That’s where out materials lab—to this day, seems one of the best in the southeast, maybe in the country—comes from.
Pynn
AMPAC [Advanced Materials Processing and Analysis Center].
Holsenbeck
That’s right. That’s where…
Berridge
AMPAC.
Holsenbeck
That’s where USF’s—what’s it called? Center of Metrology?
Pynn
Center for…
Berridge
Center for Materials Research. Sam R., I think. Center for Materials Research.
Holsenbeck
So that was another, part of that whole deal—the tax-exempt matching grants that’s kind of gone away, because they don’t have any money to match it with anymore, but I always thought that was a—one year—in one of the later years, the Legislature decided to sweep together everything that they were funding for the High-Tech Corridor, because they all wanted to take credit for a big deal. So when they pulled together all the operational funds and showed the tax-exempt matching, there’s a line—and I forget what year in the budget—that shows something like 25-26 billion dollars. Charlie’s in California. So I cut that out, sent it to him, and said, “Charlie, if you’ve ever seen a bigger turkey in Florida, I want you to let me know.” [laughs] And he wrote me back and he said, “Nope. That’s got to be it.” It was a $25 million line-item in the budget that pulled all that stuff together one year.
Berridge
Help with the name—is it The Chronicle of Higher Education?
Holsenbeck
Yeah.
Berridge
Is that the right term? I believe both of you about the same time shared with me an article that our friend Charlie Reed crafted that appeared in there, where he took credit for the Corridor and—and explained his version of what it’s all about, and it’s—that’s pretty special, knowing where it came from.
Holsenbeck
Can I tell you one more quick[sic] story about Charlie? The first year was 950,000 and then it jumped a little bit and—we were looking for—in one of the years, we were looking for—I think it was another million and a half for each of us, and we wound up getting 1.7 million and USF got 1.5. So we’re down in the committee room where they are about to vote on it and make the decision. By the way, the Chairman of the Appropriations Committee, making this happen, under Speaker Dan[iel Allan] Webster, is Orange County School Superintendent—no. School Board Chairman Bill Sublette—he’s the Chairman of that committee.
Pynn
That’s right. I forgot that.
Hitt
That’s right. Yeah.
Holsenbeck
So Charlie comes up to us, with Kathy and me with his entourage—which is not unusual for Charlie—comes blustering and says, “I just took care of it. We’ve taken care of everything. You’re going to get a million and a half,” and Kathy and I looked at each other and said, “Charlie, you mean—million and a half each?” And he said, “Oh, no, no, no. just a million and a half.” I said, “Charlie, the bill’s about to come out. It’s a million and a half each,” and there was a five million appropriation for research, so we were going to get basically two-thirds of that money or—or close to it, and Charlie did not speak to Kathy and me for a couple of weeks after that [laughs].
Pynn
It’s not nice to tell the Chancellor he’s wrong.
Berridge
By the way, the original funding—9—925—the original funding, UCF got 300 for corridor funds—corridor projects. USF got 300 and AT&T got 325. Ask him if he ever took the money.
Lester
Did you?
Panousis
Nope.
Berridge
No recurrent funding invested back in the corridor.
Panousis
We—we…
Pynn
Used it to run this Corridor center.
Berridge
Sixteen—privacy of this room—for 16 years, we’ve invested that money back into the corridor to help market the region as a high-tech region. That’s pretty special.
Panousis
The thing we—we needed from universities was the research.
Hitt
Mmhmm.
Panousis
We didn’t need the money. I mean, the money’s nice. We would have taken it, but if you, you know—if you think of the numbers just over the whole period time, we spent a little over a billion dollars. We were exempted, most of that time, for the 6 percent sales tax. That’s 60 million dollars. By giving up fairly significant piece of that—almost all of that—to the university that was doubled by the State to close to 120 million dollars that was shared between the two universities. That’s a lot of money. I still remember the time we were sitting there thinking about how to spend it [laughs]. That was tough to do.
Berridge
The results of that effort—not only the great research projects and the marketing comes to us by the way of Roger Pynn and Kerry Martine. It’s interesting when an organization outside of our state shares nationally the top technology regions in the country based on information from January of 2012 to August 2012, and I know if I were a better teacher or instructor, I’d have a better show and tell graph. I gave a speech this morning out at its—its—and I did the same thing to the audience, it—even the first row couldn’t see it, but what it portrays is…
Pynn
Randy, we prepare you better than that. Don’t you ever do that again [laughs].
Berridge
What is portrays is the top regions in the country, and we’re number four, ahead of the Research Triangle and ahead of—of Austin[, Texas], and—and the major one is the number of high-tech job openings. A positive statement that our region —we’d like to have top talent come here as well as graduate from here. So it says Florida High-Tech Corridor.
Hitt
That’s neat.
Holsenbeck
That’s certainly a manifestation of grow, retain, and attract.
Pynn
And Dan—when—when you were going through that review of the expansion of the state funding, since it’s a history project—I’m not sure, Connie, that we have been able to—and if we have, Kerry [Martine] can take credit for it—accurately give you a timeline of the progression of the funding. I think it would be very helpful to have. Maybe we can work with someone.
Holsenbeck
We have it. We—it’s—we had to go through digging it out, But yeah. We can show you the bills and the amount of money each time.
Pynn
So you see, it wasn’t just a one-time thing. We—if it had just been for the initial bill, that provided people that the research they needed, we’d have been a one-hit wonder and this would—none of us would be here today, but this was about the evolution of partnerships, and—and—and John realized very quickly afterward, we had something here. Once he pulled it off with AT&T, he says, “Hey, you know, we’ve got a good deal here. We can help other people,” and that led to the MGRP. The idea that we can create research projects on an ongoing basis. Bringing companies on campus to do it, and—and having them kick the tires of young students—as their graduate students, as their research partners. Just to—just to…
Berridge
Give M. J. Soileau some credit for helping devise the program.
Pynn
True.
Berridge
And working with the folks at USF in making sure the programs mirrored each other.
Hitt
Yeah, it’s been interesting watching all that, you know, even with M. J. The first response is, “How do I get part of that money?” [laughs]. “How do I—how do I get my share—my fair share of the money?” And then it evolves. You see people start to understand, “Oh, there is no share—fair share. It’s all money that’s there for a purpose.” “How do I get to be part of the purpose?” is really the—the question to ask, and if you—if you—I think if you conceive of it properly, it’s money that attracts business leaders to the campus and incents faculty members to work with them.
The big complaint you still hear today is, “How do I get the faculty to work with industry?” Or “How do I get industry to work with faculty?” Well, you put some money on the table to do good things and you—you—you get a little entrepreneurial interest. Which is what we’ve done, and Pete, you’re, you know—you—without you in all of this, I don’t think we’re celebrating anything today, but that’s basically, you know, between the Legislature and Dan’s good influence there, and the leadership we’ve had from Peter and Randy. We—we’ve created a self-perpetuating cycle at this point. Virtuous cycle.
Berridge
This is a small world we live in. What are the odds that we’d have this conversation today, and the new VP[Vice President] of Engagement[2] at FIU [Florida International University] wanted to set a meeting and the only time we could do it was before this meeting, and her predecessor was promoted to Provost in Virginia, and so Mark [B.] Rosenberg lost his focal point of cloning our corridor in his end of the state.
Hitt
Mmhmm.
Berridge
So the new person is on board, and the only time we can meet is right before this meeting, and she said, “I apologize. I know you’ve been through this. I know you’ve come down here to meet, but we’re basically starting over would you”—Roger’s about to die—“would you mind sharing with me again all about the corridor? How you got started? How you’ve done? What you’ve done?” And I said “Well, thank you. You’re getting me—getting me warmed up for a meeting with President Hitt, Peter Panousis, and the rest of the team.” I said that it’s going to take more than a half an hour to explain the length and breadth of what we’ve—what we’ve done. So honored by the compliment again from Mark Rosenberg that he still wants to figure out how to make it happen.
Hitt
Yeah.
Pynn
And that’s one of the questions that Connie’s had is, “Can this be exported to this equation?”
Hitt
Yes, it can be, but you need to have a good understanding of the model and you gotta have to have a…
Pynn
Peter. You’ve got to have a Peter.
Hitt
A business leader. Yeah. Otherwise, you—you can write it all up and everything…
Berridge
We’ve suggested to Mark, you know, a couple of companies down there that could be—could be the patron that—that Dr. Panousis and Sarah McGeer was to us.
Panousis
You know what’s curious is in Silicon Valley, the normal sense of business is that they deal with universities. That’s just what you do, particularly with Stanford [University] and other universities. It might not be…
Hitt
Guess why? It works. Fred Turner.
Panousis
It works. Yeah, that’s right. That’s right.
Hitt
Fred—as a young man I was vice-president of the TCU [Texas Christian University] research foundation and he served on our advisory council, and I got to sit and listen to Fred talk about how—he didn’t phrase it this way—but he started Silicon Valley. He came back after World War II, he had seen [Massachusetts State] Route 128 outside Boston[, Massachusetts], he—he knew what had happened there, and he said, “We could do that here,” and he proceeded to do it. He was then Dean of Engineering at Stanford, became Provost and—and really, I think it is—I think if you had to pick some sort of high-tech industrial heroes, Fred would be right up at the head of the pack.
Panousis
So there must be some in South Florida.
Hitt
Yeah.
Panousis
You know, there have to be. Man, they just need to be found [laughs].
Lester
Can I ask a question a question about that? Do you see the High-Tech Corridor as being more similar to Silicon Valley? Or what—what has it added to the—to the growth of the high tech industry that’s different from Silicon Valley?
Hitt
That’s a good question. I don’t know the inside of Silicon Valley well enough probably to answer —to answer—to answer in a well-informed way. Pete, what—do you?
Panousis
I think that—and I don’t know if I have an answer, but—but I think what happened there is they got to a critical mass that we never quite have gotten to.
Hitt
Yeah, yeah.
Panousis
And there were so many companies doing the same kind of work that people were just spilling out of each, setting up additional companies, and every new idea was a new company, and it just got to a level where it was just running by itself. Now we’ve got to that point. Or haven’t gotten to that point.
Hitt
We may have more self-conscious direction at the university level. It may have become just auto-catalytic at Stanford, because of that process you’re talking about. We’ve taken a view that really says that the university is the agency that will help this happen in—in—in the region, and maybe I’m not expressing it well, but I think we—we have tried to see the university—the—the—the metropolitan research university as the equivalent of the land-grant university—the 21st century equivalent of the land grant. Where we combine the generation transmission application of knowledge, and it’s a social agency, if you will, that—that helps companies.
Berridge
John, your leadership—UCF’s leaderships and its partners—Medical City is going to be, in my humble opinion, the catalyst that’s going to give us—give us that next boost in terms of comparing our corridor—our region—to Silicon Valley. If you reference the facts that we shook our heads when we said, right after World War II—after World War II—having been there, like a couple of people in this room, but very young—look at the time span, and yet, UCF is now celebrating its 50th, we’re celebrating our 16th as a—as a corridor. We have a lot of room to grow, and despite all the issues in terms of Florida Poly[technic University]—when they call us—Rob Goddell and team called and asked for help in terms of focus, as you and I discussed—to—to give them some ideas in terms of what they are going to focus on in terms of a curriculum. That’s pretty special, but it’s part of this continuum of our region catching up with—maybe even surpassing—Silicon Valley. The university is still—if you notice, the university is still centering to that happening.
Holsenbeck
The—it seems to me that one of the—well, I think it’s—there are two very strong forces at work here that you’ve got to—have to—even think about duplicating anywhere, and we all travel and we all have got our canned speeches on the High-Tech Corridor, and what it means, and, you know, the advantages of it, but there are two things that the High-Tech Corridor has proven, and both of those are related to one word, and that’s “partnership.”
First of all, it’s just a spirit of partnership. It’s mutually beneficial. We’re willing to put on the table and sacrifice a little bit—or “comprise” maybe is a better word. You do the same thing and we’re both just going to just flourish after that, and then the second part of it is—to reinforce what we’ve said—is that I don’t think you can just be given some money. Other places in the state have tried to get an appropriation. They’ve said they couldn’t do it, okay? What they’ve got to have though, again, is this, again, spirit of partnership from a very large organization, or at least relatively large, so you can have an anchor and tie.
Let me—let me do one more. I can’t help the opportunity for these political—but taking the word “partnership,” okay? The High-Tech Corridor created something in the Legislature that has never, ever happened. Not before and definitely not—not since, according to what I’ve been told. The second year of the funding, the money was eliminated at some point during the process, and we have to earmark it out of the budget. So we asked two people to sponsor the amendment to add it back on the floor during the final debates of the bills, okay? Way over here on the left side, one of the most loyal Democrats of all time, is Rep[resentative] Alzo Reddick, and way over here on the right side—so far right that he told me one day that Dan introduces me on the right side of the stage, I’m so far right he thinks I’ll fall off—that person was [Thomas] “Tom” [Charles] Feeney [III], who was going to be Speaker of the House. So in front of the entire legislative body, outspoken Democrat, outspoken conservative Republican, stand together and offer an amendment to do this. There was not a single negative vote that I recall, and it was the spirit of partnership that has permeated this project all the way through, which I think has made it successful.
Hitt
Yeah, support for the university, for the community.
Holsenbeck
Yeah.
Hitt
An effort to—to work together to build something.
Holsenbeck
And until the medical school came along, and probably now—I’ve always used in my conversations that, you know, the High-Tech Corridor is the perfect example of what John Hitt means about being America’s leading partnership university.
Lester
Did the fact that the Corridor existed and had been so successful—was that instrumental in helping to bring high tech industry, or laying the foundations for…
Hitt
I don’t know. Certainly the successful experience lent credibility to the university and our administration. I don’t know that people drew—the people who were making the decisions—I don’t know that they drew lessons from the corridor operation, but the fact that we had done it and it was successful probably helped.
Holsenbeck
Well, I—he—he’s being modest, because I know in some of the conversations we had on the medical school in the Legislature that I had—and I can name three or four of them—very powerful members—to say—if John Hitt says that this is good and it’s going to work and it’s a partnership, then that’s all I need, and that’s the truth. One of them had two children to graduate from here, so I’m not making those names up, but I think it did have maybe more then you want to give it credit for is this spirit of partnership that we’re known for.
Pynn
It was certainly a track record by that time.
Holsenbeck
Oh, yeah.
Pynn
And I don’t think there’s been a person in the [Florida] Governor’s Mansion since this happened who hasn’t wanted to point to the Corridor in some way or another at the start of every year.
Holsenbeck
Mmhmm.
Hitt
Mmhmm. The disappointment that I think we all share to some extent is that is hasn’t been replicated elsewhere yet. There have been attempts.
Pynn
Right. It’s good to hear they’re still committed to it, Randy, and we need to offer to—to give them what help we can.
Hitt
Yeah, but, you know, part of the problem is you’ve really got to have industry. You’ve got—and you’ve got to be able to attract industry into it. So, you know, people will say the “I-4 Corridor.” Well, why don’t we have an “I-10 Corridor” or whatever, you know. Well, if all you’ve got’s a highway, you know, you’re not really—you’re not going to do this, and—and it’s still the case that some people think if they can just got an appropriation, they can have something. Well, they’d have the money, but that alone would not give them what they’re looking for if they’re trying to replicate the corridor. You’ve got to have—you’ve got to have that employer who’s really committed, and you do have to have a critical mass of administration and faculty who understand partnership. And, you know, I think there’s still too many people in universities who just want to be given money to go do what they want to do. That’s nice, and, you know, we’ll all take that, but it’s—it’s not going to give you—an organization like the corridor.
Panousis
You know, the partnership between the universities was also important—now three in the partnership. Yeah. I still remember a meeting—I was trying to recall what the background for it was—but Governor Lawton [Mainor] Chiles[, Jr.] was at the meeting so it must have been ’90…
Berridge
’96?
Panousis
’96-’97, and we had just come from one of our customers, making the PalmPilot at the time, and we did something for them special, and we invited him to come to the meeting. He did, and I remember in his presentation, he made a comment that I thought was really interesting. He says he’s never seen two universities actually work together like the two—those two—UCF and USF.
Pynn
There’s no question.
Panousis
And it was really interesting, because he—he was amazed that it could happen. I didn’t know any better, so I assumed it could happen [laughs].
Berridge
An example of the partnership—and I’ll share with you—Kerry Martine provided that. Gentleman pictured there—in ’99, we partnered with—very small company. He now has a billion-dollar drug. He now also is the new VP of Research [& Innovation][3] at USF, and in the first meeting with him, he said, “If we have an incubator company that wants to locate in Orlando, is there any reason we couldn’t figure out how to locate them in M. J. Soileau and Tom O’Neal’s incubator at UCF?” And I’m sitting there going, “Ah.” [laughs] What a burden has been lifted in terms of—this is a prime example of partnership that he would reach out.
Hitt
Mmhmm.
Berridge
And I said, “Not that I’m aware of,” and he said, “You think they would agree that, if they have a company in—in their incubator that would want to move to Tampa, that it would be okay if we housed ’em?” And I said, “I think we can make that happen.”
Pynn
Now, what son of a Mississippian says…
Berridge
Yeah, son of a Mississippian. So there’s—Dr. Paul Sanberg, and thanks to Kerry Martine, who’s going to give that to me by email, I’m going to send that to Paul and say, “There’s a picture of you from the late ‘90s you might like to have for your file.” A good partnership.
Pynn
They had been doing anything they could to prevent them to leave, and so would we 20 years ago. You know, we hadn’t quite gotten to that point. I think the—the mantra of leader: leave your ego at the door. The idea that whatever can benefit Tampa, can benefit Orlando, and vice versa, has been such a powerful philosophy. People have gone out of their way—you like to tell the story of Lynda—thinking over in Brevard County…
Holsenbeck
Weatherman.
Berridge
Weatherman.
Pynn
The Economic Development Director over there, risking probably, at the time, her—her job to put was it 500 or 5,000 dollars into a sponsorship of an event that was going to take place in Tampa?
Berridge
5,000.
Pynn
5,000. People were thinking, Was she crazy?
Berridge
We indicated we would help her with something downstream. That was understood, but yeah, that she was willing to do that.
Pynn
She understood that she might benefit down the road from it. We…
Hitt
Yeah, that whole notion that a win anywhere in the corridor in a win for everybody is hard to…
Berridge
We called Dr. Paul Sanberg, who’s a very respected scientist—founder of the National Academy of Inventors, and we have a project we’re working on that is very large in scope—almost as large as one of Peter’s projects—and we needed some initial funds to put on the table to get the company’s attention. So I called Paul and I said, “I know that our team is over about a week before this phone call to show support for a major project in the Tampa area, and so we have one, by coincidence, a small world. We have one a week late, as big as that one. If we can merge our matching funds at UCF and USF, we can make a better case,” and he said, “Make it happen. What are you putting on the table?” I said, “We’re going to make a commitment of 250,000 a year for five years, because of the size and scope and potential of this project.” He said, “You want to do the same thing from USF?” I said, “Yes, sir.” He said, “You know, it doesn’t matter where the graduates work, as long as they’re working here. So the fact that you’re going to give an opportunity for some of our USF students to partner with—you know, professors to partner with UCF on a project for a company that happens to be located in the eastern end of the Corridor, our students are going to be benefited, so make it happen.” That’s partnership in its, you know, 15-16 years in the making.
Holsenbeck
You know, there is another activity that a lot of folks don’t participate in or know much about—and I’ve always thought this was one of Randy’s brilliant creations—and that is what he called the “Core Team” and the Tuesday morning telephone calls. Every Tuesday morning, I’d say there are 25-35 people throughout the corridor who talk about what is going on in the corridor and by the end of that conversation—what reminded me was Lynda Weatherman—you have got Brevard County willing to go over to Tampa to participate with a Tampa Bay partnership. You have got 4-5 groups agreeing to come together to put money on the table to do a booth talking about the photonics industry and sending it to the west coast. You’re doing things that the state as a whole has not been able to get communities and EDCs [Economic Development Commissions] and workforce boards and all those things to do.
Pynn
We are doing things every Tuesday morning on that little pajama hotline that the state has never been able to do. It’s amazing to see the number…
Holsenbeck
Yeah.
Berridge
This is a 16-year document…
Lester
Yes, I have the whole box. Yes.
Pynn
She has—she has a box. She has Steve Burly’s collection of every single one of those.
Berridge
It’s an old AT&T thing. Peter and I learned years ago what is bolded in here, including the names of the people, as well as what is in there is what was covered the previous weeks. You know, who attended and what was discussed and it becomes the agenda for the next meeting so you can continue.
Lester
And I can tell you that is very helpful to a historian who is reading through this.
Pynn
You know, we need to get you in touch with Burly by the end of this, because the fact that he is collecting means he has got a lot of knowledge. The—what I can remember as an example of that is we achieved corridor-wide participation in the [International] Paris Air Show[4] on the telephone on a Tuesday morning. Had never happened.
Berridge
Because Lynda Weatherman wanted to do it.
Pynn
That is right. Payback.
Berridge
In Brevard—and so we got Tampa Bay saying, “Yeah. We will do that with you. We will be there with you, in terms of presence and money.”
Pynn
She helped those people earn over 5,000, and now we have an annual basis, participation to market this area’s aerospace.
Hitt
What a silver-tongued devil she is [laughs].
Berridge
She is. She chaired the Federal Reserve Board in Florida in Jacksonville—amongst her many talents. Also nationally, she’s a pretty sharp lady—chaired our workforce committee. What is unique is we start with this in ‘96-‘97—something like that—and we couldn’t get folks to attend, mainly our economic development partners, for a 4 o’clock call. So, once a decade, I am going, Why don’t I have it at 7:45 in the morning? They can’t claim they are out working, selling deals, and entertaining prospects as 7:45 on the morning. So half of the folks on there are on their drive time. We ask them to be on mute and make sure they drive carefully, but every Tuesday morning, unless it’s a holiday week—and Dan, you are on every one of them—7:45-8:15, and it is over at 8:15—and it’s over at 8:15, because everyone on there has a full-time job doing something else.
Pynn
A lot of spouses across this corridor who wonder what is going on a Tuesday morning, if you don’t have a call, what is happening? You are just sitting here drinking your coffee, reading the newspaper. You are supposed to be on the telephone.
Holsenbeck
You know, I still think Roger and you and I have talked about this, but just for the purposes of conversation—that is one example of a critical activity to the corridor that’s not as glamorous sounding as the matching research. There another one—there is a tech path program that is done with…
Berridge
Dr. Jeff Mendell? One of Peter’s top scientists?
Holsenbeck
Jeff Mendell, one of Peter’s guys who is now in our physics departments that does this, and now going all over the place trying to get the other institutions and school boards and schools to learn about what it is to be in high technology, and another one—the Florida Virtual Entrepreneur Center. I mean, people don’t—Roger, I just don’t think the average person or even the average politician realizes how those three parts of what we do—the core team and the partnerships, the tech path and the entrepreneurial center—what a key element they are, and there is nothing—nothing anywhere in the state comparable to those three activities.
Berridge
Hunt[ing F.] Deutsch is the head of the [Florida] Department of Economic Opportunity, and I am honored to have known him from the mid-80s, when my daughter worked for him in the trust department, when he had the trust affirmative for SunTrust [Bank]. They were going to have a business portal they were going to launch. They didn’t know what they were going to do but they were going to launch it—a bit reckless, and I said, well, “Howard, we already have one. It is called the Florida Virtual Entrepreneur Center.” “What does it do?” I explained to him what it does, and he said, “Why do we want to launch one of our own? Why don’t we just use yours and you will have a link and we will call it a state program?” And I said, “It is called a ‘Florida Virtual Entrepreneurial Center’ on purpose. It’s all 67 counties are up and running.”
Hitt
They didn’t know it.
Berridge
They didn’t know it, but they do now. They had a webinar earlier this week—explained the program, so if you are entrepreneur and want to start or grow a business that won’t cost you anything to use it, and every county is there. You just punch in a county. Roger showed them too. He’s better at show and tell than I am.
Pynn
This morning we got the monthly—a monthly report on the activity.
Berridge
Fourteen thousand.
Pynn
Last month, 13,629 visits for all 67 counties, and even though it was a holiday month, that is 3.6 percent—6.5—3.65 percent increase month over month, and out of state, 2,700 from out of state were checking in on that, and out of country, more than 500 people visited to find out what’s available, what’s going on in Florida, “How can I do business here?” It’s an amazing thing.it continues to grow. Kerry, what’s the month to month on that? It’s just amazing numbers.
Martine
Yeah, they have continued to grow since. Probably about 4,700.
Berridge
The addition of the other counties. Give Kerry Martine the credit, if you would, because when you see it that is her creativity.
Hitt
She is the walking history.
Pynn
Okay.
Berridge
Alright, and the other piece is—though its corridor funded. Doesn’t cost the entrepreneur to use it. Doesn’t cost—like Gray and Robinson, our attorneys—they can post that they are available help entrepreneurs and it doesn’t cost them anything to post. Now, if you would like a little better listing, thanks to Roger Prynn and Kerry Martine—or if you want to sponsor a section you can certainly do that. So when you think of Miami coming up with 10—excuse me—with $7,500, you think of Jacksonville, Duvall County, coming up with $7,500. So we raised about $85,000 last year, before we added all the other counties to offset the cost of what we’ve been putting in—in terms of the cost of people work it in on a daily basis. One of whom is a UCF graduate student named Michael Zaharris, who is an OPS [Other Personnel Services] employee reporting to Tom O’Neal. So again, it is a stateside program housed at UCF. Thank you, Dan.
Lester
I have to say that I think that kind of retaining and growing of businesses is perhaps one of the most important parts of this. I am a Southern historian and I look at the economy across the South, and most of what I see is buying jobs, not retaining them in the long run. I have been interviewed a couple of times by the Federal Reserve [Bank] in Atlanta[, Georgia], about some things I have written about that, and I always say that the South is missing the boat when they keep buying jobs.
Berridge
Your pride is our pride and getting a call from the economic development organization for Atlanta—the greater Atlanta area—looking to make a corridor from Atlanta and Athens[, Georgia], and they call and say, “How did you do it? What can we do? Can you clone it? Do you mind if we clone it?” And I said…
Pynn
And that is just one of them—one of many. We have had a lot of calls from around the country, from out of the country. I’ve heard Randy talking to people from Thailand.
Berridge
From Puerto Rico; the lead attorney for the [Colorado] House [of Representatives] and [Colorado] Senate from the State of Colorado; a co-ed from [Harvard University John F.] Kennedy School of Government wanting to start a high-tech region around Syracuse [University]; Yankton, South Dakota. Are you familiar with Yankton, South Dakota?
Lester
I am not [laughs].
Berridge
Well, I get this call from Charlie Gross—the then-mayor of Yankton. “We would like to start a high-tech corridor between South Dakota State [University] and University of South Dakota.” He said, “Roughly the same geography, two universities you had two to start. How did you do it? And what do you do?”
Pynn
A lot more cows than people.
Berridge
Yeah, and I spent three calls—total of six hours—keeping track of these things with Charlie Gross. I get a call from the Head of Economic Development for the Cherokee Nation—they wanted to—my boss is looking at me. Does he look at you like this?
Holsenbeck
All the time.
Berridge
All the time. He wanted to diversify their gambling establishment in this Cherokee, North Carolina. Okay? God bless him, and I said, great, and I said “Where do you live, by chance?” Because I know where the gambling establishment is—I never been there—but I know where it is, and he said, “Well I—you probably don’t know it—but I live south of [U.S. Route] 74 on [North Carolina State Road] 28,” and said, “Where?” And he told me, and I said, “Well, if you come about 6 miles further south and turn onto Trailing [Oak] Trail, that’d be where we have a place.” “No kidding?” So I struck up a friendship with a Head of Economic Development at the Cherokee…
Pynn
So Randy’s now a player at the Cherokee Casino.
Holsenbeck
Isn’t that a hoot?
Berridge
Yeah.
Pynn
Yeah, sure. Sure.
Hitt
Do you remember the old TV program Get Smart? Yeah, but do you remember the episode where they had the Indians who were—they had a nuclear-tipped arrow—coming out of a teepee?
Berridge
Out of a teepee?
Hitt
Yeah, yeah, and the woman, Smart, says “That is the third-biggest arrow I have ever seen.” [laughs].
Berridge
Too much.
Pynn
You know, you talk about—Connie, you talked about the path here versus buying jobs, and I know that one of the questions you said you were interested in exploring was the role played in the GrowFL[: The Economic Gardening Institute] program, the economic partnership program, and I think—Dan, that goes then along with the others you mentioned as—while there were folks that knew we were behind the kind of a catalyst to get that moving, they don’t realize just what it has done. There are a lot of companies out there that are really benefiting from the kind of counsel and advice they are getting to help them get to the next stage.
Berridge
That is the creativity of this university and Tom O’Neal, and convincing as he is to get Roger Pynn and yours truly, and Ray Galley and Amy Evancho to go to Cassopolis, Michigan.
Pynn
Cassopolis.
Berridge
In November, and then he doesn’t get to go. He is still here in the middle of November—to…
Pynn
He was the lucky one, as far as I was concerned
Berridge
Smarter guy. Well, he has a doctorate from here and an MBA [Master of Business Administration], what do you expect? Mrs. Lowe has this wonderful facility—of 2,600 acres that housed 14 farms, knob them together, we get all the farmhouses—she was staying in a nicely redone farmhouse—to you can stay in their center, and what they share is economic gardening in Littleton, Colorado. The experience that community has of losing a 10,000-employee Lockheed Martin plant, and they decided that never again would they be dependent on one facility for their livelihood. So they started by building their own, and so the orchestration of that is the platform for this GrowFL program. You need to ask how did Mr. Lowe made his millions? Kitty litter. Oh, oh, I should have let her answer. You know she has 2,600 acres around Arcadia, Florida? Special.
Lester
Yes.
Pynn
She is a cool lady. Very devoted to what we started.
Berridge
So the idea that we could bootstrap our own companies—and one of our own council members, George Gordon, went through it. Said after—in fact, we’ve used him—as you know, Dan—thanks to your leadership in the House and Senate to give testimony. He said, “Randy, not since my days at Annapolis[, Maryland] have I been grilled, and even there, as much as I was grilled by people who knew more about my business than I did.” As a way of taking another look at how you might be a better business person and make your company more profitable.
Pynn
You know, I went through the CEO round-table portion, and I was amazed to see folks who had very sophisticated companies. Particularly one of them has a company fella—has a company called Alinea. They are an Internet services commission. Brilliant guy, and he was eyes wide open in that process, sharing around the table the program is facilitating, and one day, he stopped in the middle of it, got up and left, because he had gotten the answer he needed. We didn’t see him for two months, until he had finished implementing it.
Berridge
It’s amazing when you can see what happens in our state. When our Governor,[5] who had received some poor advice last year, vetoed the program that we were told by his staff he was going to approve, and then, within two weeks of the veto in The Villages, was out in the state espousing the virtues of supporting small states, two companies. We need to do more of that, and so we had some folks whisper to his team to whisper in his ear, “You just vetoed the least expensive program in the state that has created the most jobs for the least amount of money,” and so we think that impetus, as well as some excellent work on Dan’s part and the team—two million? Two million in refunding this year. Corridor funded it, and then we get a call from Jennifer Thompson, who’d been told by [Orange County] Mayor [Teresa] Jacobs that they found some extra money in Orange County, and Jennifer didn’t want to invest in sidewalks. She wanted to invest in companies. I heard about this GrowFL program, and I’d like to learn more about it. Tom O’Neal took a meeting with her, made a friendship—$50,000. For a while, that $50,000 was happening. We, of course, went to the [Orange] County on the north to say to Randy Morris and his mentee, Bob Dallari, who is now chair of Seminole County—just reelected—that this is going to happen in Orange County. So Seminole County said, “Well, we want that too,” and they put in $50,000 to help this program, to match our $50,000 that we put in to keep it alive last year, and now, it is obviously going great guns this year, because the State has seen fit to invest in it. It is run out of UCF, but it’s a statewide program.
Holsenbeck
These things are good examples of what you can do with discretionary funds under enlightened leadership, and when people talk about—they want to reproduce the corridor or try to expand their operations or activities—we do have a foundation that nobody else in the state has. Nobody else in the state has been able to get or sustain. Randy gives you an example of how I think he very wisely has used a lot of these funds that uses them as incentives or matches or initial investments, but the truth of the matter is: without those dollars, he could not do that, and it is very hard for others to get that same hold. I don’t think today we could do that. With the current economic situation and the current political leadership. I don’t think we could do it.
Berridge
We’re a 501(c)(6) in the State of Florida with a fairly substantial budget by comparison. How many employees do we have? We are all consultants to the enterprise.
Hitt
Oh, I see.
Berridge
It is the most cost-effective way of running it. The idea that you would have a corporation set up to do these things, as we talked in ‘96—where does the money reside? It resides at the two universities. Well, three, because we have been able to get some one-time funding on occasion from UF, and hope to remedy that, and get David [P.] Norton, their new VP of Research—said it is their number 1 priority, and he is going to make sure Bernie says it is their number 1 priority to get recurring funding at UF for corridor funds, but the funds reside at the university, because if they transferred them to the corridor, a private corporation, you have a red flag. You have a target.
Oh, by the way, having a county organization at AT&T, here’s—excuse me—I have really good people that did it, and I kind of showed up. The county thinks it is an expense, but the university managing it through their existing processes—both in county and the auditing, the corridor doesn’t have to incur that expense; therefore, we can use more of our corridor funds to do the matching projects that Dan just talked about, but you know—see, I don’t trust there. We have been doing this—finishing 16 years. You are chronicling it. How many issues have we had over the spending of funds in that many years?
Holsenbeck
Except for your travel budget? Oh, excuse me [laughs].
Berridge
My travel budget. Saks takes me to Dallas later—later this week, and you are right. It’s been an experience.
Holsenbeck
We just…
Berridge
You told me. You tell them about that.
Hitt
He told me he wanted to come on a commission of colleges. I warned him, “Do you have any clue what you are getting into?”
Berridge
“You have a clue what you are getting into?” I said, “No, but I have got some real goods friends who can help.” The idea is that the university has trusted its volunteers, as well as consultants, as well as team members, to do the right thing, to spend the money in the correct fashion. The majority of the funds are spent on the matching grants project. People say, “You have an organization. It’s got what it does and so…” it is really like an “ad hoc-racy.” We come together, we address an issue, address the problem, put some resources to it. By the way, we thought we created that term—you are a historian—we found out. We did some checks. I think Roger did it—it was created—somebody came up with it in ’72.
Hitt
“Ad hoc-racy?”
Berridge
An ad hoc-racy.
Hitt
It was not a compliment.
Berridge
No, right, but we come together, address an issue, find some funds, get some other people who have some funds, do it, and move in.
Holsenbeck
We did. Randy and I in the last year requested an audit, because with all the things that keep popping out, they finished the audit, having given us a written report. There are no questions, not management statements, any negatives.
Berridge
She asked for a little more in terms of elaborating on why we are putting money into the GrowFL program, and I think we can fix that. So I got a hold up Fran Korosec, and said, “Fran, I need a little more information on the use of corridor funds.” Immediately fixed that.
Holsenbeck
I have to confess: I did not know it at the time. I would like to take credit for it, or give us credit for it, but using that term attract—attract implies recruiting public relations, advertisement things that you—a lot of things you can’t do with state-funded money, because the original appropriation has that word “attract” in it. Randy is exempted from some of the regulations. For instance, he can do things with state money that we can’t that relate to meetings and conferences. I wish we could say we were that smart in the beginning, but it just worked out that way.
Pynn
I always said you were that smart.
Lester
Since you are talking about funding—I have been teaching a class this semester in U.S. economic history. Divided my students into groups and each group did a project, and one group did a project on the High-Tech Corridor. So that way did their presentation today—and I said, “I’m coming…”
Berridge
No, no. wait a minute. Excuse me—we are having this conversation today. I had the conversation with the FIU lady and now your class…
Pynn
Randy is writing a book on small worlds.
Berridge
I have a book on small worlds. I should work harder on this book, but really? This is…
Lester
Well, they gave a very nice presentation, and after it was over, I told them I was coming to this meeting and I said, “If you had a question to present to this group, what would you ask?” And they thought about it and then they asked, “What is the role of venture capital in the Florida High-Tech Corridor? Is there a role, and if there is, what is it?”
Berridge
It is us. We are unique venture capitalists.
Pynn
We are venture capital.
Berridge
That is what we are, and the uniqueness is we don’t ask for our money back. Find a venture capitalist that will do that and not ask for their money back and I would like to see which asylum the gentleman is with.
Lester
Well, I think they were asking generally about private venture capital.
Pynn
Well, I think there are two sides to that, Randy. We do want. We are very supportive of the venture capital organizations, the Florida venture…
Berridge
Florida venture—we are supportive even though—if I may?
Lester
Mmhmm.
Berridge
They changed their model about a year ago, and said we will no longer support small companies, and as gently as I could, I am saying, “Well, you may just have lost a sponsor.” Because we can’t be attached to that regimented approach to lunacy of not supporting your livelihood going forward. It doesn’t make any sense. They changed the administration. They changed the board.
Lester
And this is?
Berridge
The Florida Venture Forward, and you will find the gentleman’s name on this list is now part of our Tuesday morning call. He called and said, “If I told you we’ve changed and have gone back to supporting small companies, can we come back to the fold?” I said, “Absolutely.” So…
Hitt
It could be an un—or under-developed part of what we do though. We really—that has probably been the thing we have talked the least about, and I am not involved day-to-day with this, so, you know—but if I could think of one area I could say we might do more in from my standpoint…
Berridge
Your students are very astute.
Holsenbeck
But GrowFL has that as one of its objectives, so we use our funds to help start GrowFL and support that aspect of their mission.
Pynn
But we have done, over the years, a number of things to support and expand venture capital flowing into the state. We hosted a group on the far western end that came here from around the country—I am trying to think of the name of it—but they go—they are actually an international group, and they go from market to market very quietly and find a sponsor like us to come in and show them what’s there.
Hitt
Yeah.
Pynn
We have been very supportive of the for—and I think you are really right. that’s an area that we—and this may be the time of us to step back and look and say, “What can we do?” Because it’s a one—we are two things. We get with our Central Florida Tech for or the Tampa Bay Tech for two issues: workforce, finding the town, and venture capital, and that is why Randy always says we are venture capital, because though we started with a mega-giant like AT&T as our partner, there are a lot of companies that are getting funding for that through that matching grant research program that otherwise it would have to come through a venture capitalist.
Berridge
May I compliment your students, number one? And number two, we have a pretty strong history of funding starving graduate and doctoral students. Twelve—excuse me—2,400 through our matching grants program over the 16 years, and Kerry is the keeper of that stat. We have two interns right now in Tom O’Neal’s shop helping us with economic impact studies that we do, but the question they have posed presents an opportunity for some corridor funding back to your organization and to them. I don’t believe as a state we do a good enough job of chronicling the venture capital invested in who, what, when, where, why, and how. Who are the venture capitalists investing in—in our state? How much? If we can capture that, but take it more than just venture. If I can expand their question, and have it friends and family starting with some crazy things I’ve done over the years, I have to admit, as well as angel funds, which I had that much money to qualify for that, and all the way to venture. Alright? And in doing that, they will get a better understanding of the difference in those categories and who they apply to, but more importantly, we may end up with a better study then we’ve ever had in terms of what is happening in Florida, and what can we do then to change the paradigm that we think exists of the folks that are in Peter’s category of having some megabucks and all? And why is he not investing in Florida, but in this—well, I know he’s investing in the Carolinas—but, the history we think we have…
Hitt
You are making a pretty good payment from the Cherokee Nation [laughs].
Berridge
That is going to my church. What can we do to identify better why we think the folks that have some money to invest are investing it in the states and the companies in the states from whence they came? Okay, so…
Hitt
Well—or in California and New York or in California. I didn’t mean my comment to be at all critical of what we are or are not doing, but if I had to think of one area that we might be doing something in that I sort of thought—and heard the least about in discussions on the corridor—that is probably it.
Berridge
Right. That’s it. Right on target.
Hitt
And that might be an opportunity for us.
Berridge
You’re on the leadership board with some of the Metro Orlando EDC [Economic Development Commission] and some of the refocusing things they are doing. To have this study, maybe have it annually for them—for the EDC—critical. In terms of—it’s just not having major hunting in major boxes. It’s growing and starting and growing our own and having a better idea of the potential of investment capital, no matter what size. We would benefit from that. So compliment them, please and the astuteness of their question.
Lester
Well, I was somewhat shocked when they come up with that question.
Hitt
It’s a good question.
Lester
It’s a good question. Since you have brought up the subject of workforce as well, one of the things that struck me about the High-Tech Corridor as opposed to some other places, is the amount of effort that has gone into the partnerships to create a solid workforce that is going to do more than just put together widgets, but actually had make a contribution. So if you could talk about that…
Berridge
That’s from the golf—that’s from the golf course. We’re sitting on…
Pynn
A lot of things happen on the golf course.
Berridge
John goes—John goes…
Hitt
Some of them we can talk about.
Lester
Yes, I understand.
Berridge
John goes, “Let me get this straight,” and this is—gosh. This has to be 12 years ago? This was when Feeney was Speaker. He said, “You want to take some corridor money and invest it with the community—community—community colleges.” Yeah. I said, “Yeah, John. You want to be the number one metropolitan partnering university, and if you don’t help the companies that are in your backyard do a better job getting the technicians they need, and getting the technicians a chance to get a baccalaureate, you are not going to be as successful in the partner category as you could be, and when you think about the great relationships that exist between UCF and the State and community colleges, the idea of funding seven of the Associate’s Degrees—which is what we ended up doing with a little bit before we got the funding, thanks to Dan and Speaker Feeney—but the workforce money we have received with seven different state community colleges funding those Associate’s Degrees—that’s pretty special, and we put about an average of 150,000 into each one of them, with the caveat that the community—state college—community college would bring its industry to the table, define the need, develop the curriculum from what the industry said the need was, but then structure it in such a way that the graduate—should they elect to do so—could go on and get a baccalaureate. Now, I will give you an example and watch your facial expression. Volusia did the Modeling Simulation and Training degree. There have been 600 enrollees. Ask me how many graduates have graduated to date. Program’s about 4 years old—5 years old.
Lester
How many?
Berridge
Thirty. You see? You see that? And the individual—when I reacted the same way, I’m going, “Why did we put the money—why did we—what—with 30 graduates?” He said, “You didn’t ask the right question.” It goes back to your question in support of workforce. I said, “What?” He said, “Ask a different question.” He said, “Why don’t you ask me how many have jobs?” Light bulbs, light bulbs. He said, “All of them.” I said, “You are telling…” He said, “They are hiring them after they get their first year in. There is enough guts to the program that the corridor helped them devise, based on industry input to get enough that the industry hired them after they finish the first year.” Now I am going, “What happened to this idea of allowing the technicians to get a baccalaureate?” He says, “You’re helping the industry through the program that you funded. They can’t—they can’t get these—they can’t get enough of these technicians.”
Panousis
That goes back on—remember when you were looking for people? We could find engineers. We paid enough money to a company in California or wherever. We could not find technicians. We started some of the programs in community colleges.
Berridge
The first one—the first one—it was—and…
Panousis
We were paying a lot of money. We were stealing them from [Walt] Disney [World] and other companies, but there weren’t enough around to really fill it.
Berridge
It was…
Panousis
That was the most difficult job to fill was a technician.
Berridge
That was the first one.
Pynn
And that’s also why we started Tech Path.
Berridge
Tech Path.
Pynn
It was originally Chip Camp.
Holsenbeck
I had forgotten that.
Berridge
And…
Hitt
There’s a—there’s a thing in a book that really influenced me—Lester [Carl] Thurow’s book, Head to Head[: The Coming Economic Battle Among Japan, Europe and America]. He says that economists in Germany make more than they do in the U.S, and that is because the technicians in Germany make more. You know, the guys out on the floor who really make this stuff make more, and that’s a lesson we…
Berridge
Ben Noll…
Hitt
Need to learn.
Berridge
Head of the Interactive Game Academy. When he was number 2 at Electronic Arts or whatever his COR…
Pynn
Sacher.
Berridge
Right. When we asked him to be at the table to help determine the digital media Associate’s Degree at Seminole State College, he was Electronic Arts and had only technicians. Within about four months of that, he transitioned from Electronic Arts to FIAA, and he called—and I will count on you to clean this up if it makes your report—he said, “I will find the biggest crow in Central Florida. I’ll cook it any way you ask me to cook it, and I will eat it in front of any audience you choose.” He said, “I need technicians.” He said, “I want technicians to go through the UCF program, but coming in as technicians, because they offer a different perspective, but all are needed. That I need—I need the technician perspective, and then the baccalaureate, and then we will do some really neat things with them at FIAA.” But ask Ben Noll about that. He reaffirmed that, by the way, because he hosted our tech camp—the one that took place today, this morning. Kicked off for I/ITSEC [Interservice/Industry Training, Simulation and Education Conference] —the last one was at FIAA, which he hosted and he allowed me to tell this story, so that the teachers from schools all over the corridor would understand that their students. It’s all right to be a technician as well as then get your baccalaureate.
Pynn
So what that means is that everything we do is really workforce development. Every bit of it, and he who wins at workforce development wins at economic development.
Berridge
2,400 students.
Pynn
Starting with kids in the middle schools and high schools.
Berridge
In fact, if M. J. or Tom were here, or Dr. Sanberg, or Tracy Swartz, or—or David—David Gordon—UF—or Shava Jackson-Carr—who runs a program there—they would tell you that, if a program gets to ask desk for approval—Peter is still one of our approvers—doesn’t have students built into it—hm?
Pynn
Doesn’t happen.
Berridge
Very rarely does it happen now, because the intent was—we are doing applied research to help a company, but we want students as a part of that process.
Lester
Excellent.
Pynn
Clark hasn’t asked any questions, have you noticed that?
Clark
Been wonderful.
Berridge
Oh, and I thought it was just Roger.
Pynn
Come on, we are so good at this, listen—he never—he never misses a chance to zing me a little bit.
Hitt
No, no. He’d never.
Pynn
I have a string today, John. I’ve got him under control.
Clark
I have—I have talked to Connie about this. Although it is called the I-4 Corridor, is there any limit to the north-south expansion?
Hitt
We actually changed the name from I-4, because it turned out, you couldn’t trademark the name of an Interstate [Highway], so it’s the Florida High-Tech Corridor now. It can be the XYZ Corridor if somebody else wanted…
Clark
But could you see—it keeping going?
Berridge
It’s in Gainesville.
Hitt
Well, you have to have business.
Clark
Even north of Gainesville or south…
Hitt
But you’ve got to have business and some kind of employment. It wouldn’t have to necessarily high-tech, but you—you need an employer base that you work with.
Berridge
We’ve used it as leverage. The governor has accepted it. Thanks to John and Bernie’s oratorical skills, witnessed by some folks in the room. We were a plank in the governor’s—one of eight—in the governor’s economic development plan, when he was governor-elect. If you look at the most recent report out of the foundation for—Florida’s Chamber Foundation—we are a plank in their 20 year plan to replicate this around the state. Mark Rosenberg, because of the friendship, because of working together, has said, “We would like to clone what you have done it, how you’ve done it, from Miami to Orlando.” Didn’t call it the I[nterstate]-95. He just simply called it—in fact, Roger and Kerry have been helpful in trying to get him to name it. The idea is rather than become one huge—we think it’s five city-states in our state regardless of what we try to do to make it a state. Why not build on that strength? We complement each other…
Pynn
We’ve tried. We’ve tried to—for instance, Jim, connect all the way to the Gulf Coast and become a South Florida version of this. We basically cover the central portion of the state, because we are a partnership of the three universities. We define it as you’ve gotta be in the primary service areas of the universities. Now, Florida, as a land grant, has this statewide mission, but they are—they have defined—was it Alachua [County]? And they added two counties.
Berridge
Bernie agreed—I know you are quick to go away there, but that didn’t go anywhere, but Bernie agreed that we would try to keep the idea of a corridor, so therefore it was just Alachua and Putnam [County] that we added, when we added UF, and that was their request.
Hitt
But you really do have to have an identifiable employment base that you are going to service and it can be high-tech, it can be something else.
Clark
So you are encouraging Mark to start his own, not join you.
Berridge
Yes, sir. Yes, sir.
Hitt
Well, if he wanted to join us, that’s fine, but he—he stills needs a base of employment down there. He needs some companies he is serving who will work in partnership with him. Absent that he can get appropriations, you can get all the free consulting from us—from Randy—that we could possibly give, but he won’t have an organic entity. You’ve got to have the real partnership. You’ve got to have a Peter Panousis, who says, “I need the research.” You know? “I’ve got a series of problems that we can work on together,” and absent that, you’ve just got another university office.
Berridge
We got the first funding based on the success of what was done for Peter through the two universities. We got the second funding—based on skills that Dr. Holsenbeck—Dr. Holsenbeck has—we got the second funding because of Peter, but also because of what we did with the money the first year. We got the third round of funding—again, the confluence of Toni Jennings, Dan Webster—leadership, leadership, leadership, but you gotta do something with the money. So the third round of funding came because we had branched out by that time, and we had done projects, like we did with Peter. We had done projects, started to do projects with companies of all sizes.
So what we said to Mark—Mark called about three months ago, before he lost Davina. He said, “We’ve been meeting a lot.” I said, “Yes, sir.” “We’ve been meeting a lot.” I said, “Yeah. I got it the first time.” He said, “All we’ve been doing is meeting.” I said—“Mark, you’ve got it.” I said, “Just do something. Just do it. Okay?” And he goes, “Okay. What do you suggest?” I said, “Mark, you got a research foundation?” “Yeah.” “You got $250,000?” “Yeah.” “Does M. J. have a research foundation at FAU [Florida Atlantic University]?” “Yeah.” “Got $250,000?” “Yeah.” “Do you have friendship with the University of Miami?” “Yeah. kinda sorta.” I said, “Do they have a research foundation?” “Yeah.” I said, “Then why don’t you each put up 250,000 and just start doing projects like we’ve been doing projects? And once you’ve demonstrated success, I think you’ll have a better chance of getting some matching funds from the state to start doing what we are doing.” Besides you’re gonna get your money back off they call them—recovering’s or loadings—or what’s the proper term when it is charged to the companies?
Pynn
Overhead.
Berridge
Overhead.
Holsenbeck
Indirect overhead.
Hitt
The other thing you just said that I think is really important is you encouraged him to talk to M. J., at least, M. J. is not Soileau’s; it’s Sanders, president down there at FAU. The people in the Legislature and other people in the communities like to see universities work together. So the fact that it isn’t just one university working in the community helps in generating financial and others helps. So I think that is really good advice, but they’ve got to have a few employers down there between that whole corridor from Fort Lauderdale, down to essentially Miami-Dade [County], they’ve got to have a few employers they could enlist to come in as part of this.
Pynn
I think, John, at this point, they haven’t quite figured out that part of the equation. All the schools are together, all the economic developers are together, and the private sector hasn’t been brought to the table yet.
Hitt
They won’t get anywhere ultimately until they do that. I mean, that’s the…
Berridge
Right.
Holsenbeck
What Randy’s advice was: we’ll get two or three private developers on board for that match.
Hitt
But they need to reach out and ask. If they look at their foundation, let alone if they got it, even without a research foundation—just the university foundation—they’ve almost certainly got a few employers who are in manufacturing or some research operation they can bring in and just say, “Look, give us your research folks to attend a few séances here, and let’s try to get this going.”
Pynn
We represent, for instance, Florida Power and Light [Company]. We have asked them to come to the table. I am sure they will. Through our partnership with MSW, we represent United Technologies [Corporation] and Pratt [&] Whitney. I was down there a couple weeks ago, and I asked one of the plant executives about how much research is done. He said, “Well, you know, we do a lot of primary research in this specific area” —which I am not allowed to tell you about or he would shoot me—but something very important, but he said, “We got applied research going on all the time.” So when we have this conversation, I’m going to put those people together for you. That’s the kind of partnership that I mean—jet propulsion.
Hitt
Yeah, you’d think they’d kill for that. But, you know, Peter, you shared with me years back that a lot of the most profit-enhancing, if you will, work that you did in cooperation with the corridor, I think, was—was really operational research. You know, the industrial—classic industrial engineering.
Pynn
Got to make it better.
Hitt
Yeah, and that—you could be operating—you could be working with a trucking firm.
Holsenbeck
Yeah.
Hitt
And—and have—have opportunities there.
Berridge
Yeah, that’s right. We did one at USF.
Hitt
Well, but, you know, you don’t have to be in necessarily a high-tech industry to have really good engineering and scientific impact.
Holsenbeck
You know…
Panousis
[inaudible] that work there. It is really very valuable. You have as many kind of operation with stuff moving through a production line—and I use the term “production line” loosely, because it could be chemicals, it could be medicine, could be anything, but things are moving and they are limited by processes. Understanding that process is very important, and that’s something universities spend a lot of time on and was very valuable for us. We got a lot of out of it.
Hitt
It’s one of the basic skill sets that IEs brings to the table.
Pynn
One of the things that I think will help them is to broaden their horizon. One of the things that has been very powerful for us is the fact that we focus on a number of sectors. We have limited it other than to attach it to the areas that the partner universities believed were their real strengths, where there was the potential for a cluster to develop, where we were—we had teaching and researching in other areas that matched the interest of some industry that’s already here—modeling, simulation, aerospace. When Bernie and the University of Florida joined, they said, “Hey, don’t forget agro-tech.” We hadn’t even—I don’t think any of us had heard the term before. You know? But there’s a lot of technology that mirrors life sciences in agro-business. Right now, the folks in South Florida are focused solely on life sciences. They have—they believe for whatever reason that because of Scripts, because of the success in bringing them down there that that’s the ticket to ride. A few years back, they were the “Internet Coast.”
Holsenbeck
Mmhmm.
Pynn
And they are looking—they are trying to figure out—they need to look to their strengths.
Berridge
That didn’t go anywhere.
Holsenbeck
No, they need to look…
Hitt
Still at the beach.
Pynn
They need to look to their broad, academic strengths, and say, “Who can we match this to in support?”
Holsenbeck
One—excuse me—just a quick answer to your question too, by using a quick example is [Central Florida] Research Park. A lot of people ask High-Tech Corridor and the Research Park to, “Come help us be successful,” and Research Park is—you could build a research park and set up an office. And, by that, I mean just the land and the infrastructure and set up an office, and that’s what the folks at Innovation Way [Corridor] have already contracted with us to do. Joe didn’t ever go out there, okay? Because somebody like Peter has to come in and express an interest in being there. So why—how do you start these kinds of things? Research Park is a good example. You have to have some tenants. Our Research Park owes its success not to the High-Tech Corridor, but to the simulation and modeling industry and the presence of the [U.S.] Military. That’s why it’s doing what it is.
Clark
Doctor, do you think that the involvement of the business community, going back 16 years, helped get other things approved, such as the medical school, the stadium? That is—you coming into contact with all these business leaders, and business community getting to know you, and the university coming to trust you guys?
Hitt
Yeah, I think that’s the way it works, it wasn’t say—if you think about either of the projects you mentioned, it wasn’t the nuts and bolts of them. It was the fact that they associated us with a successful enterprise. That we had been able to—helped organize something and get it really working, and they had seen the university as a competent organization
Clark So is it possible that those things might not have happened if it hadn’t been for the initiative of the High-Tech Corridor ?
Hitt
Well, I suppose so. You know, I—probably less so with the—less so with the stadium, but when you ask people to get behind something as complicated as getting the medical school approved, probably the perceived success of the—of the High-Tech Corridor was a really…
Holsenbeck
I can give you one very solid example. Ken Pruitt, President of the Senate—we are trying to get FIA, and I go in and talk to Ken and explain—this was—this was this was, I think, the two years before he became president. He was Chairman of [the Committee on Appropriations], I believe, and I go sit down and talk to him, and I said, “You’ve heard about the FIA project and what we are trying to do there?” And maybe a few words changed, but this is exactly the way the conversation went. “Do I need to give you a white paper or do I need to put any other facts or anything together for you?” And that’s the absolutely truth. He looked at me and he said, “If John Hitt says this is what you’re going to do with the money, and this is what it will do, then I am okay.” That’s exactly what he said, and the FIA money was eventually in the budget.
Hitt
I forgot—Dan had told me that story at one point and I forgot it. There’s an important thing nested within that, that Dan and others at the table deserve credit on too. Universities sometimes get a bad reputation for taking money to do one thing and then doing something else with it, and that’s something that Dan and I have worked very hard to get all of our people to understand. You don’t do that. If you ever want to get money again from those people, don’t do that. You ask for the money to do X, you do X. If for some reason that can’t happen, you go back to them, and if need be and re-appropriate it, but don’t just take it under the supposition—promise—that you will do one thing and do something else with it. That’s deadly. Surprising how often it happens.
Lester
Well, I have a couple—couple of last questions. One of them is: where do you see as the challenges now that you are 15 years into this?
Berridge
The answer I was honored to give a couple weeks ago in a similar setting was—if you believe in partnership, and it really is a partnership and you put yourself on the line—so I called Dan last week, following a conversation I had with David Norton, and I said, “David, we’ve been trying through some very, very tough times to get even one-time funding, let alone recurring funding for—for UF.” But it’s still a major objective. The governor accepted 5 million per state university that wanted to adopt our program on the basis that the money would come to us, we would validate their program, and only once we validated their program, would the money be transferred to said university. In doing so, that would have increased our funding as well, which we would be very happy, when you think in terms of UCF running through the budget by January-February, which it has historically done, that would tell you that there are plenty of projects.
Pynn
Let me explain that—running—running through the research projects, not running out of money.
Berridge
The budget is appropriation is consumed by January-February, because we have that many great projects coming to the university to partner with corridor money to do the applied research. You forget was—if you had an amount more than we have now—we have taken budget cuts just as the university has, of course. Well, we could do more, if we had more in terms of funding, but we didn’t put it that way. What we put it was—establish the program for any state university that wanted to do what we were doing. We said in the process, our three—UCF, USF, and UF—we would like to see recurring funding initially at the 2 million level for UF. So that’s a major goal. So hopefully it doesn’t take the next 15 years to get that done. That would be a major goal.
Hitt
I think one of the things we have got to—to address—I think we have been doing so, but look around the table we are not spring chickens. And, I mean, even a young guy like Roger. You know? But, you know, this Friday—I guess it is I will be 72 years old. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be President [of the University of Central Florida], but it’s not another 20 years plus, and Randy’s gonna want to be fully retired one day, as well Ben, and Peter already is—the rascal. So you know we’ve gotta—I think we’ve institutionalized things pretty well, but if you got a president who just didn’t understand or commit to partnership, it would be hard for this to survive. When you think about the five goals, and partnership, and how much we are invested as an institution in that concept and in practice, I don’t think it’s likely that the next president will not care about partnership. I think that will be a criteria in the selection process that we’ve set up, but that’s clearly an issue, you know? Does it survive the person—the people who put it in place and operating it and sustaining that for 16 years?
Berridge
Bernie is in the process of going on to his next vocation—or vocation or what have you—dentist, I believe. Researcher, as well as a dentist.
Pynn
I bet he doesn’t go back to pulling teeth.
Berridge
No?
Hitt
Oh, no. He’s going to be here in Orlando for a lot of this time.
Berridge
So…
Pynn
Is he?
Lester
Really?
Hitt
Yeah.
Berridge
A transition plan for a couple years now.
Pynn
With the research center?
Hitt
Yeah, in developing part health partnership—expanding, I think, on what they’ve got with Orlando Health and…
Pynn
Wonderful.
Berridge
We have shared it this morning from folks all over the country that are part of this. It’s a program—some nationally acclaimed teachers—we have been recognized through the tech camp tech path program as the best of the best in terms of the state of Florida for STEM [Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics] programs. I want the gentleman sitting to your right to close his ears now. We’ve had his leadership in trying to bridge a number of STEM programs at our universities and in our region. PRISM [Promoting Regional Improvement in Science and Math]—I don’t like the term—no matter how you succinctly you try to pronounce the first thing that comes to mind is not an optical device or an acronym for STEM programs. Anyway, He lets me say that each time we get together, but the idea of merging all of these STEM programs across the region to make them more effective would be a target for sooner than later in the next 15 years. It needs to happen. With limited resources, Roger’s team has put together every school superintendent. Thanks to Jim Shot and others across our—is there ten? Ten of them?
Pynn
Ten.
Berridge
Ten counties. So that’s the lynchpin you’ve got—that you’ve got the school superintendents that have come and gone. Bill Vogel—his replacement—Orange County—he’ll shoot me—just retired from Orange County.
Pynn
Ron Walker.
Berridge
Don’t tell Ron I did that. All this transition and they’re still together, but they’re only…
Hitt
Yeah, but his successor’s also a [UCF] Knight.
Pynn
UCF alumni.
Berridge
That’ll help. That’s right.
Pynn
The school superintendent in Orange, Seminole, Lake County. All three of ‘em. ’80, ’81, ’82 grads.
Berridge
That’ll help us keep that group together, but there is so much more in terms of potential. So how do we do a better job or orchestrating and sharing best practices?
Hitt
We take so much for granted. The ability to partner vertically in this—Central Florida. It’s not even the case in a lot of the rest of the state, where, you know, where you could say, we’re going to work with the schools, we’re going to work with the state colleges. Hell, there are parts of the state where they’re at war with one another. Not only do they not collaborate and cooperate, they’re fighting one another, and we tend to take that for granted here.
Holsenbeck
Yeah. Instead of working together in difficult times—without mentioning the topics, because I think it is like this right here, a signed docent—but the school system and the community colleges have to come to us for a joint endeavor, and that’s an example, and we all talked—the three government relations people—as we sat around the table and talked, and we said, “Do you know anywhere else—not only in the state, but maybe in the country—where this kind of initiative would come from the K-12?” So I think that’s something unique. I think one of the long-range goals is that we need to move with even more design and strategy to emerge as truly the statewide model, and help everywhere we can go and every corner of Florida to instill this program, and I think that should be one of our goals, and Roger knows this. I think he and Kerry—his organization—do a great job, but I still think, as I said a while ago, we need to double our efforts to make the policy-makers aware of all these other programs that are going on behind the scenes that are so vital to the foundation of creating that high-tech knowledge and the workforce to go along with it.
Pynn
And that to me—and I talk about this all the time—having this history is such an important tool for us in our toolbox to tell that story. So once we’ve chronicled where this thing’s been, it’s a lot easier to do that. Hit somebody over the head with a book.
Holsenbeck
And one last goal that I think would really help us—and I’ve been saying this for years—and it takes the M. J.’s and the faculty, but we need one huge hit, one great big project that the three institutions secure together. We need a high-tech SymTech or a high-tech something with hundreds of millions of dollars from the Federal level, and if we could ever get all those faculty members working together unselfishly on that level to come up with some sort of sharing program on that, I think that would be an indelible footprint on the map of what we’re about.
Pynn
And that brings up a point that we really haven’t talked about here. It ain’t for not trying that we haven’t gotten there. Behind the scenes, we’ve made some incredible efforts…
Holsenbeck
Mmhmm.
Pynn
To try and focus Federal energy and other grant-making activities on this region. We’ve come very close, and the great news is that out of that we have—I always look at it as part of that pajama hotline we have on Tuesday mornings—we have a bunch of people on the phone on Tuesday mornings who can respond like that—put together responses for opportunities. One of these days—we’re going to hit another...
Holsenbeck
SymTech was one.
Berridge
We’ve had two by the way. Guess that—from what company the two projects came from? Yeah. You’re good. Yeah. One of your graduates, and it was a wafer-polishing deal where we brought professors and students in from USF and UCF to work on.
Hitt
You know, there’s a good example too of what Roger said—the learning that takes place as you respond to these. We were a lot better in our attempts to bring Sanford-Burnham [Medical Research Institute] here than we were in our attempts to bring Scripts here. I mean we learned a lot from the near-miss on Scripts, and we were a lot closer on that then people knew. What’s the guy’s name that’s head of Scripts, who’s going to retire now?
Pynn
Richard…
Hitt
Yeah, and he was—when we were out at the airport before they left to go down south, he was asking if I’d come out and meet with his board the next week. We were—we were that close to getting that, but I correctly forecasted we would not. The farther they got away from us, the more his desire to be down there with the billionaires would take over, and that’s what happened.
Holsenbeck
The area also looked like La Jolla[, San Diego, California]. A lot of those people were coming…
Lester
Yes.
Holsenbeck
Because they wanted that environmental landscape.
Hitt
You know, we—we had the better offer in terms of what we could really provide for them, but there’s was a lifestyle component that was very important to them and I thought the closer they got to that—the farther they got from Lake Nona and what we were offering them, the less we were going to be happy with the result, and that’s indeed what happened, but boy, what we learned. Not just here at the university, but what Orlando and—and Orange County learned made a big difference in the next effort.
Clark
One thing that surprised me ever since we got involved in this was: in so many places, the local university is either the 500 pound gorilla—and I am thinking Yale [University] and New Haven[, Connecticut] —or else is an ivory tower that almost is ashamed of—Duke [University] and Durham[, North Carolina]—being in the community, and this is really very unique. This is—I—I can’t think of other—other cities where this has happened, where the local university…
Hitt
There are a few.
Clark
Has played such a role in the business community.
Hitt
Yeah, yeah. No, and that makes a big difference for us, in the support we can get for various things.
Berridge
That’s how we had University of Florida [inaudible] Dean of Engineering, a friend—I guess they’ve been together in a past life—with President [Bernie] Machen. Vermont called and said, “We’d like to join the corridor,” and said, “We’re honored.” On asking why, he said, “Well, there’s no way we can stay on the top 20 or have any hope of getting into the top 10 of engineering colleges in the U.S. if we don’t climb out of our ivory tower and get down and start partnering with companies to do applied research.” Not basic—applied research. Oh, by the way, his stats—and he knew it—70 percent of those companies in Florida “were in your corridor, and we’d like to partner with them.”
Hitt
Mmhmm.
Berridge
I know we can come down, but that’s not the way to do it. We want to figure out how to partner with you.
Holsenbeck
I think that’s a change in attitude among the institutions…
Hitt
Yeah.
Holsenbeck
Again, which is to your credit, is this concept of partnership—that it does work, because I think what Randy said is, Bernie could be here, do whatever he wants to do. He does need us, but in reality, he could do it without us.
Hitt
Yeah, he could, and it’s a closely-held strategic view. They see, as he puts it, we are the survivors, and they would like to work with us. I hope that survives Bernie.
Holsenbeck
Yes, that’s the—that’s always the question.
Berridge
Mmhmm.
Hitt
Always the question. You know, if you’ve got an old-style, rigid, competitor mentality that it might not, but…
Pynn
John, I think going—part of [inaudible] we will know that very quickly, but that search committee was given the sense of the importance of that partnership.
Hitt
Well, and in their chair in that David Brown again? He and Bernie are really good in that selection.
Berridge
What can we do for you?
Lester
Well, I—this is…
Clark
You had another question, you said?
Lester
They answered it.
Hitt
Did they? Okay.
Lester
In going through that. This has been very helpful. A lot of the things that you said I kind of gathered through looking at other things and I kind of had the intuition that this was the way it was, but it is very helpful to hear you say it and confirm it. That that’s the way it was, and there was some new things I learned, and I know your time was very valuable and I really appreciate the time.
Hitt
This was fun.
Berridge
Thank you.
Hitt
Thank you. Yes.
Lester
I have to say, on a much smaller level, I’ve worked at a couple big universities before I got here. This is the first university I’ve been to that actually meant it when it says “partnership,” and even in the [UCF] History Department, RICHES [Regional Initiative for Collecting the History, Experiences, and Stories of Central Florida] now has 28 partnerships between different departments, the community, and businesses.
Berridge
Oh, wow.
Hitt
You guys and gals over there are doing partnerships. It—it’s known.
Lester It’s really been amazing to me how well that works.
Clark
Did you know we have our own museum now? Up in Sanford?[6]
Hitt
Mmhmm.
Pynn
You’re the dinosaur.
Clark
A number of people have said…
Pynn
Can I get two points?
Hitt
You’re a leg up on three points
Lester
But you know…
Clark
A number of people I’ve talked to, involved in this, have said that giving me a pay raise would enhance the university.
Lester
Exactly.
Clark
Have you given that much…
Hitt
We have. We’ve thought about it a lot.
Pynn
You know what—actually, I understand.
Hitt
We’ve thought about it as much as we’re going to.
Pynn
I understand we’ve thought that we’re going to do some research on that.
Berridge
It’s a history project.
Holsenbeck
Let’s say goodbye to the staff. Thank you so much for the interview.
Cravero
Today’s Thursday, July 30, 2015. My name’s Geoff Cravero. I’m speaking with Mick Dolan at the Salem Media Group radio stations in Altamonte Springs, Florida. Thanks for speaking with me today, Mick.
Dolan
No problem.
Cravero
Uh, let’s just begin I guess with a little of your biography. Could you, uh, tell us a little about where you’re from originally and, uh, early kind of bio details?
DolanI was found under a rock…
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
About, uh 64 years ago.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
[laughs] Uh, my radio career started in, uh, Topeka, Kansas. I was, uh, at a station there. Then I went to Kansas City[, Missouri], spent a couple years there, and, uh, about five years in Louisville[, Kentucky], but, on July 28, uh, 1980, I came here, uh, and started at [W]DIZ[–FM 100.3]. So uh, 35 years—I’m celebrating my 35th, eh, on the radio here.
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
Uh, DIZ, uh, was a great radio station. It’s gone now. Uh, then I went on—took a break, got out of the, eh—the business completely, and about three or four years later, uh, somebody—I saw a friend at a—in line at the post office and she goes, “You know what? They’re looking for people over at WLOQ[-FM 107.7], the smooth jazz station.” So I said, “Eh.” I went over there—I actually interviewed for the promotions director job, but, uh, I didn’t get it. The program director says, “Hey, man, we need to get you back on the air here.” So they—they—we did a part-time job for a while. It worked into a full-time job. I was a morning host with another guy, Mark Taylor.
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
And, uh, then went to the nights, and then the station got sold. So [laughs] I’ve actually killed two radio stations in my career here, but, uh, after that, uh, took another little break and found a job here doing news and traffic now at, uh, the Salem [Salem Media Group] stations: WORL[-AM 660] and WBZW[–AM 1520]. So afternoon drive, man. I’m the news guy and the traffic guy. So, you know, what goes around comes around.
Cravero
[laughs]
Dolan
And, uh…
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
But, you know what? It—it is always beat working.
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
I’ve never, uh—you know, I—I never really wanted a real job.
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
I wanted to do what I liked to do, and isn’t that the whole reason? Uh, I mean, come on. If you can’t like what you’re doing, then what are you—what are you doing? So that’s what I tell people: “Always beats working.”
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
Let’s close that door.
Cravero
Alright [laughs].
Dolan
That’s awful noise in here.
Cravero
[laughs].
Unidentified
[inaudible].
Dolan
We make a lot of noise here at Salem.
Cravero
[laughs] That’s okay.
[door closes]
Dolan
Most of it’s good.
Cravero
Yeah [laughs].
Dolan
Alright. Should I be looking at there? Or…
Cravero
Oh, no. Just—this works fine.
Dolan
Okay, alright, okay.
Cravero
That’s good. Um, yeah, I guess, uh—let’s see. Tell us a little about the, uh—the Baxter and Mark Show.[1] I noticed you—you sent us some photos of them, and, uh…
Dolan
Unbelievable.
Cravero
I read a little bit about, uh, the shock jock-era kind of thing. Uh…
Dolan
Yeah, that was before your time. Right?
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
You young guys—I just don’t—well, uh, they were one of the best morning shows ever, and the thing that they did was they interacted with people. They—they’re not talking to ya. They’re getting ya—they had callers all the time. They were always pulling stunts and pranks and, uh, just [laughs]—just some amazing stuff on the radio, and, uh, unfortunately, uh, because the business is the business, uh, the management, uh, felt that, uh, after a while that they’d outlived, uh, you know, their—their run, and they replaced them with Ron and Ron—another good show—but, just kind of kicking them to the curb after five, six, seven years, that’s—that’s crazy, but, uh, they were not able to carry on the team.
So they split up, and Mark Samansky died back in 2011, uh, and we try to do a, uh, reunion for him. I haven’t been able to do it the last couple of years. Uh, it’s kind of a—it’s a lot of work, but, uh, just in his memory, because he was such as talented guy. I mean, “Dr. Zonas” and, uh, you know, the [laughs]—“Opie Gets Nookie”, all these songs that they did that, uh, just—you—you know, they would take a song—a popular song—and—and, uh—and change it around a little bit and—and make a funny out of it, and, you know, it’s such[?], uh—the wake-up calls were legendary. Uh, they were doing this stuff before anybody else did. So they were—they were true groundbreakers. They really were, and Baxter’s still around. He’s up in, uh, Washington D.C. He’s doing voice work, but, um, you know, he’s the kind of guy who just anything in radio. I mean, he can do the commercials, he’s—he was an operations guy. Uh, he was really the—he sort of kept them on the ground [laughs]. [inaudible]. Samansky was out of his mind, so they worked so well together.
It was a great show, but, uh, long live Baxter and Mark. You can still see them, uh—I can’t think of the—it’s—it’s Baxterradio.com. He’s got a bunch of their old bits. Uh, one of my favorites ev—ever was Mr. Bradley. This was an old black guy that thought he was calling the radio station to win Michael Jackson tickets, and they [laughs]—they turned that poor boy every which way. They recorded the bit and then later would split it, you know, chop it up. They could make him say anything. It was the most unbelievable thing, and they got—I don’t know how many bits they did. It wa—you know, every once in a while Mr. Bradley would call, and, uh, so you know—it just—stuff like that that was just epic. Unbelievable [laughs], but, anyway, we’ve got the memories.
Uh, and, you know, it’s hard to believe that radio station went away—it’ll be 20 years next year. 1996. Uh, Clear Channel bought them, turned them into soft rock, and then they went to Spanish and then, uh—I don’t know. what is it now? I—I don’t know, but, I—I think it’s still Spanish, and—but, uh, it was pretty amazing. That’s the way radio is. Nothing ever stays the same. Well, that’s an—any media it’s like, uh, it’s always changing, and you’ve got to stay one step ahead, and, uh, quite frankly that—that—that’s[sic] has been a problem. I haven’t been able to do that [laughs], but, you know, it’s hard to be a 64 year old disc jockey in rock radio, and, uh, I can—I can still bring a lot to the table, but, it—it is what it is—what it is.
Cravero
When you talked about, uh, you know, Clear Channel in ’96, buying out a lot of the…
Dolan
[inaudible].
Cravero
The radio stations, yeah.
Dolan
104. Uh, that’s—that was—these were all free standing radio stations, ‘cause back then, you could only own an AM and an FM [clears throat]. That was it. Now, I think it’s like seven total, uh, you can own. So you’ve got three companies that dominate the market here: Cox [Media Group], uh, Clear Channel, and, uh inaudible what is it? CBS [Columbia Broadcasting System], I think. I’m not sure. Maybe they call it something else. I have no idea, but those three guys dominate, uh, still, and, you know, it’s what deregulation did. Can’t win them all. Put a lot of good people out of work, I can tell you that, and, uh, is the quality of radio any better? [buzzer noise] I don’t think so. No, no.
I mean what [W]MMO[-FM 98.9] does, what [W]JRR[-FM 101.1] does—they do what they do. That’s good, but it just doesn’t have the soul. It doesn’t have the heart that—that we had back in the day, because those guys are doing a bunch of other jobs. You don’t just do radio. When I was hired back in the day, I—I mean, in my case I was promotions director, too, and—and, uh—so I did that, as well as be on the air, and I was also the production director. I had three jobs there, but really, most people just did one—you were on the air. You did your four hour shift and you were done. It’s like, “Wow.” What a job that is. Not anymore. Now, uh, you gotta pay the piper. So anyway, business has changed. You can’t win them all [laughs].
Cravero
What was the, uh—the Orlando music scene like, uh, when you first came and—and kind of had, you know—how did it evolve?
Dolan
Uh, it—it—it was—it blew up in the ‘80s. I mean, uh, there was a rock club on every corner. Point After [Tom’s Point After], Fern Park Station, Plus 3 Lounge, uh, gosh, the ABC Lounges were doing live music, uh, and I’m, uh—I’m forgetting a bunch of others, but, uh, you know, it was—it was fun. I mean, you could—and it didn’t hurt that I lived like two blocks from Fern Park Station, and my car knew the way home. So I had no problems there, but it was just a fun time. It was kind of an innocent time. It was anything goes. It was back when you could get away with stuff, and—and now you’ve got laws. So uh, it—it was just a really special time and there was—there were booking agents that—oh, my god—Ricky Young and Steve, uh, Brewton— “Brewster” Brewton—uh, these—Steve Peck. These guys—Earl Tennent—these guys made big money booking bands. Now, the clubs don’t want to pay for it. That’s the—that’s the problem. The clubs don’t want to pay for their entertainment. Plus, everybody think he can be a rock star, and so there’s a million bands out there, and there’s some good bands. You’re in a good band.[2] So [laughs] where’s the outlet? How do you guys make money? I should be asking you that.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
Uh, so it—it’s—it was real special, and then I think just a combination of the economy just kind of went another direction and, you know, the deregulation of—of radio, and, uh, I—I think that just—it really hurt, and now, there’s still clubs out there—there’s still—you can still hear a good band, but, they’re not making any money. Uh, it’s too bad, but they’re just not. So…
Cravero
Do you have any, uh—any favorites? Like local bands from the ‘80s, or ‘90s, or…
Dolan
Oh, then there re was the Bobby Friss Band, and Stranger, and Foreign Legion, and, uh, uh—in fact, Stranger Band, uh, they lost a couple of people. They lost their guitar player.[3] He, uh, passed, uh, years ago, and then their drummer, uh, [John] “J.P.” [Price], recently had, uh—he had cancer or something, but—so they’re all getting old and dying, but Greg Billings was in that band. He still has his band, the Greg Billings Band. So—but, those were special bands. Uh, oh, I don’t know. I—I—I can’t—there’s a million of them.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
I can’t remember any of them right now, but, uh, those bands were able to make a living and have a lot of fun. You know, back in—opening up for Van Halen and, you know, things like that. So they were big, uh, but, it’s all gone now. There was a band called Sons of Doctors [laughs]. That was great too. They were a little bit later—late ‘80s—but, uh, Angelo Jannotti, those guys—they’re still around, you know? So, uh, it—it—it was a special time. It really was.
Cravero
What about, um—I read a little about the Rock Super Bowls they did…
Dolan
Oh.
Cravero
At the Citrus Bowl.
Dolan
Epic, epic. Unbelievable. I came from Louisville in 1980, and it was funny, because they—those big stadium shows were just starting back, you know, late ‘70s, early ‘80s, and I had seen, uh, ZZ Top and, uh, Lynyrd Skynyrd, uh, in—in Louisville, and that same show that had Bob Seger, and they came that [clears throat]—that summer. So I—I caught them there too, but those Super Bowl[s], they—they had big name acts, every one of them, and I think that fell victim to the times, as well. The people—the bands, who are big and popular, they want too much money, and—and a show like that, you just couldn’t put it together, uh, like they—they could then. Uh, then, of course, there was The [Rolling] Stones and The Who, and, uh, Stones came back—I did not see that show. I wanted to, but I missed it, and, uh—well, because I had to pay now.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
[laughs] I didn’t have to pay back then, and I ain’t going to pay hundreds of dollars. I’m sorry. I love the band, but uh-uh. I’ve got better things to do with that money. I shouldn’t say that. I probably shot myself in the foot, but that’s alright. It’s only rock and roll. So uh—but those—that was a community thing, man, and the memories, and—and again, what you can get away with. It’s like—it’s crazy. It was all good, and you—you talk to anybody who’s been around a while and you mention Rock Super Bowls, and they’re going to go, “Oh, oh, I remember that one, yeah.” Ted Nugent, uh—it was pretty cool. Very nice, but I don’t think they could pull that off now. You just can’t do that. It would have to be part of a tour, and—and I know there’s tours like that, but—but not in that environment. I mean, it’s just something else, and the—and the Citrus Bowl wasn’t even that big back then. They still put 50,000 in there. So, you know, promoters made a lot of money. Everybody was happy, and the tickets—I don’t know—I—those Super Bowl tickets probably weren’t more than 20 dollars. Oh, my god. How—can you imagine that? You know, those were the days. It is.
Cravero
Yeah, did you, uh, have any interesting, uh, stories about being backstage at any of them?
Dolan
[laughs].
Cravero
[laughs] That you can share.
Dolan
That I can talk about today?
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
One of my favorites was, uh, uh, David Lee Roth of Van Halen and—because I got to do an interview with him, and, you know, it—those days it wasn’t, you know, wireless—there wasn’t any of that, but—so I recorded it on a cassette player, and we took a bus over there to see him. It was in Lakeland[, Florida], and, uh—that’s where—that’s where the concerts were—was Lakeland Civic Center. There was no Orlando Arena. There was no Amway Center. There was nothing. So you had to go to Lakeland to see a show, and the same for Tampa. So the—the two converged—the markets converged there, and—and it was kind of cool because backstage you’d see the Tampa radio guys and, you know, it was a kind of a family, but, uh, David Lee Roth was out of his mind. Took over the interview. I mean—I—he was interviewing me. So I had that and I—I played it for the people on the bus back home, uh—on the way back, and it was just epic. Uh, I had a—I’ll tell you the worst interview I ever had was George Thorogood. Guy was a total asshole.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
I’m sorry. He was. Great music. Love the guy.
[cell phone beeps]
Dolan
Couldn’t believe that—that—but, he was obnoxious, he was making fun of radio, he was, you know, uh, dissing on everybody…
[cell phone beeps]
Dolan
And it was like, “What?” You know, “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I’m trying to help you. I’m doing this for you as much as for me.” So just left a really bad taste in my mouth, but, uh, um—and then, you know, I got to be onstage for The Who. I got to bring on The B-52’s. They opened for The Who, and [laughs] that was the punk rock scene there, and that was—they were considered, you know, new wave. Uh, that was, uh [makes sound]—the rock guys did not like—they were booed[sic] ‘em. They were throwing stuff onstage. I’m bringing them on and I dodge a can—a Converse [Chuck Taylor] All Star [shoe] that—a red one. I’ll never forget it. So I dodged that one, brought on the band. They lasted maybe three songs, and while I was onstage, the other Converse All Star—the other red one—came flying up on the stage. So they only lasted three songs and walked off and I can’t blame them, but, uh [laughs] there’s just—just epic stuff like that, but, uh, there’s no—I mean, you can’t even describe what it’s like to be out on that stage in front of 50,000 people, and when you speak, there’s a delay. There’s like a half to a full second delay. So you’re hearing, you know—that’s very—that’s hard to get used to, but, you know, the—the—the—the experience was just unbelievable. Great stuff.
Cravero
That’s cool.
Dolan
Yeah.
Cravero
[laughs].
Cravero
I read also you did, uh,—you, uh—CMT’s [Country Music Television], uh—they did like a fantasy camp?
Dolan
Yeah, Camp Nashville [laughs].
Cravero
What was that?
Dolan
My—my friend and I, Lee Bailey, who was a promoter himself—in fact, he was of the only guys to lose money on Larry the Cable Guy,[4] if you can believe that, uh, and—so he had some bad luck, but, uh, we—we were trying to do, uh—it was patterned after Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp, uh, which is hugely successful. I—and what the concept is: you gather musicians, you pay to be a camper, and, you know, they jam with you, they teach you some stuff, they have sessions. You know, it’s all—it’s very cool. Very cool concept. Well, we thought we could do it and we went to Nashville and, uh, found out that it was a little harder than we thought, and so it never even got off the ground. Uh, we—we had—we opened it, uh, we were taking camper, you know, registrations, but, uh, just didn’t have the money or the contacts to—to make it happen, and I still think it’s a good idea, but we just couldn’t pull it off.
So, uh—I like all kinds of music. I mean, I’ve worked rock and smooth jazz, always, you know, news and traffic, but, I like country. Uh, I’m not real fond of rap, but, uh—I mean, every music has something in it, and every music—Americana? uh, I mean, come on. Bon Iver? I like that guy.[5] I think that guy is talented, uh, but—but, you know, I don’t know all of the new music. I—I don’t know how anybody keeps up with it. There’s just so much out there, and so much that’s never heard by, you know, anybody but the real fans. Uh, so I depend on my two, uh, sons to keep me up on that.
Dolan
But, uh, it’s—it’s just a great—a great career, if you can find your niche. That’s the whole key, and you’ve got to remember that it changes every day [laughs] practically, and so uh, be ready to move, you know?
Cravero
Well, I know you’ve got a show to get to.
Dolan
Yeah, man.
Cravero
So, uh…
Dolan
The news and traffic never stops.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
And there’s plenty to do, but, uh, let’s make sure—yeah, I’m good.
Cravero
Alright.
Dolan
Okay, but, uh, you know—just in closing, it—it—it’s so good to be remembered, I think, in a positive way, and I just try to be myself and—and try to connect, try to—I mean, I love people, and—and that’s what you have to have. You have to have that empathy for your audience, and, uh—onstage, as well. Uh, I love to do onstage, love to bring bands on. I—I just brought, uh—uh—uh, Blandini—Jeff Blando was an old rocker. It’s—he’s still around, and, uh, you know, played with, uh, uh, uh, Slaughter and, uh, I can’t think of it. Anyway—but—but he—he’s got his own band, Blandini. I just brought him on. It’s a new place called Paradise Cove in Seminole County, right by the river. Man, it’s got a pool, boat slips—you can pull your boat right up, uh, and so my friend, uh, Randy—he’s—he’s got that, uh, place, and so you know, I still do that all the time. I’ll bring—I love these—especially these bands that have been around for a while and are still doing it, and it’s like, hey. You know, one relic introduces the others.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
Right? So it—it’s just—it’s—it beats working always, and I appreciate you coming by and talking to me [laughs].
Cravero
I appreciate you talking to us, Mick. Thanks a lot.
Dolan
And get the word out. We’re still here.
Cravero
[laughs].
Dolan
[laughs].
Cravero
Will do.
Dolan
Okay.
Cravero
Alright, man. Thanks.
Dolan
Thank you. Alright.
McLaughlin
Alright, today is Wednesday, the 24th of October, 2012. It is 3:05 PM. I am with Dr. Storm [Leslie] Richards at his home in Geneva, Florida, and we’re going to discuss his experiences as related to historic preservation in Sanford, specifically concerning the Sanford Student Museum [and Center for the Social Studies].
Richards
We moved to Sanford in 1953. My dad was in, uh, the Navy at the time, and, um, we came here, uh, when Sanford was a very small community. It was very agriculturally-oriented. Um, there were many, many schools in Sanford. Uh, I went to, uh, about four of them, uh, from about elementary school through high school—all in Sanford, and then I went to Seminole Community College,[1] which was what it was called at the time in the 1970s, uh, and got my Associate of Arts degree, and went on to the University of Florida and finished my Bachelor’s, Master’s, and Doctorate at, uh, the University of Florida in Gainesville. Um, did some graduate work at Tulane University, but, uh, for the most part, I was always at the University of Florida, and I had a very strong interest in historic preservation and archaeology and, uh, urban—urban development, and I think, uh, first time that I really became—became directly, um, associated with the school [inaudible] was I was asked to help write a grant. Um, he grant was originally through the Division of Historical Resources, which is part of Florida Department of State for doing architectural reconstruction and rehabilitation. Um, one of the things that came to me from the very, very beginning was that the school—the [Sanford] Grammar School was such a tremendous resource in terms of historically where[?] Sanford had been. It was constructed in 1907, I think—’02-’07, and, um, it had always been a real focal point for—for education for—for young kids, and I think, uh—I didn’t go to school there and—and I always remember the school having, uh, teeter-totters and having, um, jungle gyms and the having the maypole, uh, swing that the kids would swing around and stuff like that. It’s—it’s the kind of thing where you still remember the kids yelling and screaming, and just, uh, it was a very fun place. Um, academically, I can’t really speak for it, but, uh, I can remember that—that there was always a lot of activity there, and the school, uh, that I identified with the grant that I worked on was a very important hub for Sanford and for Seminole County to—to look at something historic and say that so many people had gone there and so many people’s lives had been involved. I just thought it was a wonderful focal point, um, to try to keep, and, uh, at that time, they were really the first time that they were getting into the notion of it being an historic properties, and being important for a museum, and—and I was just really, uh, excited about that for the kids to be able to go back and look at things the way they were a hundred years ago.
McLaughlin
All right. Um, in what capacity were you involved, specifically with the grant-writing process?
Richards
Um, because I was—I am a certified archaeologist, and I have a really strong background in historic preservation with the University of Florida and the Urban Re-Use and Planning Department, I was asked to—to come in and take a critical look at if the site was really historic. Now, it had already been designated on the [U.S.] National Register of Historic Places, which one would assume would make it very important, uh, but because it’s part of a district, um, that’s not necessarily the case, and you really want a building like that to stand on its own, be—because the importance not of just the neighborhood, but the importance of it being, uh, the structure that was there, uh, and so I put together, uh, all of the documentation on, uh, why it was historically important, and what it meant to the community, and why the state should look at it as being not just some local landmark, but as something that was important to the county and the State of Florida.
So I wrote that up, and what really ended up happening was that the state looked at that and felt that there was enough merit there that it was designated on a, uh, state list of very important, uh, uh, schools for the State of Florida and it was designated as such with that important notice. I think that the other thing that I did was, uh, I contacted a number of commissioners and a number of people that had on a say on, uh—on how money was being spent, whether it was the school board of, uh, Seminole County, because it was certainly a focus of not just the City of Sanford, but the county also, uh, and told them the importance of preserving that, because at a certain point, older buildings have a way of just deteriorating to the point that they can no longer be used, and it takes an investment, and sometimes, that investment can actually cost more than—than new construction, you know? Rehabilitation’s a very expensive proposition, but what it does for a community, in terms of identifying the importance of a city, and importance of schools, and importance of looking at the people who got an education there and what they went on to do, and is—and it is far more important than any single dollar value.
McLaughlin
Right, I see. About how long did that process take from start to finish? From the beginning to the end[?]? [laughs].
Richards
It took probably—the grants program probably took six months.
McLaughlin
Hm.
Richards
I think though the writing that I did, because I had a familiarity with it, was probably in days.
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
I’m very quick at what I do, and so I think I wrote the, uh, four- or five-page report of why it was important in—in a day or two days.
McLaughlin
Excellent, and what year was this again?
Richards
You know, I think it was probably about, uh, 10 or 15 years ago. I mean, it was probably in the [19]90s—[inaudible] or something like that.
McLaughlin
So like 90s?
Richards
Yeah.
McLaughlin
Right, and who all—do you remember which people from the museum you worked with?
Richards
Se—Serena [Rankin Parks] Fisher…
McLaughlin
Serena Fisher.
Richards
Uh, she was, you know—and I’ve known her for years and years before that, because she’s a geographer and an educator, and—and I’m a geographer also, and so I knew her from the Florida Alliance, um, which was a group of educators who try to—to convey the importance of educating children, and she was working the museum, and, uh, it was the kind of thing that I felt real honored to help her with, because of the possibility of helping people, and, uh, when you drive by the school even today, which I did,
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
Um, it’s one of those things that you can go look at and be proud that it’s still there, because it could be somebody’s patio brick, you know?
McLaughlin
Yeah.
Richards
And—and so it’s a real good place for kids to go and look at the way that things used to be.
McLaughlin
Excellent, and were there any other instances in Sanford, in which you helped with local preservation efforts?
Richards
Um, yes. Uh, the Hopper Academy, which was the African-American school, h, over near the stadium. Uh, I put together the environmental assessment and some of the feasibility studies for—for looking at the rehabbing of that and making that, uh, another focal point, and because it was a wooden building and it had a lot of decay, it was really difficult, and the neighborhood, uh, didn’t lend itself to, you know—there were a lot of transients in the area, and people were sleeping near—in the school, and people were doing a lot of things that were just destructive. I’m not sure that worked out as well as I would have liked, but it was a real, eh, effort for someone to go over there and say, “We’d like to see, you know this—this kept for the community,” and so I worked on that, and, um, also, when I was the senior planner with Seminole County and worked, um, on comprehensive planning, I—I worked very hard to try to get a conservation element that reflected the importance of archaeological and historic sites, um, in—in Central Florida and Seminole County.
In—in the profession that I have now, we do an awful lot of work in Seminole County. Uh, we worked for the airport in Seminole—the Orlando-Sanford [International] Airport. We’ve identified historic sites and identified preservation, uh, concepts for them. [inaudible]. We’ve worked for the Division of Historic Resources on the railroad sites[?] that existed here that came from the 1900s, when they were shipping an awful lot of, uh, produce out throughout—throughout the state and throughout different parts of the country, and so I’ve, you know, worked a lot on different aspects on Seminole County on—on cultural[?] resource assessments and evaluations, uh, both historic and archaeological resources for the county, and provided information for the of State of Florida.
McLaughlin
Excellent, and here’s a little bit of a different question. In your experience working in Seminole County and living here and growing up, how has it changed environmentally? You—what do you think are probably the biggest ways that it’s changed?
Richards
You know, I think—the—the interesting part of that story—and it just hits me immediately—is how recently—this year, someone burnt down the big.[2] They got inside the tree and they lit it on fire, and you have a tree that is older than the for—the 1400s. Before [Christopher] Columbus and…
McLaughlin
Wow.
Richards
This country.
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
And the tree was there, and they burnt it up and destroyed it, and it was considered an “accident,” and it was considered of no great significance, and I can remember riding my bike out to the tree when I was a child from Sanford. It’s—it’s probably halfway between Sanford and Longwood on [U.S. Route] 17-92. Uh, I can remember there was a wonderful book written by [Elvira] Gardner, it was called Ezekiel’s Travels.
McLaughlin
Mmhmm.
Richards
And—and Ezekiel, a little black boy, rode his bicycle out to the big tree and they documented that in the 1930s.
McLaughlin
Wow.
Richards
You know, and—and—and they burnt this tree up and it was considered just kind of a…
McLaughlin
An accident.
Richards
An accident. So, uh—and I think that—it really has an impact, you know?
McLaughlin
Yeah.
Richards
The—the other thing that I can remember that’s changed so much is, when I was, uh, very young, I used to ride my bike down to the—the band shell, and to the, uh—to Lake Monroe, and used to fish there, and there used to be just the band shell, and just the sea wall, and in the last 25 years, you know, they’ve built, uh—they built hotels there, and, uh, they built, uh, mixed used development there. They have had varying degrees of non-success.
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
Uh, but it’s taken away much of the character, you know? I can remember when the zoo was in Downtown Sanford, and, you know, it was a very small zoo. Sorta not like the really nice complex that they have now, but—but Sanford was [inaudible], you know—libraries were there, and it was a place that—that kids went, and young people went, and it was just very different. The [Sanford] Civic Center was a big, big deal, and they had dances every week, and it was just, you know—it was just a place that people went all the time, and, uh, I don’t see that in Sanford anymore. I don’t see that.
McLaughlin
You think some of the character is gone?
Richards
I think—I think the character—and I think that, you know, its—its, um—its environment, and its, um—the neighborhood, and it’s, um—it’s just the changes that have taken place, you know? I can remember the parades in Downtown Park Avenue, and just, um, very large parades that everybody in the community got involved in, and we have something like that now, but [inaudible]—it’s just a, uh—an agglomeration of people with big bands, and—and crazy things happen from early afternoon to way late
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
[inaudible], and it’s just not something that I’m interested in participating in, you know? Probably there are a lot of people that do, but it’s—it’s just very different from when I was raised in Sanford.
McLaughlin
Yeah. As far as developmentally, what effect do you think that the arrival of like Disney Corporation[3] and things like that had on the change, if any?
Richards
Yeah, eh, Disney is a very large beast.
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
And it has a lot of beasts that, uh, have attracted to it—whether it’s the whale beast or the, you know, uh, any number of other international destinations that I think that it’s affected probably not just all of Florida, but the Southeast. It’s the number one tourist destination, you know, in the world, u, and I think it makes Interstate [Highway] 4, which used to be a wonderful opportunity to go to Orlando and you just got on the interstate and ten minutes later, you were in Orlando, and today, it’s, um—it’s questionable if it even functions at all.
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
You know, we have a—we have a toll road system, in which, uh, I was assigned to that. I was Deputy Director of the toll way [inaudible] before they actually started developing it, and it was supposed to relieve the traffic and make traffic a lot different in Central Florida, but Central Florida is so densely populated that it was probably nothing can significantly change that. You know, whether it’s a rail system that they won’t put in, it will cost billions of dollars, whether it’s increasing lanes on I-4, or whether the [Central Florida] GreeneWay builds out. It’s—it’s not going to make the quality of life significantly different, in my opinion, you know, but that’s just part of the price you pay.
McLaughlin
Yeah. Just out of curiosity, how many lanes did I-4 use to be? [laughs].
Richards
You know, I think it was always six—divided six.
McLaughlin
Divided six?
Richards
Yeah, um, eh, it—it had fewer ramps.
McLaughlin
Mmhmm.
Richards
And so they put in more ramps and more access, and it’s—it’s—the speed is much quicker today than it’s ever been. Uh, the Fairbanks [Avenue] curb is a problem that people have been having for years, and everybody’s looking at the engineering and saying, “It’s got to be engineering.” They say, “It’s got to be, you know, your problems,” you know? People are traveling between their ears if they don’t pay attention to traffic, and that’s why we gotta have people at such a quick pace today, you know? It used to be if you made it to work at 8- 8:30, you know, or if you, you know, were just there. Now, everybody fills the building up at 10-to-8, and, you know, so consequently, everybody gets on the interstate and it’s as fast as they can go, and it reminds me a little bit of Atlanta[, Georgia].
McLaughlin
Yeah.
Richards
You know, if you’re not doing 80 [miles per hour], you’re not getting there.
McLaughlin
[laughs].
Richards
I think that the—I think that I-4 is quickly approaching that. If you’re not doing 70, you’re probably not going to make it.
McLaughlin
Yeah.
Richards
You know, that’s just part of reality, part of the [inaudible], and the—the—it’s the quickness of what happens today. It wasn’t like that in the, you know, 1960s.
McLaughlin
Okay, before we go, if you could—would you like to share the story about your father
Richards
Uh…
McLaughlin
And what he did at the Navy base?
Richards
We moved to Sanford in—in ’53. My dad was stationed in Jacksonville, um, before that in the, um—in the Navy, and—and when we moved here, my dad was a navigator bombardier and a mechanic, and when the first jets, which were the [Douglas] A-3D[ Skywarrior]s came from California, my dad was part of the crew that flew the jets from California to Florida. That was before the [North American A-5] Vigilantes, before the larger aircraft. These were, you know twin-engine jets, but their total design and their total purpose was, uh, to launch a, uh, nuclear strike, and—and art of what Sanford, you know—Orlando-Sanford Airport today has the bunkers that they kept the nuclear weapons in, and they were going to load onboard the A-3Ds and—and go to Cuba, and my dad was the slim pickins’ of the aircraft, because it was his job to arm the nuclear weapons—To go back in the bomb bays and arm the nuclear weapons with, uh, I guess a detonation device that you screwed in the—in the nose of the bomb, and that was his job. It—and it was very, very stressful, and you know, at the time, I can just barely remember—I guess I was probably about seven—six or seven years old that all these young kids from the Navy would come over to the house, and they would have parties and stuff, and—and what they were doing was, h, the vanguard of changing the world, if—if they had to, and they all agreed to that—that that’s what they were going to do, and my dad was a really big part of that, and I guess there’s—there’s some pride in that, but there’s also some looking back and saying, “Is this really where we were?”
You know, and [inaudible], and I know today—you know, 2012—we’re still talking about the Cuban Missile Crisis and trying to figure out what really happened, and when you think about the people that were going to do whatever they were told to do, you know, there’s a lot of frighteningness[sic] there, and there is a lot of, Have we gone that far? Or, Are we still in the same place? I kinda think about that occasionally.
McLaughlin
Do you have any other thoughts about Sanford or Seminole County or the Student Museum that you would like to share with us before we…
Richards
I think that the Student Museum is, you know—it—it—it—it’s probably a lot bigger than most people really think. It’s—it’s not a matter of postcards and maps and little things that you can touch or handle, but it’s the notion of where we come from and where we’re going, and will people identify those things in 10 years, in 20 years, in 30 years, and say that, uh—that there was something that was very valuable here? It was something that was very important to a lot of people, and I hope we can still see that, and I hope that that’s, uh, a multicultural thing that—that, uh, everybody can look at and say, “This is—this is where we were, and this is where we are, and lot of good things have taken place.”
McLaughlin
Excellent, and once again, my name is Ian McLaughlin, and I’m interviewing Dr. Storm Richards at his home in Geneva, Florida. Today is Wednesday, the 24th of October, 2012.
See
This is an oral history interview of Serena [Rankin Parks] Fisher. The interview was conducted by MacKenzie See at the [UCF] Public History Center on Augu—er, on October 8th of 2012. Interview topics include experience with the Sanford Student Museum [and Center for the Social Studies] and Public History Center. Okay. Um, what is your name?
Fisher
My name is Serena Parks Fisher.
See
Um, and what is your occupation?
Fisher
My occupation is dilettante. In other words, I’m a retired teacher and I now do things that I enjoy doing. A little of this and a little of that.
See
Um, and how long have you lived in the Sanford[, Florida] area?
Fisher
I don’t live—well, it depends on what you consider the Sanford area. I do not live in Sanford, but I have lived in Seminole County since 1978.
See
Okay, um, how did you become involved with the Public History Center and what is your role here?
Fisher
Okay, uh, um, I’m a little confused about you asking me about the Public History Center, because, uh, my involvement with the Public History Center came as a result of my involvement with the Seminole County Public School[s’] Student Museum, and I was involved with the Student Museum. First, as a social studies teacher in the school district. At the time the museum was created, I was hearing about it, etc., and at that point, every school was asked to submit a display that gave information about their school. Now, that would have been during the time period of [19]85-‘86 and so forth.
Um, then as time went on, I left the social studies classroom, and went into a media center at a middle school, and again, I would hear about groups going to the Student Museum, and then later, I became, uh, the social studies resource teacher for the district, and then from that position, had the opportunity to become the museum specialist, which was the teaching position at the Student Museum, and as such, I was the teacher, curator, what—whatever, and so, uh, I retired in 2000 and went about my merry way just being a volunteer at the Student Museum, until there was a crisis regarding the restoration of the building, and there was some, um, controversy regarding that, and so I was involved as a member of the restoration committee, and then that morphed into, uh, UCF [University of Central Florida] having the agreement with the school district and the Public History Center, and I must say that I could not be more delighted about this relationship between the University of Central Florida Public History Center and what, uh, has taken place with the school district, because I feel now that the Student Museum—Public History Center—will be achieving the goal that it originally was intended to achieve.
See
Um, in what ways do you feel that the Student Museum is important to the community?
Fisher
Well, I feel that the Public History Center and the Student Museum is important to the community—just the building itself. One of the few remaining examples of Romanesque revival architecture—educational architecture—that is, uh, in the state of Florida. So just from an architectural standpoint, I think the building has a special purpose, but I think more importantly, the reason for me that it is so important is that it is a hands-on museum for students coming through, so that they learn by being involved and actually doing work here at the center. I think that for adults in the community, um, in many ways it’s a reminder of what their school days might have been like and also a reminder of things they have heard their family, um, talk about, and I feel something that the Public History Center will be working on now is using the archives here at the Public History Center, so that those who are doing research can find out more about the past in this area. Um, uh, so I think that is more speaking to the building and the interpretive exhibits, uh, here in the building. Uh, I also feel that this is a very unique setting, because of the teaching gardens here, and there are other hands-on museums in [U.S.] National Register [of Historic Places] buildings, but I don’t know of any other that is a hands-on museum in a National Register building and also has the teaching gardens, and I think this is an added dimension here.
See
Um, you were telling me earlier about the three things that you thought were really important about, um…
Fisher
During me my time here?
See
During your time here [laughs], yes. Can you tell me more about those?
Fisher
Okay, I interpreted my job here—as a museum specialist—that I was a teacher—that my job was to work with students every day and to also work with the teachers, uh, and this gave me many opportunities, not only for, uh, elaborating on curriculum, but also in providing for in-services and so forth, but looking back over my time here at the museum, the three things that I am most proud of—that I can say, “Well, this is something tangible that I did,” uh, was seeing that, um, the gardens were established. This was something I wanted to do, and I realized when I was talking to the students in the Native American room[1] about the three sisters and, um, about the plants, the crops that were grown by the Native Americans, or in the Pioneer Room[2] talking about the three G’s—grits, greens, and gravy. I realized that many students did not quite understand about—what I was talking about. “What are these vegetable for?” For them, these things just came from the store in frozen packages or in cans, and so I thought if they could actually see the plants growing, that that would be important, and fortunately there was, in the neighborhood, a master gardener, Walt Paget, who needed to have a project, and therefore, he was the one who actually came, and we worked together in establishing the very first garden, which was more of a pioneer-oriented garden, but I felt that the establishment of the teaching gardens—showing plants, herbs, and also the historic rose garden— that this was a significant, uh, development during my time here, and the other two things may seem trivial, but to me, they made a difference, and one was having the animal sounds in the Native American room. I thought that, with the subdued lighting, that created more of an atmosphere of traveling back in time to a Native American village, and then here in the Turn of the Century Classroom[: Lessons from 1902]—the ticking of the clock. because I realized that many students could—are just accustomed to digital clocks and had never heard a clock ticking, and so we not only have a clock that ticks, but the face of the clock has Roman numerals, which again, served as a teaching tool. So I guess the three things, when I look back on my tenure here as a museum specialist, were the gardens, the animal sounds, and the ticking clock.
See
What’s your favorite story about the Public History Center or the Student Museum?
Fisher
I have many, many [laughs] that I guess would be favorites that are quite different. Um, two immediately come to mind. One involves students. I had the privilege of working with the tea—uh, a teacher of the autistic, uh, students at Eastbrook Elementary [School], and we worked on a curriculum that we would have the students visited once a month throughout the entire school year. I found that most of the students who were coming were not able to communicate with us verbally, but they seemed to have a real appreciation. They could identify items and so on and so forth. So we felt that we were accomplishing something, and then one day, we were in the Pioneer room, and I had brought down the items from the American Girls book that corresponded to the pioneer period or to a pioneer period, and one of the students in the class was examining the items, and he picked up the item and called it by the name in the book—the, uh, American Girls book, and the teacher had told me earlier that he had read all of the books, but they weren’t sure if he were—was really understanding what he had read. He picked up the lunch pail—and the pail was called a “tenet”—and he picked it up and said that word, and the teacher was astounded and she said, “Did you tell him this?” And I said, “No,” and she said, “I did not.” His mother could not believe it, and that’s when the teacher and the mother realized that this student was reading these books and truly was understanding. That was a memorable day.
Another memorable day was a very early morning knock on the door, uh, at the Student Museum, and an older man was there with his wife and asked if he could come in, and he explained that he had just come in on the auto train—uh, was here in Sanford, because of the auto train, and they were headed on into South Florida, but as a child he had lived here in Sanford, and this was his elementary school, and he wanted to show it to his wife. He asked if he might go upstairs to the auditorium, and he began telling his wife about the plays that the students put on here, and that one of the most proud moments in his life was being in a school play, and that his parents had come to the performance, and how proud he felt, and that he was just bursting with pride when he greeted his parents after the play, and they told him—this was in the depths of the [Great] Depression—that this would be his last time at the school—that they had lost their house, and they moved from the area, and he said that they had to move in with relatives in another state, and he went from this high point, where he was feeling so good to—about himself to a point where he felt that he was—he—he didn’t have anything anymore, and he wanted to come back and show his wife this location, where he had once felt so good about himself.
See
Um, did you ever have any students who misbehaved during a field trip [laughs]?
Fisher
Um, it depends on what you call “misbehave.” Um, I dressed in the role of a turn-of-the-century teacher, and I—I—I did not have any real problems. I had some I had to speak to, and, uh, I tend to use a lower voice when I am really serious and really stern, and it worked out.
I think one of my interesting experiences, though, uh, took place when I student came in at lunchtime, and I just—he was joining his class—and I just assumed the student had been to a doctor’s appointment or something like that, and I noticed that the other students were very much interested in talking to him and I thought, Well, you know, maybe it was an unusual appointment or something, but it was at lunch and they were chatting, you know? So that was it, and after lunch, I took the group to Grandma’s Attic, where they had the opportunity to try on clothing and so forth, and, uh, that’s when I realized that the student had been given—at the appointment in the morning—an ankle monitor, and that’s why [laughs] his classmates were very much interested in how his appointment had gone, but it—it was no problem with the child. He cooperated beautifully.
See
Um, how do you see the Public History Center’s role in the community changing, now that it’s open to the public, instead of just for fourth grade field trips?
Fisher
Okay, the key thing there is “open to the public.” Because of very limited staff— it was very difficult to have it open for extended hours, and working under the school district, we could not have the public in when students were here, and so that meant there were just limited opportunities for the public to come. I now see this for—as an opportunity for, uh, people from all over whether they’re coming in by auto train or the airport or, uh, wherever—having the opportunity to visit here, because of the extended hours and the fact that the, um, Public History Center will be open on the weekend.
I also envision that there will be learning opportunities—special programs for adults here, and I had mentioned one that I hope—I would love to see it develop—um, where there was to be a workshop here for adults, where they would be given the opportunity to start writing down their own personal history—their own life story, [air conditioner turns on] and I think that this would be an ideal setting for that, because there are so many visual props that would remind them of episodes in their own life, that they might want to jot down these stories and pass on.
Now, we’re probably being distracted by the sound of the air conditioner, but that points out [laughs] a challenge now, but it also points out something special about this building—that the building itself can be used as a teaching tool, with the wonderful windows, and how they were used for light, as well as ventilation, and how the design of the building was also used to take advantage of cross- ventilation, but we obviously have a very loud air conditioner.
See
[laughs] Um, do you have a favorite room in the museum?
Fisher
I guess, being a teacher, this Turn of the Century Classroom is my absolute favorite room. Uh, I feel very much at home here, and, um, I have very happy memories of teaching in this room. I have very happy memories of teaching in other areas, but I’m the daughter of a teacher, and in many ways this reminds me of things my mother would tell me about.
See
Um, do students seem to get more out of some rooms in the museum than others, or does it just depend on the student, or all the rooms equally valuable?
Fisher
It depends on the students, and it depends on the preparation they have had before they had come here. I think, for me, the beauty of the hands-on experience is that students, who might not excel at the written word or reading in the traditional classroom, all can do very well here because of hands-on and verbal participation, but, um, I think—I think it depends on the student’s own interests, and, uh, again, it probably has a lot to do with the enthusiasm of the guide who is showing them the particular area. That might be a factor, as well.
See
Um, what advice would you give people who want to volunteer at the museum?
Fisher
Do it. Uh, the beauty of the Public History Center is that there are so many volunteer opportunities, not just for working with the students. Now, the main[?] one that I found most rewarding was working with the students and the exchange—the interaction—but there are jobs that are needed to be done behind the scenes. Whether it is inventorying the suitcases or books, or whether it is working with the archives, or whether it is working as a gardener in the teaching gardens. I think that there is—or a greeter. Oh, that is a wonderful job for someone who enjoys people, but really does not want to, uh, work with the students in the instructional program. That is a wonderful opportunity. So I really—that there is something here for everyone, and so, if someone is a little tentative about volunteering, I would suggest that they come and tour, and say, “Alright. This is what I like to do. What can I do to help you?”
See
Um, if you could describe your ideal future for the Public History Center and the Student Museum, what would it be?
Fisher
[laughs] For the instructional program to continue for fourth graders, but also for that program to be expanded, and again, during the time, I was here, I had the opportunity—we had year-round school. We had multi-age classes—that was a phase that the district was going through. I especially enjoyed working with the multi-age classes, because that meant that students came here one year and then they would come the following year, and so we could do different things. I also liked working with teachers on special programs, and I think this is where the Public History Center, working with UCF students, could do a great deal—is working with teachers collaborating—using the resources here at the Public History Center—to develop special programs. I would like to see more in-service staff development done with, um, teachers here. So that teachers, who are required to do certificate renewal, could take a course here at the Public History Center. Again, going back to what I had mentioned about community programs—and I hope that someday there is an elevator, so that we aren’t limited in the use of the auditorium and use of the, um, second level, but I just see this more as a very active center in the community and—where all of us can learn about changes in education and innovation in the education.
See
Um, what do you think is the ideal age for students to come to the Student Museum? I mean, we’ve heard about the fourth grade field trip. Is—is that about the ideal age or…
Fisher
Oh, I think it depends on what you are offering. I think that, uh, the fourth grade fit in with the Florida curriculum, but again, depending on what the teacher might be doing—or special programs that could be developed. You see, uh, at one time there was an eighth grade program here as well, and, um, due to budget cuts and so forth, that program had to be eliminated, and also, there were problems scheduling with the middle school schedule, but, um, I—and I have had the opportunity again with year-round education to work with senior high students. So this is the beauty of this facility. It can be taught at so many different levels, depending on where you’re putting your focus.
See
Um…
Fisher
I think everyone should come here and, as I said, I am delighted at the potential that I am seeing, the enthusiasm with those from UCF, uh, in transforming this into a Public History Center, and I’m delighted that the public will now have greater access to this facility.
See
Um, I’ve heard that the Public History Center serves—or has served—a lot of other purposes in the community, other than just as a museum and a teaching facility. I even heard a story about someone getting married here. Um, do you have any experiences with it in other capacities, other than as just the, uh, museum?
Fisher
Well, I was not involved with someone getting married here, but I know that it has been open, thanks to the Sanford Historic Trust, several years ago inviting the museum to be part of the annual tour. It was opened for that. So for—that would be more of a social, um, learning experience too, but I—I really do not know beyond that. I know students always want to know about ghosts. “Are there ghosts here at the Student Museum?” But I, um, don’t know about that.
See
Well, speaking of ghosts, um, do you have a favorite aspect of the history of this place? I mean, as a school, as Sanford Grammar, or, um…
Fisher
Uh, no. I do not. Uh, I think that could definitely be addressed by students who came here, and something that I found very rewarding was when reunion groups from what had been Sanford High School and now is Seminole High School, when they would have their reunions and request that the museum be open on the weekend, so that they could come back and visit. I enjoyed hearing the stories of that and since I had no grown up in the Sanford community. Um, I learned a lot from that, but, um, no. Nothing else I don’t think.
See
Um, so I’ve heard that there are a lot, um, of seasonal celebrations that take place here, um, especially around fall and things like that. Do you—do you go to those? Or…
Fisher
Well, in the past, I have volunteered with those, and, um, one of the favorite celebrations—it depends on how the, uh, calendar goes—is the Spring Fest around May Day, because when this was Sanford Grammar School, the May Day celebration was a major celebration for students here, and so—for several years, the Spring Fest has included that dancing of the May Pole, and that was of appeal to those who had gone here remembering their days as students.
See
Um, we’ve talked a lot about school-age children coming to the Student Museum and Public History Center. Um, is there a minimum age where it’s appropriate to bring children?
Fisher
Uh, I think it depends on the parents, who would be bringing them. Um, uh, I would think that a child from, I would say, maybe three on—although we have had them in strollers and so forth coming through, but, um, I—I think it depends on—are you talking about them coming just to visit the building, just to see the building or to participate in a program? I—I would think that three would be about the youngest, but it depends on the parents, and, um, what the children have been exposed to before.
See
Um, what about adults coming here? I mean, I know Student Museum sort of implies that it’s only for children, but do you think there’s something for adults also?
Fisher
Oh, absolutely, and, um, again, uh—going back to things that I remember—um, I remember, um, an adult friend of mine bringing her mother here, and the mother, uh, was quite elderly and had limited vision, but coming into this classroom and hearing the sound of the footsteps on the hardwood pine floor and so forth, and the ticking of the clock, and just feeling the chalkboards and so forth, brought back memories of her school days, and the mother just began sharing these stories that the daughter had never heard. So I think that this is a multi-generational location. Student Museum—remember that its origins are with the Seminole County Public Schools, so I think that that is larger, but there was another part to that name. It was the School Board of Seminole County’s Student Museum and Center for the Social Studies, and this goes back to the point that I was—wanted to make earlier—was that I think with, um, UCF now and with the emphasis on public history, that this is going to be more of a center for social studies and for adults to be involved.
See
Alright. Thank you so much for talking to me.
Fisher
Okay, thank you.
Mikler
Well, the—in the early 19—around the 1900, there was a great immigration to America from Europe [clears throat], and my parents came to—as most Slovak immigrants came—they came into New York Harbor and then went wherever they could.
So they organized—the group organized what they called “the Slavia Colony Company.” And they sent a delegation to Florida—the company did—to find a location for a new settlement. A small group came to Florida and settled here.[1] And they settled here somewhere around 1911, and, um, most of those people were poor folks. They were used to farming, so they had farming on their mind[sic]. They knew how to farm better than most other things, so this is how the colony originated.
Now, the building we’re sitting in right now didn’t look like this then, but the first [St. Luke’s Lutheran] Church was built about 1925. This is it. I—I keeps[sic] coming back to this. You can’t separate our community from the church, ‘cause the church—the Lord was important to all, and—and that was—not that we were saints. We’re sinners like everybody, but the Lord meant something to us, and still does to us today.
The—the first settlers had difficulty finding a crop—a cash crop—that would be a money crop, you see? Uh, they tried different things, but not knowing the weather, soil conditions, and so forth, they made a lot of mistakes. There were disasters, and so it was not until the—I’d say the middle- to late- [19]20s when celery was introduced and celery became the big cop.
And just a case in point: this happened in the 40s. Judge [R. W.] Ware, the County Judge of Seminole County, spoke to the Oviedo PTA [Parent-Teacher Association], and this is some of what he said: he said, “Folks, you know, if—if all Seminole County was like the Oviedo community”—now, we’re talking about Oviedo, Slavia, Chuluota, and Goldenrod, and Wagner, the long—the—he said, “I’d be out of a job.” Now, what’s the moral to that? People did the right thing and crime was insignificant.
Well, believe it or not, when I was a teenager, my cousin had—a few people had automobiles. I remember getting the first [Ford] Model T, and I was about the happiest person in the world, riding on the back of that Model T. That wasn’t riding a wagon. It was different, but then later, as we grew up as teenagers, I remember we’d go and get a car from the [inaudible], and go to town, and park on the street, and watch people walk by. We’d buy us about 10 cents worth of bananas, which is about 15 or 20 pounds, you might say [laughs].
I remember when [Florida State Road] 426 was dirt, and going to Orlando, on a wagon, you got up early in the morning, and it would take all day to get to Orlando and back home before darkness, and that was some—some experience. There were no public restrooms. If you got thirsty, you had to carry your own water. It was just a different world. In fact, I remember between Winter Park and Orlando, there were very few homes. Lake Ivanhoe was a wooded lake. It was just woods there. [inaudible] water in[?] the horse on Lake Ivanhoe.
And some of you may not believe this, but you could go today in [inaudible] grocery store—the big one, you know? And they—the housewife—whoever was shipping—would take the list to the counter, and the storekeeper would take the order. If you wanted five pounds of sugar, he’d go the shelves, get five pounds of sugar, bring it back. “What else? Five cans of beans?” He’d bring that, and so that was sort of different from today, and then when Papa took us once a year to the Slemons [Department Store], the big store on Church Street, right on—off of Orange Avenue. Uh, Papa would tell Mr. [William Melville] Slemons, “Here’s the family. Dress ‘em up.” So we got our new shirts, pants, suit, cap, shoes, and all that, and that was quite an experience. The whole family went shopping. You see that today? I don’t think so.
Unidentified
[laughs].
Mikler
[laughs]. I think the worst influence we ever had in the history of the world is drugs—the cocaine, and this sort of stuff. This—I feel for kids, I feel for parents, ‘cause I know some of the finest people I know have had cases of that, and—and it’s hard—it’s hard—it’s a hard problem to face, but we must face it squarely, and most people in America—early America—immigrants and otherwise—had to do it [inaudible]—do it themselves. The government was not involved in these things. He said they took Bible and prayer out of school, and they gave prostitution, cocaine, and alcohol, and pornography. That’s how he started his sermon. Now, he was on the money, wasn’t he?
Well, one thing I—as a coach, I couldn’t stand—I don’t think I’d allow a player who put a helmet on with hair longer than girl’s hair, but that…
Unidentified
[laughs].
Mikler
I couldn’t stand [laughs]. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stand it. I’m afraid we’re coming to an age, where it’s almost me first. Case in point: when I was teaching, uh, I could ask boys to help move the piano or to help the school do a job, and I’d have volunteers coming. No one asked for any money. It was all voluntarily and they did it with a smile. The later years, it wasn’t so. They said, “Coach, whatcha payin’?” You know, that’s—that’s what we’re into today.
It’s hard to say what’s coming, but I can see a great change between, uh, family and community and state and nation. So the family unit— I’m afraid—and our modern civilization, uh—it’s a different—it’s a more difficult world to live in. The future, I hope will be good, but it just depends on how we are willing to discipline ourselves and—and accept absolutes. It’s easy to do wrong, it’s hard to do right, and we gotta make the choices. We have that choice.
[1] Oviedo, Florida.
Dombrowski
This is an interview with Bette Skates, the church historian for Holy Cross Episcopal Church in Sanford. This interview is being conducted on July 8, 2010,[1] at the Museum of Seminole County History. Interviewer is Diana Dombrowski, representing the museum for the Historical Society of Central Florida.
Skates
Good.
Dombrowski
I just have some basic questions first. Your name is Bette Skates, but where and when were you born?
Skates
I was born in Philadelphia[, Pennsylvania] in 1933.
Dombrowski
Oh, wow. What brought your family to Florida?
Skates
My father’s ill health, which is what brings most people to Florida back in the day.
Dombrowski
Yeah. That’s true. When did you move here? Did you grow up in Central Florida?
Skates
I moved to Sanford in 1944.
Dombrowski
Oh, okay. What was it like? Could you describe it? Was it very big? Was it busy?
Skates
Sanford was a railroad town. And my father worked for the railroad—is the reason, besides the fact that his health was not good, and he needed to get out of the North. And he was a Georgia boy to begin with. So he wanted to come south. And so when he had this opportunity to work for the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad, at the freight station, he was very eager to accept the job. We came in on a train that they call the—well, there’s two of them. One was the Orange Blossom Special, and the other was the Champion. And this was the passenger train from the North—from Philadelphia and New York. All points north.
When we came into the station, my mother had never—well, yes. Mother had been south before, but we hadn’t, as children—very young children. I was ten—nine or ten. And when we pulled into the station and got off the train, the humidity hit us like it was going to knock us out. And I said, “Oh. Let’s get back on the train.”[laughs].
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
And that was before air—trains were air-conditioned too, but—but it was still cooler on the train.
Dombrowski
Wow.
Skates
So my dad said, you know, “This is nothing. This is fine. This feels wonderful. Get used to it.”
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
[laughs]And my mother—she’s just kind of being quiet and fanning herself. We had this—it—it was the old station that was on—on Ninth Street, and they’ve since torn it down.
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
On Ninth and, uh—well, it was just Ninth Street. I guess there was side street, but I don’t recall. right off of French Avenue. Because then the tracks still all—we still had tracks running all over downtown.
Dombrowski
Hmm.
Skates
They’re—they’re not there now, because back in the day, when trains first came in—all of the wharves and the produce—everything came in to downtown to the river. So, um, we had—let me get back to my story. So we got off the train and my sister and I—and she was a year younger than I am—and we both started—“Something smells funny. What is it?” My dad said, “Oh, that’s sulfur water! Oh, come over here, girls!” He says. “Come over here!” And here’s a water fountain, right up against the train station. I think it was a brick train station. Right there, it’s all green inside, where the water is coming out. And we’re looking at this saying, “Oh, this smells so bad!” You know. We’re holding our noses, and he’s getting very annoyed with us. “Take a taste of that water. That’s healthy water. That’s better than drinking that Schuylkill River water you’ve been drinking in Philadelphia.” Of course, my mother is being as she always is—long-suffering. And she said, “Well, they can taste it if they want to.” We tasted it and we almost gagged! Sulfur water—the first time you ever taste it, is horrible. You do get used to it. And you do realize that it is healthy.
Dombrowski
Okay.
Skates
But, it’s all the water fountains in the city. And there were water fountains in the parks, and there was one in front of the [First] Baptist Church [of Sanford], and different places. They were all over town. And they were all sulfur water.
Dombrowski
Wow.
Skates
So you did get used to it.
Dombrowski
Oh my goodness. So was the smell everywhere too?
Skates
Everywhere. Sulfur smells like rotten eggs.
Dombrowski
It does. Yeah. I remember we went to the [Ponce de Leon’s] Fountain of Youth [Archaeological Park] and they were giving it out, you know.
Skate
Yes, yes. But it’s supposed to be good for you. So, we got off the train there. And we—I think we took a cab, because we didn’t have a car at that time. And we went to an apartment my father had rented. And I guess I need to say this too, because these are the things that people that haven’t lived here don’t understand or can’t get used to. When we got to the apartment—we had an upstairs apartment. A lovely old two-story house in Sanford just two blocks from where I live now, by the way. And the whole upstairs—this was during the war—and every house in Sanford had been made into apartments and efficiencies, because the Navy base[2] was here, and housing was a premium.
As we started to go up the stairs, and on the porch was a burlap sack that had something in it. My dad said to me, “Bette, grab that bag and bring it upstairs.” We had our suitcase and everything. I went to pick up the bag, and roaches came out of the bag. They were flying roaches and they were flying all over. I don’t know how many. It might have been two, but it seemed like a hundred. Of course, I dropped it and screamed and had a hissy fit, a good Southern expression. Someone had left a bag of oranges there for us. And, so roaches, of course—so that was my introduction to Sanford.
The apartment was lovely and it was cool with oak trees. Of course, I found out that oak trees breed roaches too, so we had roaches flying in the windows and things like that. Yeah, like the water, and the humidity—you try to get used to it. I don’t think I ever got used to the roaches. But that was my introduction to Sanford.
Dombrowski
How long did you live in the apartment?
Skates
We lived there for four years, and then my mom bought a house. And my father was ill. I mean, he was very ill, and he knew he was dying. My mother opened a beauty shop downtown, just in 1956, because she knew that she was going to have to support the family. He died in ’56. So she had her beauty shop for 25-30 years in Downtown Sanford.
Dombrowski
That’s really nice.
Skates
She’s the one that could tell the stories [laughs].
Dombrowski
Okay [laughs].How has Sanford changed when you were growing up there? It was a big railroad town, and your mother, it seems, was there for a very long time. Did you see it get busier? Or develop more?
Skates
Yes, development. The stores that I remember, as growing up, are—I was trying to think if there are any that are still downtown. But, coming from a big city, it was very nice that we could walk everywhere. Ride bicycles.
We went to school at the grammar school and then at Seminole High School, which was just up not too far from my house. I mean, everything was convenient. It was very nice. It was a good, homey feeling, and everybody was friendly. It was a very nice place to grow up, I think. And the schools—my father did not think much of the schools, but then again, in the South, schools hadn’t really caught up by that time. It took quite a few years for them to catch up to what we had been used to. But it, you know, was a nice place to grow up. Very nice.
Dombrowski
That’s—that’s nice [laughs].
Skates
[laughs] Yeah.
Dombrowski
What was it like for your mother to set up the beauty shop? Was it very difficult? Or…
Skates
It was very difficult. My grandparents—her mother and father—had lived in Philadelphia. And they had, um—they sold their property up there and came down, just after my dad died, to live with my mother. I know—to help her. We didn’t realize it, at the time, but, um—and they helped her with finances for the beauty shop
Dombrowski
Okay.
Skates
So that was—it was very nice. And they lived with us actually, until they both died. They lived with my mother. Um, So that was, um—that was the way she could do what she did. The beauty shop was, um—what—what she would charge for what—for the work she did—I wish I had a price list. But I remember one time, she said something about a dollar and quarter for a manicure. We all said, “Is that all?” She said, “If I had charged a dollar and a half, they wouldn’t come back.”
Dombrowski
Oh, wow.
Skates
So, I mean, the prices were—were—were really…
Dombrowski
Different.
Skates
Different.
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
[laughs] Yeah. Yeah. So yeah. But it was her—her hopes[?]—her beauty shop was in the Montezuma Hotel, which that building has burned down since…
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
Then. It was a big hotel that was built here in the 1880s.
Dombrowski
Hmm.
Skates
It was about four blocks from the river, and People would get off the steam ships and walk up the little hill and—to the hotel. It was called the “Bye Lo Hotel,” at the time—I mean, at that time. It was later changed to the Montezuma. But it was—when Mother had the beauty shop there, it was a little spooky
Dombrowski
Really?
Skates
It was old, you know?
Dombrowski
Yeah.
Skates
And—and there’s a lot of people who still lived there. But, uh, it burned down a few years ago. [inaudible]…
Dombrowski
Hmm.
Skates
About 12 years ago, I guess. So, uh, that was—that was a loss, but it was the first hotel in Sanford that had a swimming pool. Maybe the only…
Dombrowski
Oh, wow.
Skates
One. It was in the basement…
Dombrowski
Oh, okay.
Skates
Of the hotel.
Dombrowski
That would be cool.
Skates
Yeah.
Dombrowski
Yeah.
Skates
So that was neat. Later, they, uh, put a furnace in the swimming pool and didn’t use that anymore. I never saw the swimming pool with water in it.
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
I did see it with a furnace in it.
Dombrowski
Oh [laughs].
Skates
But, uh, um…
Dombrowski
Um, Where did you go to school? Did you go to college?
Skates
Yes.
Dombrowski
Okay.
Skates
I did. I went to Stetson University, um…
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
I started at Stetson in 19well, let’s see. I was going to OJC—Orlando—it was Orlando Junior College. I went there for a while, and then I went to Stetson. It took me—I—I figured this out one time, but I don’t remember. Let’s see. 70—It took me about—I hate to say too much, because I—I—it took me a long time to graduate. I got married when I was 18.
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
I went to college, and I spent three months at Middle Georgia College, up in, uh, Cochran, Georgia. My cousins, uh—my dad’s sister wanted their daughter to go, and she wouldn’t go. She was homesick. And they said, “Well, if Bette would come and go with her, she would go.” So I went there, and I spent three months. Had a wonderful time. Made the Dean’s List. Was just doing fine, except I had a boyfriend, and I was in love
Dombrowski
Aww [laughs].
Skates
[laughs]. And my moth—the woman’s—the—the—the boy’s mother kept saying, “Well, I was married when I was 18,” So I decided that it was good enough for her, it was good enough for me. So I married him. So…
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
I went to college in between having my children.
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
Every time I could get, uh—I could find some money, or get a loan, or—there—there were student loans—there were [Federal] Pell Grants we could get. They—Loans were much easier to get in those days, so I could get student loan. So I would go to school for a while and then I would get pregnant again. And then I’d…
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
Go to school for a while and then I would get pregnant again.
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
This went on until 1964—well, it—let’s see when. I don’t remember how many years. But I finally started teaching when I was—when it was, um—it was 1965, I think.
Dombrowski
Oh, okay.
Skates
So it took me a long time to get certified to teach, but I did. And then I taught for 30 years in Seminole County.
Dombrowski
Wow.
Skates
Yeah. Which has been exciting.
Dombrowski
How many children did you have?
Skates
I have four children.
Dombrowski
Oh, okay.
Skates
Yeah. So I was kind of spacing this. Finally—I might want to censor this—finally about 1968, my husband got tired of it. Anybody, I guess, could understand that. He said—he didn’t sign on for that. So that was alright. But we managed, very well, and thank goodness I had my education so I could support my family. So it was good.
Dombrowski
So you taught in the school system for 30 years. What was it like in the 60’s? What was integration like?
Skates
My first 10 years, I taught out in Geneva [Elementary School].
Dombrowski
Oh, I like Geneva.
Skates
Oh, I love Geneva. I still hear from those kids. They’re great. Of course, they’re not kids. They’re grown. It was wonderful. It was probably the best teaching assignment you could have for a beginning teacher. Because by that time, I was 35 when I started teaching.
I was trying to think of how to put this. The schools had not been integrated much at that time. I don’t remember the year that I had the first black student, but I had a sweet boy. Now I was teaching fifth grade. He had come up through the grades. There was only five grades—five classrooms—at Geneva.
And the first year that I taught there, I taught in the auditorium, because there was no place. So what they did was take out the first couple rows of seats and let us set the classroom up right in front of the stage. Which was good until I got a couple of kids that were a little bit older than they should have been in fifth grade—a boy and a girl. And next thing I knew, they were behind the stage, and I had to go get them. They were good kids, and they really didn’t do anything bad, I don’t think. But I would have been in big trouble.
But anyway, the first black child I had—I was going to say I’ll never forget his name, and I did. What a sweetheart he was [laughs].
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
But he was just testing. He was testing us, going to see if the system was going to work. He was a nice kid. Good parents. If I called his parents before he left school, by the time he got off the bus at home, they were back at the school to see what he had done or hadn’t done. Because he didn’t like to do homework and he didn’t like to do class work. Guess he had just been allowed to get away with more than he should have. But he wasn’t used to me. Anyway, he was a nice kid. Yeah, it was interesting, and the children we had at Geneva—the black and the white children—were I think just the salt of the earth. I mean they were really good people. Parents were country folks, most of them at that time. Now, later on, when UCF [University of Central Florida] opened, we started getting a different group of children. Their parents were more educated. They were professors and people that worked at the college. And so by the time I left Geneva, it had changed a good bit.
My two younger boys, I brought with me to Geneva, so I taught two of my own children in fifth grade. Which was—everybody says, “How is it working?” I said, “It works fine.” No problem. They were good kids to begin with. It worked out. It was fine. That was good too, because, that was, at the time, in Sanford. My two older children—there were a lot of problems at schools in Sanford, with the integration. They started busing—I don’t remember the year. When I was going to Geneva, my daughter was being bused to what used to be an all-black high school—Crooms High School—which they did just to integrate. And that was wrong. Because the kids—the black kids were not happy, the white kids were not happy. And the black teachers and the white teachers were all upset about it, but they were busing the kids across town. So I’m driving to Geneva ten miles away and my daughter is in a bus driving across the city, and I don’t know where she is and what’s happening. It was worrisome. But it all worked out. It just took time and a lot of patience on both sides. It should never have been separate to begin with, but we have to fix our mistakes.
Dombrowski
So tensions were high?
Skates
Very high.
Dombrowski
Was it ever violent?
Skates
Yeah. There was violence. A lot of it was threatened. You know, just like, if you go down this street, we’re going to throw rocks at the bus and things like that. That was very worrisome. And my oldest son, when he was in ninth—and well, high school. It was ninth grade at Crooms. But when he was in ninth grade and tenth grade—all through school, he was a big boy, and had red hair. And it was a novelty. He got a lot of—he did his best to stay out of trouble, but trouble came to him. And of course, he tells me now he got blamed for a lot of things he didn’t do, but I’m not going to go there. You know how kids are. Anyway, he hung in there. His high school experiences were very bad. Very bad. Yeah. It was real sad. But my daughter didn’t seem to have the problems. She was also redheaded, but she seemed to go with the flow easier. He was a target. You know, a big guy. But he’s not a fighter. He didn’t want to fight, but anyway. We got through it [laughs].
Dombrowski
Good [laughs].Did you all live in Sanford at the time? Did you drive to Geneva and back?
Skates
I drove to Geneva. Yeah. I bought the house that I’m still living in, in 1958.
Dombrowski
Wow.
Skates
Yeah. So I raised my family there. And just last couple years ago, we celebrated our 50th—I said, I’ll never have a golden wedding anniversary—so we celebrated our golden anniversary living in the house. So the kids got together and each one did something. But anyway, they have a photograph of the house framed in a beautiful frame that my grandson found when he was working for the College Hunks Hauling Junk. He found a frame and on the bottom of it my daughter wrote in gold, “Thanks for the memories.” So it’s very nice. I have it hanging over the piano. It’s very nice.
Dombrowski
That’s wonderful. So it’s downtown?
Skates
Yes. It’s downtown. If you go—First Street is the street where all the commerce is, where the business is. I live between Eleventh [Street] and Twelfth [Street] on Park Avenue. And Park Avenue’s the main street that goes down to the lakefront, and used to be [U.S. Route] 17-92 back in the day. That is where traffic went through the town. It’s in the historic district.
The house was built in 1924. It’s probably more than anybody wants to know, but it’s called a “Craftsman Airplane Bungalow.” Because the upstairs is one room, and a bathroom, and it has 12 windows all the way around. So it looks like you’re looking out airplane windows. You’re not. They’re regular windows, but anyway, that’s what it’s called.
Dombrowski
That sounds really cool. I love Craftsman style.
Skates
Yes. It’s really nice. I have pillars on that house that are real unique. They’re made out of coquina.
Dombrowski
Wow.
Skates
Yeah. My fireplace—the chimney is made out of coquina. And it’s much higher than the first floor. It goes up past the second floor, because the second floor is sitting kind of in the middle of the house. It’s really neat. You’ll have to come see me.
Dombrowski
This sounds like a real Florida house.
Skates It is a real Florida house. Yeah. For a good many years we didn’t have air conditioning, so we had what they called an “attic fan” that’s up in the second floor attic. When you turn it on and you open a window in each room, one window—it sucks the cool night air in and keeps the house cool. Only it slams doors, you have to be real careful, because doors get sucked. You get slamming doors all day. But it was neat. I don’t remember being miserable.
Dombrowski
Well, good.
Skates
I don’t remember being exactly hot. So it must have worked.
Dombrowski
Were you a member of the church since you moved here?
Skates
No. We were Lutheran when we first moved here. My sister and I had both been confirmed in the Lutheran Church in Philadelphia. And so I convinced my husband that he should join the Lutheran church, and so we went as a family until he left. And well, the kids were teenagers, and you know how hard it is to get teenagers to go to church. So I just decided that I had always loved the [Holy Cross] Episcopal Church, and I loved the architecture, and the history, and Jesus. I’m sorry, Jesus. I get carried away. But so we—my daughter and I, and my youngest son—all joined the Episcopal church. My two older sons were not interested. But they were grown by that time, and I didn’t feel like I could force them to do that. They had to want to do that. And I’m still a member.
But how I got the job as historian, I made the mistake of correcting someone. You know how when someone says, “Oh, it was 1873—2, or something?” I said, “No. it was ’73.” “We need a historian. You’re—you’re it. You’re going to do it.” [laughs].
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
I said, Oh, my gosh. I should keep my mouth shut. [laughs].
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
But I love it. I’ve been doing this since, um, [20]04.
Dombrowski
Wow. Okay.
Skates
Yeah. So the church, they said, had no written history. I’ve—I’ve found all kinds of stuff, so it’s—I’ve collected it. I’ve got it together. I write a news, uh, article each month for our church newsletter that goes out every month, telling, you know, whatever it is I found out recently about the church. And so it’s—it’s a good thing. I enjoy it.
Dombrowski
Could you speak a little about the church? When it was founded, you know?
Skates
Yes,. This was General [Henry Shelton] Sanford’s church. When General Sanford—Henry Sheldon Sanford—came to this area in 1870—probably 1870. It was after the Civil War, and he was trying, as a lot of—I don’t want to call them “carpetbaggers,” but some people do. A lot of people—wealthy northerners—came down and tried to make their fortune, or another fortune. He had been ambassador to Belgium. They called him a liaison. Liaison? That doesn’t sound right. Well, anyway, yeah. I guess he was. But he also was a spy for the Union Army during the war—the Civil War.
Dombrowski
Oh, my goodness.
Skates
And he was traveling around going to different foreign capitals, trying to get some of those countries to send ammunition and guns to the North. So there’s a whole big story that I haven’t even started on of his spying for the North. But when he finished up with that job—I guess he retired from that job, because he was probably in his 50s then, I think. He married a beautiful lady. She was living in Belgium, but she was from the United States. The Sanford Museum has a huge, gorgeous painting of the home they lived in, in Belgium. It looks like a small—like maybe the Queen might have had that summer home, or something. It was beautiful. We have friends in Sanford that have visited that area and that house, and they’re using that house as a retreat for nuns now. Anyway, General Henry Sanford—he became a general, because he gave some cannons to the state of Minnesota, because he wanted a title. So the Governor of Minnesota [Alexander Ramsey] made him a general.
So, anyway, let’s see. Let me get back to the church. So he bought a lot of land down on the lakefront. He was right for his time, that Sanford—and of course it wasn’t called Sanford in those days) —that this area, Mellonville, was going to be the “Gateway to South Florida.” Because all supplies—food, you know, everything that people need to start up a homestead—they would have to buy in Sanford. So he had a lumber mill. Somebody else had a grocery store. I mean they had all things people, you know, the pioneers, would need.
He bought orange trees from all over, and he planted orange trees. One of his groves—his first grove [St. Gertrude’s Grove] —was downtown right on the lakefront where there’s apartment buildings and city hall and things there now. Citrus didn’t do too well there. The soil apparently wasn’t good enough, and so they moved out to what he called Belair [Grove], and that’s out towards Lake Mary, around the lakes. So, his Belair Groves[sic] were very profitable.
About 1873, he decided that there needed to be a church. He and his wife, Gertrude [Dupuy Sanford]—now, Gertrude didn’t come here much, because this was not her cup of tea. And when you see pictures of her as a young girl, she’s absolutely beautiful. Beautiful clothes, and very high class. And they had about five children and they were all born in Europe. She didn’t come here often. But he planted Belair in orange and lemon trees. He had a grove manager whose name was Reverend Lyman Phelps. General Sanford was from Connecticut. And he convinced this Episcopal priest to come down to start a church. Well, he did, but he also made Lyman Phelps his agent and his farm grove manager, because the man had a background in botany too. The man was very, uh,—he was very versatile.
When, um—when General Sanford—I call him “General Sanford”. A lot of people say he—he doesn’t deserve that title, but it just comes easy to me, for some reason. It—it denotes a lot of the things that he did, other than just being Henry Sanford. Um, so they started to build this church, and Mrs. Sanford wrote to all of her wealthy friends, and in her letters, she said, “Please, um, help us build our dear little church.” And that was her—the way she called it—their “dear little church” in San—in—in this city. Someone, finally, along the line—a friend of his daughter—[inaudible] said—said, “Well, we should call this city ‘Sanford,’ after you, Mr. Sanford.” And Mr. Sanford said, “Ha. What a good idea.”
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
[laughs]. And I don’t remember the years that that was—that was started. But, so anyway, by 1873, they had completed the church. Lyman Phelps and Reverend Holeman—H-O-L-E-M-A-N—um, were priests there. And they had, um, services that—these priests—I—when I read their—in the diocesan records, there’s—they had to keep records of what trips they went on and where they went. They rode horses, walked—horse and buggy—through Florida sand, which anybody that walks through it knows that—there was[sic] highways. The only way you went were by animal, you know, roads, where animals, or maybe the Indians, had made them. Um, they went to, um—but they went all over Central Florida. They went to Eustis, to Longwood, to Orlando. They started the St. Luke’s Church in Orlando, which is now the Cathedral [Church of St. Luke]. They went all over Central Florida, uh, especially Lyman Phelps. Um, But he—they were, um—it just amazes me, when I read their exploits, and the alligators…
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
You know, the mosquitoes, the—oh, my soul. But, um, anyway, so that’s how the—the Episcopal church got its start. That church—that was built in 1873. 1880, along comes—and they called it a “tornado,” and I haven’t been able to say that it wasn’t, but I think it was more like a hurricane, and maybe a tornado—a tornado was [inaudible]. It blew down Mrs. Sanford’s dear little church.
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
And we have pictures of it. And the—the steeple is laying on the ground, and the church is still standing, but it’s—it’s—it’s damaged. So they got busy. Mrs. Sanford raised some more money, and by, um, 1880, they had built another—well, yeah. It was 1873. By 1880, the church blew down. By 1881, they had a new church built. That church survived until 1923, and it burned down.
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
So they—1924 and ’25, they rebuilt it. So the church standing on that property is still on the same property that Sanford gave us. That church now was built, uh, in 19—1924, it was completed. It’s, uh, what they call “Spanish Mediterranean” [Architecture]. It’s…
Dombrowski
Oh.
Skates
Very Spanish-looking. It’s a very pretty church.
Dombrowski
Where is it?
Skates
It’s on the corner of Fourth—Park Avenue and Fourth Street.
Dombrowski
Okay.
Skates
And the parish hall was built by 1926. So one of the things I always thought was interesting, when they first built—or probably the second church—in the side where they had some room, they put orange trees so that in case times were bad, they would have some money. They would have a way of getting money still.
Dombrowski
Aw.
Skates
That was kind of interesting.
Dombrowski
Um,I do have a question. I don’t know much about the church in Sanford. Is it the main church for the city? Are most of the people in Sanford Episcopalian?
Skates
No, no. They’re not. Probably back in the day, it was the only church, but then of course, the South is mostly Methodist and Baptist. And right now the street—Park Avenue should have been called “Church Street.” Because there’s the Episcopal—well, first, a block closer to the lake was the Congregational church. But since they’ve moved that—they tore it down and moved down Park Avenue. The next church was Holy Cross. Then, next door to us is the [First United] Methodist Church [of Sanford]. Right next door to that is the [First] Baptist Church [of Sanford].
So on Sunday mornings, we used to have a real traffic jam down there. Not so much anymore. No, Holy Cross—I think it’s like all the churches. They’re struggling. But we’re still here. We have two services, an 8 o’clock service and a 10 o’clock service. If we had everybody at 10 o’clock, we would have a good crowd. But when you separate it into two—the people who go at 8 o’clock won’t come at 10. The people who come at 10 o’clock won’t go at 8 o’clock. So our priest does two services. And yeah, it’s a busy little church. We have a fairly good-sized Sunday school, considering Sunday schools are hard for churches these days too. So, probably at one time it was the center of the area, church-wise, but not anymore.
Dombrowski
In your time as a historian there, have you—reading through the documents and that sort of thing, have you noticed any trends in how many members they had? Like when UCF came, did more people come to the church?
Skates
It was the biggest—the largest crowds that we have ever had was through the war years when we had a Navy base in Sanford. And that started up as a training base for carrier—for planes to land on carriers. I’m not as familiar with the history of the Navy base, but it closed at the end of World War II, and it was a big drop in the congregation. But then when [the] Korea[n War] came back, they started the base up again. And a lot of those people too have been Navy people—very sophisticated—have been all over the world. Lived in many different places.
So those are the people we seem to pull in more than the people that grew up here. Most Southern people are Baptist. My dad’s family—they were all Baptist. But it’s different. Different churches suit different people. I mean, you want whatever it is that makes you feel the presence, or that you feel that you need, that’s where you should be. So I’m very ecumenical. I can, um, belong to any church you want to [laughs]. But Holy Cross is lovely. And the services are beautiful [laughs].
Dombrowski
Uh, how involved has the church been in the community? Do they hold a lot of, have they held a lot of events?
Skates
Sanford—Holy Cross—was the “Guiding Light for Grace and Grits,” which is to feed the homeless. It’s a feeding program that we had at Holy Cross. And I can’t remember these years, it’s been going on for a long time. And we had it at Holy Cross. Every Wednesday night, Holy Cross would feed, oh, a hundred people. But it would depend on the season and what. Homeless people from all over. And not just men, but families. People would come to eat.
A few years ago, we wanted to remodel the parish hall, which is where the kitchen is. And we opted to find another place to hold the Wednesday night feedings—dinners, I should say—and that was—that was hard, because the people at the church—and we have some people who are so dedicated to this—they finally found that the City [of Sanford] would let them use the [Sanford] Civic Center. It costs, I think, $200 a month or something like that. We have to pay the City for that. So now they’re feeding them down there. And also, during the transition when the parish hall was being refurbished, and the kitchen was—when we had a new priest—he really has done a lot. I mean, he has Wednesday night services, and so they had a meal there on Wednesday nights, and classes and everything. So that kind of made them want to keep the “Grace and Grits” out there. And Holy Cross wasn’t the only one that does this. I must explain this. Every church—not every church, but many churches in Sanford—there’s a Methodist church, St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Lake Mary, the [All Souls] Catholic Church [of Sanford]. All of them.
Dombrowski
Just a minute here. Just to make sure.
Skates
All of them have people that come and help so we’re not doing it by ourselves. Did it run out of battery?
Dombrowski
No. It’s working. No. It’s working, I just wanted to make sure that the whole thing had recorded and everything. I’m sorry.
Skates
But anyway, it’s a whole city thing. There’s a whole lot of people involved in this. So, yeah. We do that. We also have our new priest—well at least not that new anymore. He’s been here 2 or 3 years, and he’s very much involved in helping the homeless. They call it “SACON[sp].” I couldn’t tell you what it stands for, but they go to different places in the neighborhoods and help homeless people get ID cards. Because if they don’t have an ID card, they can’t—well, there’s a lot of things they can’t do. They can’t even get shelter sometimes, if they’re going to shelters. So this has been a good thing. And helping—it’s helping the city to know what the population is of the homeless, and where they’re staying and what they’re doing. So that’s a good thing. He was just very much involved in that.
We have some kind of a health thing one day a week at Holy Cross in the mornings, where people can come. I’m not really sure what, I guess I shouldn’t say anything about it, because I’m not sure what that is. I don’t what the group is that’s doing it. But yeah, Holy Cross is involved.
Dombrowski
Uh, is there anything about the church that you’d like to discuss that we haven’t covered?
Skates
We have a lot of memorials in Holy Cross that I’ve been trying to—and this is a hard job. We actually have two memorial books that from the beginning people have—the gifts of love that they’ve given in memory of someone that they lost. But when I go to the memorial books, there are items in there that we no longer have. We’ve had a couple of break-ins over the years, so they’ve lost some things, and then there’s items that we have that aren’t listed. So we’ve endeavored to work on this. I was trying to take pictures and it’s just one other job that I haven’t finished. It takes a lot of time to do that. And I really—I could get help—old-timers, because I’m not an old-timer there. They’ll say, “Oh no, I remember that was given in memory of so-and-so.”
Right now, I’m working on—when the church was rebuilt in 1923-1924, the altar and the pulpit at the front was very plain. I can only tell from pictures, but unattractive. And in 1940, sometime, a member of the choir—and I’m still working on this. This is one of those strings you have to keep following and try to see if you can come to the end—was killed in an automobile accident. And he is—what’s the word? They have said that he had given in 1945 money to buy a new altar. A new altar, and reredos behind the altar, and an altar, and chairs. We have a lot of furniture, because it’s a very formal church. I don’t think you call it “High Episcopal.” I think some people might, but we have a good candelabra, good communion-ware. A lot of stuff. And anyway, this man—apparently there was a big brouhaha that the vestry wanted to put a new roof on the church, which is a tile roof—which always needs work—or to buy the altar furniture. And just recently I talked to a lady, who’s in a—a Heritage [at Lake Forest] nursing home out here, who was telling me about this. I didn’t know this story. And she said, “Oh, my goodness.” She said, “Everybody was fighting, and everybody was mad. They wanted the roof.” “No, no. We want the altar.” Well anyway, the altar people won out, because the priest wanted the altar…
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
Redone [laughs]. So, uh—so I’m still working on that. And, as, uh, oral tradition says, that that money was used for the new altar-ware—altar and furniture, I should say—um, by this man, who gave it, But, um—in honor—in [inaudible] —yeah. In of our members who fought in World War II.
Dombrowski
Okay.
Skates
So I asked one of our older members if he remembers that. He says, “Oh yeah, there’s a plaque up there in the front of the church someplace that tells all the members that died. I’m sure it says something about ‘in memory of’ that.” Well, the plaque wasn’t there, so several ladies started on a search of the rooms, and they found the plaque. Only, it wasn’t a plaque. It’s a big framed picture with 70 names beautifully written by someone on there, with little gold stars next to five men who were killed during the war. But I still don’t know if it’s a memorial to them for the furniture. So I’m working on that, because I have the big memorial plaque reframed and I guess we’ll rededicate it one of these days when we find out what’s the story on it. But there’s things like that that come up when someone will say, “Well, who gave that baptismal font? What was that all about?”
Or, we have two things in the church—this is interesting—we have two things in the church that we know for certain were there in the first church. That General Sanford gave: a crucifixion picture that he had bought in Belgium and donated it to the church. That picture—and we were trying to get an idea of the value of it—and the man that we had restore it said, “It’s not worth a thing. All it’s worth is what it’s worth to the congregation. But as far as famous artist, no.” It’s the crucifixion. Even after it as restored, still doesn’t look very good. Because it went through the hurricane the first time. Through the fire the second time. Someone rescued it. So it has—the restorer said it has water damage. So that was something that we know General Sanford physically probably touched, and that it was there. The other thing is a small lectern, where they put the Bibles on, or the prayer book. And that’s in the chapel that was given by Reverend Lyman Phelps. We think he built it. He made it in memory of his wife. So that’s pretty interesting to have two things back a hundred and how many years—138 years or whatever it is.
Dombrowski
Oh. That’s very special.
Skates
Yeah. It is special. So it’s the history. I mean, I could go to any church. I love—just love churches. But I love the history of this church. It’s—and I’m sure that if I were in Philadelphia I’d go to Christ Church I went to Williamsburg [,Virginia][3]—my mother and I—we went to the—oh, what was the name of that Episcopal church[4] there? It’s so beautiful in Williamsburg.[5] Where Patrick Henry gave his speech.
Dombrowski
In Virginia?
Skates
In Virginia. That was—so it’s the ambiance. It’s what you feel. It’s very interesting. And I do get excited about it [laughs].
Dombrowski
I’m just going to check the battery one more time. Oh, it looks fine. Whoa. I didn’t notice the bars. They change as I talk and get closer. But the battery’s fine. Okay, great.
So, uh, you’re a historian there. It sounds like you do a bunch of different things.
Skates
I’m kind of a detective. There’s not a day goes—well, a day—there probably is. But not a week goes by that someone says, “Bette”—well somebody asked me the other day, “Isn’t our,”—we have a huge bell on the bell tower—“Isn’t that bell called ‘Raphael?’” I said, “No, I don’t think—that’s not the name of the bell.” And he said, “Oh, I’m pretty sure it is.” Well, now I have to figure it out. Is it or isn’t it? Or, people will say, “Well, where did the bell come from?”
Oh, and then we have this magnificent organ of Ferrante[sp] Brothers organ from—I can’t remember where it’s from. I want to say Canada, but I may be wrong. It was installed in 1947, and this is just a magnificent piece of furniture. Ferrante[sp] Brothers. I believe there’s another name that goes with that. I guess I can’t remember. But anyway, it doesn’t matter. This is not a test. That was put in in 1947, and I’ve forgotten how many pipes there are for it, but—oh, more than 100 pipes. There’s pipes and pipes. Pipes that you can see over the choir loft, but there’s also a whole closet full of pipes. Our organist—she knows how to play it. It’s just beautiful. So that was—I don’t know where the money for that came from. As far as that being a memorial, or something, I don’t know. I don’t think so. So many things are, but that’s not. But someone will say, “Well, what year was the organ installed?” Or, “Where did it come from?”
So I—yeah. I do. I have to have a little notebook in my pocketbook and I keep writing it down and then I have to go back and research it. And I have a lot of friends too that have been long, long-time members there, so I usually go to them and say, “Do you know anything about this?” And some of them will say, “No, I don’t know.” Or, “We’ll look it up.” But we have—and I’m trying to get all the histories together and put them in one place so it’s pretty organized. It’s fairly organized, but not as much as I would like to have it done. But I’ve saved all the newsletters[sic] columns that I’ve written over the years. I have them each in a different notebook with acid-free paper so after I type them I print them off and put them in the folders and so I’ve got all that. So that’s a pretty good history right there. It’s good. Did I answer the question? [laughs].
Dombrowski
Yeah. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.
Skates
Also, I must give credit to Alicia Clarke at the Sanford Museum. We have much help from her. And then some! Sorry.
Dombrowski
[laughs] No. I don’t mind at all. I know we’ve been talking for a long time now, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to find out more about what your time as an educator was like Seminole County.
Skates
Oh, I think I had the best 30 years that you could have had really, because it was—right now, I have friends, my neighbors. I have a lot of friends still teaching, and it’s very different now. It’s very different. We had—the wonderful thing we had that teachers today don’t have, and that’s freedom. You can’t say—if Johnny brings in a whole bag of shells that he had his mother just collected at the beach, we can’t dump those shells out and sit down and go through them and maybe catalog them or talk about them or what can we do with it. There’s no way of being spontaneous, because teachers today—if that child brought that in, I would have to say, “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to put that away. We don’t have time to look at that.” And that bothers me a lot. Because I really feel like the teachable moment is when the kid is interested. And if nobody is interested, then there’s no teachable moment.
It’s—when I was teaching at Idyllwilde [Elementary School] one year, the kids found a dead rabbit on the playground. I have a friend who had just moved here from Chicago[, Illinois], and she was working with me at the time. She was getting ready to take over half of my class, because I had 45 kids in my class. And they had hired her to take part of my kids. But she tells me about this every time she thinks about it. She said, “So, the kids wanted to know what to do with the rabbit.” And I said, “Well, we’re going to have to bury it. Let’s bury it.” So we got a shovel from the janitor and the boys dug a hole right outside the classroom door. And buried the rabbit. Well, they got to talking about what was going to happen to the rabbit in the ground. Well, of course the kids—and these were fourth and fifth graders—they would say, “Well, the bugs and the worms are going to eat him,” and so forth. So, just before school was out, the boy that dug the hole said, “Ms. Skates, can we dig that rabbit up? See what’s left? See if we can find his bones?” And I said, “Well, that’s a good idea. Let’s do it.” So we did. We couldn’t find it! This kid dug up a whole are as big as this table. Couldn’t find a thing left of the rabbit.
Dombrowski
Oh, my goodness.
Skates
But that sounds—and it would probably almost be silly to some educator—but those are things that—what did they learn? Well, we could put a whole bunch of things on the board. We learned this. We learned, you know—what is this? So, or you know—well like the space shuttle. We had classes when the Space Shuttle [Challenger] blew up. We all went outside on the playground to watch the space shuttle go up. And this was—what was this? [19]89?
Dombrowski
Oh, I have it here. No, I don’t.
Skates
But anyway, we were all out on the playground, watching, and we saw it went up, and we saw all these stars and everything. The kids were all saying, “Look at that. They’re putting out stars,” all kinds of things that kids would think of. And my fellow teacher was standing next to me, she said, “I think we ought to take the kids in.” I said, “Okay.” So we take the kids in. Well, she happened to have a little TV set in her closet. And we brought that out to see what had happened. And we could do that. You couldn’t do that today.
Dombrowski
That’s true.
Skates
She brought it out and we set that out between our two classrooms. We watched it all day long. The kids—it was very sad. We all were grieving. So we grieved together. So, what is this? How did this happen? All we could do was speculate. We didn’t know. But what would you, you know, you…
Well, first off, I think taking time outside would probably take time away from teaching about the FCAT [Florida’s Comprehensive Assessment Test].
Dombrowski
I was going to ask how you think the FCAT has influenced—okay.
Skates
You know, every week, teachers, back in the day—and I retired in [19]97. Every teacher gave a test at the end of the week. You would take your math book and go through—and everything that I had taught in math that week—the test would be on Friday. Same thing with spelling tests—on Friday. Social studies on Friday. And we did teach social studies. We did teach the Constitution. We did teach early American history. We did teach that. I think that, in fifth grade, we stopped at the Civil War, but that’s all we had time for. So, you gave the test. At the end of the week, you knew what the child had done. By the time you correct those papers, you knew that Johnny and Mary and Susie were having trouble with multiplication. So next week, let’s zero in on those three and their multiplication tables. How hard is that? I mean, why do we have to do what they’re doing now? I don’t understand.
Dombrowski
I don’t want to interject my opinion too much, but my mother teaches middle school. And so I’ve heard a lot about FCAT, and a great deal about how it’s changed. She used to teach in New York and it’s very different.
Skates
Oh, yes. I think, even now—well, this friend of mine that came down—she wasn’t a friend at the time, but now she’s my best friend—from Chicago, you know. She’d said, “Oh, my gosh. These schools—they’re so far behind! In Chicago in fifth grade, we were doing this.” And you know, well, it takes a long time. I mean, you know, the [Great] Depression hit the South harder. The agricultural society makes a difference. Kids are not—they may be working in the fields some. I mean not so much in my time, but it was just different. And it takes a long, you know—I think this a lot about even the ship of state, it takes a long time to turn a ship around. And it takes a long time to turn the education system around. It’s like it’s the biggest boat you ever saw and you’re just trying to turn it around and make things better. I think we’ve come a long way, but I think there probably still is a way to go.
But now we’ve got—it’s so muddled with this FCAT and this—pushing, pushing these kids. My grandson goes to a parochial school. Goes to St. Luke’s Lutheran Church School in Oviedo. He doesn’t have that stigma hanging over his head. He’s going in third grade. He loves school. He’s a good student. And he struggled to begin with. He had problems with his reading. But if he were in the public school, he would really be in trouble. First off, he’d be going into the third grade. You have to take the FCAT. If you don’t pass that, you have to repeat third grade. Well, his handwriting is very poor, what are you going to do about that? But the private school—they give them more time. They also give them more one-on-one situations. I don’t know. I’m just so that glad that his mother and father—my son and his wife—are so wise. And it’s a sacrifice. It’s a lot of money every month to keep him in private school. He’s their only child, which is a good thing. It’s tough. Your mother is right, and she’s right in the middle of that FCAT business in middle school.
Dombrowski
Uh, you mentioned the Challenger accident. Are there any other events that stick out in your mind, that you remember teaching or going through with your students?
Skates
What did we have? [John F.] Kennedy’s assassination didn’t affect me, but it did my children. They were in elementary school and Kennedy was assassinated—my two older ones. They were talking about this, not long ago, about the atomic bomb scare with the Cuban Missile Crisis. They were talking about the duck-and-cover. You know, an atomic bomb is blowing up over your state, and what do you tell the kids to do? You tell them to get under their desks and cover their head[sic]. That involved them. I wasn’t teaching in ’63. Let’s see, what else could there be? Thinking back to Kennedy, I can’t think of anything else.
Dombrowski
Okay. Did UCF opening or Cape Canaveral opening change…
Skates
It did. I think it changed. With the Cape, with Geneva—the school—when we started getting the influx of people moving to that area. The fathers were engineers and the moms worked, most of them, over there too. Those were great kids. I don’t know, maybe because the parents were involved in scientific things like the engineering and everything. Every couple years, it seems like they come up with something new. Your mother can relate to this too.
They taught us what they call the “New Math.” And I’d only been teaching a couple years and we had this great, and I still have the book—a great big blue book about New Math. Well first off, we were supposed to be teaching the metric system, and that was because of the engineering thing, I think. But they had—I remember one of the fathers was an engineer and he came to school and I was struggling as much as the kids were. They gave us the course in the summer and we were supposed to start teaching it in the fall. So I really didn’t—nobody had a chance. The father came in, he said, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Now, how do you talk to an engineer? And I was honest with him, “Well, yes. I do.” I said, “We had six weeks.” I think we had a course. And I said, “Not as much as I’ll know at the end of this year.” And he said, “Well, my son doesn’t know what the hell’s going on.” I said, “Well, I am really sorry.” But he was very nice about. But he really kind of put me on my toes. Which was a good thing. I’m glad he did. But by the end of the year, I even knew what prime numbers were [laughs].
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
In fifth grade, you teach addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. I figured the fact that I could multiply and divide fractions—I was pretty smart [laughs].
Dombrowski
[laughs].
Skates
Don’t go beyond that. Oh dear.
Dombrowski
I just have a couple specific questions left. If you wouldn’t mind, just because it’s a personal history about you, what were the names of your children—are the names of your children?
Skates
Phillip, Pamela—well, he’s Jimmy. And the youngest is Bill. They all have their given names, but that’s what we call them. They were—Phillip was born in [19]5—he was born ’54. I have a nice little rubric here. Pam was born in ’56. Jimmy was born in ’58. And Bill was born in ’63. I think I was busy going to school there or something.
Dombrowski
Uh, where—which schools did you teach at? You taught at Geneva.
Skates
I taught at Geneva. That was my first assignment. Well, I went to Southside, which is a school in Sanford right near my home—was where I did my internship, and that’s where my kids went to school. And that’s an old—that was—when I bought my house, that was the best school in Sanford. And that’s the reason I bought that house. It’s now been turned into—what did they call it? A nursing home. Golden Years nursing home. It’s a lovely school. It’s built in a square and in the center is an atrium. And all the classrooms are built around the atrium. And down in the basement is the lunchroom, and up a little flight of stairs in the auditorium. It was a very nice plan for a school, but it’s a nice plan for a nursing home, I guess. But they closed the school, because they built new schools and whatever. But my kids got to go through that, which I was glad for that. At least the two oldest ones did. And then the other two came with me to Geneva. What was the question?
Dombrowski
Oh. Which schools have you taught at?
Skates
Oh, and then I went, I was at Goldsboro [Elementary School. This was a good thing. When I left Geneva, and I had gotten my Master’s in Exceptional Education, and I wanted to teach learning disabled children. And the principal at Geneva, for his own reasons, said he wasn’t going to have a special ed[ucation] class. Well, it wasn’t true, but that’s what he told me. So I had this Pell Grant that I had used to get my Master’s, that if I taught at a [Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965] Title I school, which I don’t know if you know that means now, but it was a school that had more free lunches than any other school or something like that. So the principal at Goldsboro called me and he said, “If you come and teach the learning disabled children at Goldsboro,” he said, “I can sign off on your student loan.” So I spent two years there and signed off all that my Master’s cost me. I mean, I had not paid for—he would sign off the loans—the superintendent would sign it off…
Dombrowski
So they would pay for it.
Skates
So they paid for it. So that was very good. I don’t know if that’s what you call a Pell Grant. I’ve forgotten. But I taught there two years and then the principal from Idyllwilde called and said they had a new wing opening up. They call it the E Wing—Exceptional Ed. Wing. And would I come out and do their SLD [Specific Learning Disabilities] classes. I said, “Oh, yes.” So that’s where I was when I retired.
Dombrowski
Okay.
Skates
That was good. I—those were good years. They were all good years.
Dombrowski
Well, good.Those are all the questions and topics that I have. Is there anything else you’d like to speak to that we haven’t?
Skates
I don’t know. I think I’m probably boring you.
Dombrowski
[laughs] Well, no. This is a good time.
Skates
Now, how are they going to work this? Are they going to have a library?
Dombrowski
Yeah, I think I’ll just…
Skates
Right.
Youngers
My name is Stephanie Youngers. Today is November 19, 2010, and I am interviewing Mrs. Mart Tucker and Mr. Cecil Tucker here at the Museum of the Seminole County History. How are we all today?
Cecil
We’re doing great.
Mart
Just fine [laughs].
Youngers
Good. Well, we’re going to start where and when you were born.
Mart
Okay. I was born in Fort Pierce. January 19th, 1932.
Youngers
And when did you come to the area here?
Mart
Well—here?
Youngers
Did you move around a lot before you moved to the Seminole/Orange County area?
Mart
No. I remember—the thing that I remember first was when we moved to the two-story house on Lake Barton—Little Lake Barton Road[1]—out just outside of Orlando. And we lived there for about 12 years, I think. And then Daddy, of course—he was going up and down the state when the tick eradication was on. And when that was over, he then became a foreman of the ranch south of Christmas. And, so when he was in the tick eradication, he never knew where he would be moved to another place. And so we rented the house that we lived in for about 10 or 12 years.
Youngers
Wow.
Mart
But, this[sic] was[sic] the [World] War [II] years, and you couldn’t find housing in Orlando. And somebody found that house, and bought it, so we had to find another place. And couldn’t go out to the ranch, because there was no school bus going there.
Cecil
How far was the ranch from civilization?
Mart
Well, it was 18 miles south of the main highway.
Youngers
Oh, wow.
Cecil
That was 18 miles south of Christmas. And Christmas was 20 miles from Orlando.
Youngers
Wow. And you went to school in Orlando?
Mart
Yes. Well, when that house was bought. If you worked for the company, they would give you housing in Holopaw. And the ranch was—that he was foreman of—was…
Cecil
Osceola County.
Mart
Well, it was in Osceola County, but it was owned by the Holopaw outfit. And therefore, we went to Holopaw. And we lived there. Best year of my life—well, not really.
Youngers
[laughs].
Mart
But I had lots of fun out there in Holopaw. Mother was—helped to do out the—what is it?
Cecil
The commissary. Food stamps.
Mart
No, the—food stamps and things. Still the war—we still had that. And that was in the commissary. So I’d come to the commissary and I’d help the guys put cans up in that grocery department, and then I’d go to a guy that cuts up all the meat, and I’d do help there. And then at the end of the week, they would do their hand in their pocket and give me out some change. And I still have the .22 rifle that I bought with that money.
Youngers
Oh, my goodness. So, the commissary—that was like the grocery store?
Mart
Yeah.
Youngers
That was out in Holopaw.
Mart
Yes. Because you didn’t have to go to town if you need clothes or, if you need…
Cecil
That was P. V. Wilson Lumber Company. Big outfit.
Youngers
Oh, okay. Yeah.
Mart
And they’re not there anymore. Not at all.
Youngers
No. they’re not. Do you know—what is the school that you attended?
Mart
Well, I went to the school in—what is it? I had it down here. The city that was…
Cecil
Holopaw.
Mart
No, no, no. They had to go out.
Youngers
Fort Pierce?
Cecil
St. Cloud?
Mart
St. Cloud. St. Cloud. Rode into there.
Youngers
That’s still quite a drive. I’ve been down that road.
Mart
Yes. It was.
Youngers
And they had a grammar school there, or…
Mart
No. I don’t think so.
Cecil
What—in St. Cloud?
Mart
No. in Holopaw they did.
Youngers
But in St. Cloud? Did you attend grammar school? Or was it a large school? Or was it a small place?
Mart
Just regular. St. Cloud.
Cecil
It wasn’t that large.
Mart
Wasn’t anything like Orlando. But it was bigger than Holopaw.
Youngers
And you all lived in Holopaw for a year?
Mart
Just a year.
Youngers
When did you—where did you go after you left there?
Mart
Well, when we left there, the ranch was just officially our home. But Mom and us—well, there’s[sic] four girls at the time—had not yet finished all high school. So we went into Orlando and rented in Orlando until my twin sister and I…
Youngers
Oh, you’re a twin, too? Wow.
Mart
Yeah.
Cecil
Tell us about your brothers and sisters.
Mart
Oh, hm. Well, Sally [Albritton] and Betty [Albritton]. Helen [Albritton] was the oldest. And then I had a brother, Boots [Albritton], that[sic] was about, I guess, four years younger than she. And then there was two sets of—Sally and Betty. And then there was Miriam [Albritton] and Margaret [Albritton].
Youngers
So two sets of twins? Goodness.
Mart
Two sets of twins. Twenty months apart.
Youngers
Oh, my goodness.
Mart
You can figure why I guess she had her tubes tied. Didn’t need any more kids. And what else did you…
Cecil
Well, just tell us about your brothers and sisters, because that…
Youngers
Did you all help out at home a lot on the ranch?
Mart
Well, see, we didn’t live on the ranch. I was privy to be able to—well, in the sixth and seventh grade, Daddy would go out for two weeks in the summer. And even then, on Wednesday, he would let me ride. I’d cow-hunt with him. I sat up on horse, and all that. He was my dad, but you took care of whatever you was supposed to do. So I loved to cow-hunt. We’d ride all day. We’d ride all morning and then have lunch and take a snooze before we rode some more. So you could get tired of it, but I didn’t.
Cecil
How about your brother?
Mart
Well, my brother, Boots—he was out at the ranch. He married and was out at the ranch. But he—he didn’t stay there very long. Thing of it is, you have to not let hollerin’ at you bother you, because when you’re having to do something, or things are quick—and Daddy hollers at you to do something—you don’t get out of sorts, because that’s just the way it is. But he couldn’t take it. And so he went into Orlando there.
Youngers
Now, did your other sisters do this with you too?
Mart
No.
Cecil
She was, um—Mart[2] was the only boy.
Mart
They didn’t. They didn’t never come out to the ranch when for—you know, like I did.
Cecil
Her dad said that he had a pretty good cowhand in her until I came along and started courting her and messed it up [laughs].
Mart
[laughs] Oh, well, you could have jumped in and helped us. No.
Youngers
When you went to the high school in Orlando, were you part of any groups or anything there? Did you have any kind of social functions that you attended?
Mart
Well, I was athletic. So we had a group—a club—that I was head of. And as far as us girls that were athletic were concerned, we stayed after school and played the different sports that were available at that part of the year.
Cecil
What were some of the sports that y’all played?
Mart
Speedball was one. Of course, basketball. Volleyball.
Cecil
Softball?
Mart
Yeah, yeah. Softball. I was pitcher. But my main thing in high school was sports. And that and makin’ honor society.
Cecil
What about rifle team?
Mart
Oh, I forgot about the rifle team.
Youngers
You were on the rifle team too?
Mart
Well, we had a rifle club. I got a picture home, shows this old, oh, eight or ten boys and girls up there with their rifles, out from the school building there. Now, can you imagine? They’re letting people bring rifles to school today? [laughs].
Youngers
Oh, yeah. Were the boys a little put off by the fact that you could shoot a rifle?
Mart
Oh, no. No.
Youngers
No? They liked that? They weren’t afraid?
Mart
I still have the rifle. Oh, when I was in Holopaw, and the guys—well, did I say that? And the guys, when they would give me money…
Youngers
And you bought your .22.
Mart
Yeah, that’s when I bought that .22. When I was in the eighth grade. So…
Youngers
Oh, wow. And they let you buy it all by yourself?
Mart
Oh, yeah.
Youngers
See, can’t do that anymore either.
Mart
[inaudible] Right, yeah. That was better days.
Youngers
Yeah. And from high school, you went to University of Florida. Did you do that right out of high school, or did you take some time in between?
Mart
No, I went right out of high school and I was going to major in animal husbandry. And, when did I see you first?
Cecil
The summer before you went up there.
Mart
Well, I can’t…
Youngers
You saw him here back home?
Mart
When my sister and I graduated from high school, then the ranch was our home. And that’s where I lived. And our post office was in Christmas. We’d go into Orlando to get groceries and stuff, and so one of those days before I went off to college, got the mail, came out and told Mom, “Oh, I saw the postmaster’s son. He was waiting—in there waiting on customers.” She said, “Oh, you should have told him you’re one of the lucky ones. You’re going to be in Reid Hall.” And I was really surprised that Mother would want me to—but I knew what—she was afraid I was going to get homesick at university and didn’t know anybody, and at least I would know one person. Of course, since I was a beginner there, I had to go a week early for the week of orientation. Well, it just so happens there’s this guy sitting on the steps of the big building we were waiting for something, the next thing to be done. But because he was a transfer student…
Cecil
I had to go to orientation too.
Mart
He had to do the same. And so that’s where I really met him. And, of course, we went to the frat[ernity] house and met all those guys.
Youngers
Yeah. He said he used to invite you to dinner every week to come have dinner with him and all the boys there.
Mart
Of course, he made sure to tell everyone one of them—oh, man. Whole house full of guys, you know. He told every one of them, “Hands off.” Never did give—well, he was out of town, he had to go home for his teeth or something, and old McGregor—tall, lanky fellow—asked me out. And I had already planned to do ironing and what not, but I said, “No.” That was the only…
Cecil
The only opportunity you had. He hadn’t gotten a word yet at that point.
Mart
Yeah. He hadn’t gotten to the frat house yet. But that was great. And I went that one year. But if I really wanted to go again back, I’m sure money would have been able to be found. Mother had an operation that took what normally would have sent me, but by then, I was…
Cecil
Sidetracked.
Mart
Well, yeah. I was wanting to get a job and save up money so that whenever we were—we were getting pretty close, and so I didn’t mind not going back to work there. I worked there and I forget where it was in Orlando, but then we were married.
Cecil
Jacob’s Packing House.
Mart
Yeah. That’s it.
Youngers
So when he finished out his education up there…
Mart
No, when he finished his—see, he had his first year in Orlando. Second year when I was up there too, and then the third year before—which way was it? We got married before he was graduated from college.
Youngers
So, did you stay down here?
Mart
No.
Cecil
Yeah. You did. You stayed one year working at Jacob’s.
Mart
After we were married?
Cecil
No. Not after we were married, before we were married.
Mart
Well, the next year, then what?
Cecil
Then we got married and you moved to Gainesville with me.
Mart
And I got a job in the animal husbandry department at Typhus. I was supposed to type this book they were wanting to have. And they ended up finally making it not a book, but something else. And they—do you remember?
Cecil
It was a book, but go ahead.
Mart
Well, anyway. That was—we had a lot of fun up there. One professor’s—of course I was a typist. They would give their handwritten stuff, and I would type it up. So I typed up this test that was going to be given out. And I went back to the fellow and I handed him the typed thing. And I had his handwritten, I says[sic], “Do you want this? I usually give it to Cecil.” He says, “Don’t.” [laughs]
Cecil
At that point, I was working on my Master’s [Degree].
Youngers
Oh. They didn’t want him having the test questions.
Cecil
Of course, she was teasing, but…
Youngers
Aww.
Mart
Those were good men in the ag[riculture] —animal husbandry. Until I was pregnant with Miriam [Tucker].
Cecil
They weren’t good after that?
Mart
Yeah. They were, but—then I was no longer working. So, what else is there to be said?
Youngers
When you all had twins too, right?
Mart
Mmhmm.
Youngers
Goodness gracious.
Mart
We had a little girl first. Then had twins. And Dr. Hoffman from Orlando—he saw to things. I mean, here I was pregnant, but in Gainesville, and we’d come home for, you know—back and forth. And in Thanksgiving—I think it was—came home and stayed.
Cecil
But now the twins were born in Ocala. They were born in Orlando, while we were living in Ocala.
Mart
True, true. Okay, so, it’s Ocala still. And he informed me that he’d tied my tubes. He contended with three on the ground, and coming in two’s, I didn’t need—and his financial status at the time, we couldn’t afford to have any more. To me, that was the best thing. That just made life so much easier, to not worry about getting pregnant.
Youngers
Right.
Mart
Good deal.
Youngers
Right. And when you all moved back to this area, it was so that Mr. Tucker could take his job at the Extension Office?
Cecil
Right.
Mart
Yeah, when were first in Ocala, and then…
Cecil
We were in Ocala for two years. I was Assistant County Agent in Marion County. And then we came here. I was [Seminole] County Agent and we came—I think it was in 1957.
Youngers
Okay.
Mart
What else we got here?
Youngers
What else did you do back here? Did you go back to work, or did you stay home?
Mart
Oh, what did I do? Cecil?
Cecil
You had three children. What do you think you did? [laughs].
Mart
Alright. We were living out by…
Youngers
Christmas.
Cecil
Well, first we lived in Rosalia Drive.
Mart
Yeah.
Cecil
In Sanford. In about 1960, we moved out on old Orlando Highway.
Mart
We had acreage there—oranges and pasture. Well, that was one. And we had cattle. Cecil was workin’ at the dairy and he—they had calves that weren’t going to be dairy cattle. And we started building up a herd there.
Cecil
It was 1956 that we came here.
Mart
But whatever had to be done with cattle and whatnot around the place, I usually did it. Because he had to go to work. We were feeding out—how many? Seven steer? That year?
Cecil
Well, y’all raised a bunch of heifer yearlings first. And later on it was about 10 steers that y’all fattened up.
Mart
What do you mean, “Y’all?”
Cecil
You [laughs].
Youngers
In other words, the kids didn’t help out.
Mart
Well, they probably had to go to school or something. It was probably wasn’t in the summertime or not. But that’s…
Youngers
So, you did a lot of work.
Mart
Oh, and also, we had some cattle…
Cecil
Lake Osprey[sp]. North of Osteen.
Mart
And so I primarily would go out there and check the cows or take them feeding. And he wasn’t always with me.
Youngers
Right.
Mart
We’d do it real nice [laughs].
Cecil
About 1960, we moved out to Citrus Heights—Ginderville[sp] [Heights], or near Ginderville[sp]. And that’s when we were able to have a lot more cattle she could look after, and the kids could have 4-H projects.
Mart
And really, what was really nice was there was an old house down the way, and Mom and Dad were able to—he kept the livestock market in Orlando. They lived there until finally when he retired. And this little house—with Daddy’s expertise on carpentry and stuff, they made the house a nice little place and lived there.
Youngers
So you were close to your Mom and Dad. Oh, good.
Mart
Mmhmm.
Youngers
And you were—when you were part of the women’s club for the [Seminole County] Farm Bureau, was that while Mr. Tucker was working at the Extension Office?
Cecil
It was after that, when we started a store in 1972. And at that point, I became president of Seminole County Farm Bureau. And it was a law in there that she became chairman of the women’s—deal.
Youngers
What did you do while you were on that board there?
Mart
I knew that would be asked. I don’t know. Well, when we would have the whole group would have an annual meeting, and supper, and whatnot. Of course, I was involved in getting all that prepared. Getting tables right and things like that.
Youngers
Did you help set, like, regulations? Or were the ladies involved in that way?
Mart
No.
Cecil
Not much. Not much. It was primarily just providing information of programs of what was available to them and what was going on.
Youngers
Okay. Very good.
Cecil
But also, when we moved out to Citrus Heights area, you became more active in 4-H. Because the boys became active in 4-H.
Youngers
And did they raise heifers?
Mart
No, they raised chickens.
Cecil
Chickens and pigs.
Youngers
Oh.
Cecil And they did raise heifers, but they never did raise any to show.
Youngers
Oh, okay.
Cecil
At one point, they won all of the trophies [laughs]. With the chickens at the show.
Mart
Oh, yeah. They felt kind of bad, I guess. Or we did [laughs].
Youngers
They raised all the best chickens.
Mart
I can see why. They had the best of help.
Youngers
They had the best parents. That’s right.
Mart
Help ‘em learn.
Youngers
Good.
Mart
Oh, goodness.
Cecil
But when we’d have our annual 4-H contest and things, she was in involved in helping us judge things like the lamp contest and making lamps.
Youngers
They make lamps? Really?
Cecil
Yeah, and electrical, you know—learn things about electricity. And she also judged these speaking contests.
Mart
The what?
Cecil
Speaking contests.
Mart
Oh, yeah. Okay. A lot of this I don’t remember [laughs].
Youngers
That’s okay.
Mart
I remember him, so far [laughs].
Youngers
That’s important.
Mart
But it’s been really, really great being involved in those kind of things. Being around with the kids, and…
Cecil
We—we started the store in 1972. Were you involved in that?
Mart
Slightly. I always brought the main attraction of the store. And where did we find that little pig?
Cecil
My son-in-law found him. He was a little wild pig. And he was so young that he still had, you know, fawn with half-spots on it. Wild pigs have similar spots as well.
Mart
So he became mine. And did he have a collar on?
Cecil
Yes.
Mart
A leash. Because when he was littler, if I was going to go mail something…
Cecil
Or deposit something. Make a deposit at the bank.
Mart
I would take him along down the streets of Sanford and take him in on a leash and finally he got bigger and bigger and bigger. And he’d come up on the porch. I’d chain him up there out of the sun.
Cecil
At the store?
Mart
Yeah. At the store. But he would come in, I’d bring him in to the store in the car. And he would be in the front seat. And one day I went there, heard someone said, “Hey!” I saw somebody on the corner there with a friend, who went on to work. She told me later she said, “The person said, ‘Was that a pig?’” And she said, “Oh, that’s Mart Tucker. That’s all she can get to ride with her.” [laughs] What a good friend. So a car would stop in the middle of the street from the store and the lady would get out, come up the steps, and give something to Pete right there, and go down, get in her car, and go off.
Cecil
It was a daily ritual with her to give him some piece of candy. Something.
Mart
Some edible thing.
Youngers
So they would just come up and give him treats then.
Cecil
Yeah [laughs].
Youngers
So how long did you have him for?
Mart
Until we finally, I quit bringing him in to the…
Cecil
He got to be about 700-800 pounds.
Youngers
Wow. Yeah. You wouldn’t be toting him around too much.
Mart
So he had a place there, at the barn at the house, and I guess…
Cecil
He got an infection. Yeah.
Youngers
Well, he got to be an awfully big boy, so…
Cecil
He did.
[phone rings].
Youngers
He must have been a happy boy.
Mart
He had lots of friends. Lots of attention.
Cecil
Excuse me. I forgot to turn this thing off.
Youngers
That’s alright.
Mart
Let’s see. That was at the store.
Youngers
So, you helped with the store, doing like all the stock. And, like, when the customers would come in, you’d help them?
Mart
Yeah. It’s Cecil and I. we did it all. It was a real enjoyable, and funny. Um, Horstmeyers?
Youngers
Horstmeyer [Farm and Garden].
Mart
Yeah, they have it now. Of course, we come in and get our feed there. And we came in and Miss Horstmeyer was behind the counter, and she made some comment about, “There’s the Tuckers.” And her telephone rang and she said, “Tuckers?” Instead of “Horstmeyer’s.” We had the biggest laughs over that. Her calling her own store by the wrong name. Oh, goodness.
Youngers
And you sold the store to your son first, right? And he just took it over, and did you retire, or did you move on to different things?
Mart
Well, we didn’t do any—I don’t know. You’d have to ask Cecil.
Youngers
Okay.
Mart
Um, I don’t—I haven’t been—I haven’t thought of that in a while. Oh, goodness. So…
Youngers
Do you have grandchildren?
Mart
Yep, we got great-grandchildren. We had Miriam, and then Cecil and John. Miriam is in—still in Christmas. She’s in Christmas. And Cecil III—he lives in a house that was ours in Sanford, and John is on the coast.
Youngers
Daytona [Beach]?
Mart
No, closer by.
Youngers
Melbourne?
Mart
That’s south. What is it, right down Cheney Highway? Um, Titusville.
Youngers
Titusville?
Mart
Titusville. When, let’s see. I was trying to think, I guess Drew, his son, one of his sons, moved up to Titusville and he wasn’t going to be left behind from being around his grandchildren. And so they moved up. And they live in that area. So it’s real nice. Drew has four children—two boys and two girls. So John and Pam just make do over there profusely. [laughs] Which is really nice. So, we’ve spent time over there ourselves.
Youngers
You like it over there on the coast?
Mart
Yeah. It’s nice. Yeah. We were talking about John and Pam and the kids there.
Youngers
I had asked Mrs. Tucker what she did once the store closed. If y’all retired, or if you just kind of—what you did.
Cecil
Well, we sold the store to my son. And when we moved out to Christmas, we just spent more time working on the ranch. So. And that went on, we were pretty much full time on that until Mother—well, my dad passed away in ’95, and in the next couple years Mother came to live with us. And Mart looked after her for the next 10 or 12 years.
Youngers
Wow.
Cecil
Mother lived to be 101, one month, one week, and one day old.
Mart
She was the one. She was quite a lady.
Youngers
And how about your parents?
Mart
Well, my dad passed away. I don’t know when.
Cecil
Well, he was in his late 80s. And then later, your mother came to live with us, and she was in her 90s when she passed away.
Mart
She was living the little house, where she did when we were in Sanford. And my sister Betty was living with her when, after Daddy died. And keeping care of her. And it was getting to be a burden for her. So I just had her and Mother to come on over to our house and she would be looking after Mother, but she wouldn’t have that, you know, burden of having to do all the shots of making decisions that she had us to be able to do that too. And…
Youngers
Well, I was going to take you back a little bit, because Mr. Tucker told me your maiden name was Albritton. And I know that’s real prominent down in the South Florida area. I know that the families would run cattle and different things. Was your family involved in that kind of thing as well?
Mart
Oh, yeah. And, of course, Daddy—he was—how long was he foreman of the ranch south of Christmas?
Cecil
15-20 years.
Mart
The thing of it is, he was involved in the tick eradication, and then whenever that was over, then he got the job of being foreman of that ranch. And so…
Cecil
But his family, the Albrittons, were raised around Polk County/Hillsborough County area.
Mart
Well, I was thinking of another—I can’t think of it. Where the Albrittons came from, I mean most of them were…
Cecil
Well, some came from that area.
Mart
Okay. What’s the name of the area you’re talking about? [laughs]
Cecil Pine Level in Pine Crest. Plant City.
Mart Oh, okay.
Cecil
Arcadia. By the way, Arcadia was named after Arcadia Albritton.
Mart
Yeah.
Youngers
That’s really neat [laughs].
Mart
[laughs] Oh, something came on my mind.
Cecil
But Mart’s family came from—there’s two lines of Albrittons. There’s fence-cutting Albrittons and hog-stealing Albrittons. She’s from the fence-cutting Albrittons. [laughs] That’s another story.
Mart
Yeah. Yeah. Because cattle people move their cattle up and down the state of Florida, according to the weather. Weren’t any fences anywhere. People fenced their yard in, and things. And then whenever the—what is it? The people that put the fence across?
Cecil
Oh, the, uh…
Mart
Phosphate…
Cecil
Phosphate mining.
Mart
That came in. And so they didn’t want cattle going through, and they put a fence over, and so a group of men went and tore the fence down. And there was a big shootout there.
Cecil
Well, the second or third time that they tore the fence down was when the shootout happened [laughs].
Youngers
I think we talked about that too.
Mart
Oh, did you? What else?
Youngers
Do you have anything else that we didn’t talk about that you want to talk about?
Mart
Don’t know. No, I don’t guess so.
Youngers
Okay.
Mart
Guess we’ve got everything.
Youngers
How about you, Mr. Tucker? You want to add anything?
Cecil
No. I think we did pretty good[sic].
Youngers
Alright, then. Thank you very much, Mrs. Tucker.
Mart
Well, you’re welcome.
Youngers
And Mr. Tucker.
Mart
I hope it’ll be worth having [laughs].
Cecil
[laughs].
Youngers
Oh, it will. Yes, ma’am.
Youngers
My name is Stephanie Youngers. Today is September 23rd, 2010. And I am interviewing Mr. Cecil [A.] Tucker [II], here at the Museum of Seminole County History. Mr. Tucker, how are you?
Tucker
I’m doing great.
Youngers
Good. We’ll start with where and when you were born, if you’re willing to give us that information.
Tucker
Yes. I was born actually in Brevard County in Rockledge. May 26th, 1931. And we lived in Rockledge—my mother and dad and I—for just a few weeks. My dad was working for the state and the tick eradication and his job as a range rider was over in east Orange County. So he moved us to Bithlo. And so, I was in—actually, he was already working for the state and headquartered out of Bithlo when I was born. My mother went over to Cocoa, to where there was some of the family, to help when I was being born.
Youngers
Oh.
Tucker
We lived in Bithlo for about six months. And then we moved to Christmas.
Youngers
Okay.
Tucker
And that’s another story.
Youngers
And is that where you live now, is in Christmas?
Tucker
Yes. Yes.
Youngers
Okay. How—how was it growing up there? Obviously different from today, but…
Tucker
You know, Christmas is a kind of unique community. In a lot of respects, there’s some areas of it—we live a lot different today than it was when I was growing up, primarily because the people worked real hard to keep it that way and not let influence come in.
Youngers
That’s good.
Tucker
But the community is—always had a—it’s a real close-knit community. And people pretty much look after each other, and help each other out. And the [Fort Christmas] Historical Park in Christmas is helping to preserve some of this kind of history.
Youngers
And like, we talked about the Cracker Christmas, and that’s one of the main events out there.
Tucker
Yes.
Youngers
And I know a lot of people don’t hardly go to Christmas, but during that time of year, you’ll find a lot more people out there.
Tucker
Cracker Christmas is always the first weekend in December. That also is the time that we have the tree-lighting and carol singing. We have decorated a Christmas tree. A large, living Florida red cedar. We’ve decorated it every year since 1952.
Youngers
Wow.
Tucker
And we have the carol singing and tree-lighting. Tree-lighting and carol singing, always the first Sunday in December every year. So Cracker Christmas—that weekend involves usually the tree-lighting and carol singing, as well as what’s going on at the fort.
Youngers
And is it like crafts and things at the fort?
Tucker
Yes, at the fort. Crafts and—it’s a real nice festival. It really is.
Youngers
I know most people that go to Christmas during Christmastime want to get their letters stamped from Christmas.
Tucker
Yes. That’s an interesting situation. When Mother became Postmaster in 1932, she found out how much people were interested to get their cards postmarked at Christmas time. So she created a Christmas tree cachet that could be put on the extra onto the cards.
Youngers
The envelope?
Tucker
Yes. Yeah. And so, she started doing that. And that was in 1934.
Youngers
And everything is by hand too?
Tucker
Everything was by hand. Yeah.
Youngers
Wow. So how many people do you think, on average, would come through there?
Tucker
Well, it started out, you know—it’d be 30 or 40 thousand a year. Now, we’re probably somewhere between 300 and 500 thousand a year that have this done. But it’s just for those extra, little special things. We don’t get a whole lot of cooperation out of the Post Office Department. Because they consider this an extraneous thing. It creates more problems for them.
Youngers
Right. But you all still do it out there.
Tucker
Still do it. Yeah [laughs].
Youngers
That’s crazy. Wow. Was there any other kind of events and things that you can remember, growing up?
Tucker
As I was growing up, the school—the activities at the school pretty much centered—it was the activities in the community. We’d have school plays, and get-togethers at school, a covered dish dinner, and this sort of thing. All those kind of things going on all the time in Christmas.
Youngers
Right. And the school is located not in Christmas?
Tucker
Yep. Well, in those days, until 1969, there was a school in Christmas. It started out in the 19—in 18—probably the 1880s. It could have been a little before that. The post office—the church in Christmas was started in 1871, and shortly after that, the school was created in the church, in the building. But we’ve had a school in Christmas ever since, until 1969, when it ended up getting moved to Bithlo.
Youngers
And that was all the grades throughout?
Tucker
We had a, it was eight grades. My first eight years of school was in that building. First four grades—we called “The Little Room,” and that was in the small room. That building has been moved to the fort, and is one of the preserved buildings at the fort. The larger room was grades four—five through eight.
Youngers
And the high school?
Tucker
Well, in those days, they didn’t—we had a junior high, but it went from ninth grade on. And now they call it, well…
Youngers
Now they have elementary school, middle school, and high school.
Tucker
Middle school. Yeah. They call it middle school. So…
Youngers
And which high school did you go to?
Tucker
And then I rode a bus to Orlando and went to Memorial Junior High [School] in Orlando, and then I transferred in the tenth grade. I transferred to Orlando High School—OHS.
Youngers
Okay. And after that, you went to the University of Florida?
Tucker
Well, I went to Orlando Junior College, which was there in Orlando. It was in the early stages of junior colleges getting started. But I only went one year, because I had in my 4-H work. I had won a scholarship to the University of Florida. And that scholarship was fixing to expire on me, so I had to transfer out of junior college up to the university so I could get my scholarship.
Youngers
We’ll come back to your schooling. How long were you into the 4-H? I mean, what did you do while you were in there?
Tucker
I was always very active in 4-H. In fact, when I got on up to—I stayed active in 4-H even when I was in high school. I drove my dad’s cattle truck, and I would haul our dairy heifers to the various shows around. I carried Orange County heifers to Tampa—to the show.
Youngers
So you showed dairy cows?
Tucker
Showed dairy cows and beef cattle. Yeah.
Youngers
Alright. And did you show any hog, or anything like that?
Tucker
No. Never was very intrigued by hogs.
Youngers
I can understand. So you won a scholarship through doing your shows and things?
Tucker
Through the 4-H. yeah.
Youngers
Well, good. Okay.
Tucker
Wasn’t a very big scholarship, but in those days, every penny counted.
Youngers
Exactly.
Tucker
I think it was $100, or something like that.
Youngers
Well, good. And that helped you get into the University of Florida?
Tucker
Well, no, it just helped to pay some of the expenses when I did get in.
Youngers
When you went there, did they have, like—was it still an all-male college, or…
Tucker
You know, I need to do a little research on that. It was close. We did have—when I was attending there, it was co-ed. But it was pretty close to the time that it became co-ed, because I went there when—as I was active in 4-H, we used to go to what they called “Short Course.” And we spent a week at the university in the summertime every year. If you won that position in 4-H, you could go to Short Course. So I had been to Short Course, I guess, every year for five, six, seven years. And so I was involved there at the university as a 4-Her long before I got there as a student, so I knew some of the things that was going on.
Youngers
And they already knew you. They were expecting you.
Tucker
Yeah.
Youngers
So is that what you went to college for was for the agriculture?
Tucker
Yes.
Youngers
Did they have a specific program?
Tucker
I was going to major in animal husbandry. And did.
Youngers
Okay. And you went for four years at the university?
Tucker
Well, I actually went for four years, and I was thinking about going to vet school. And at that time, the only vet school was in Auburn, Alabama. And I applied, and the earliest I could get in, I would be already out of college. You had to wait two or three years to get in. So I decided I would back up and look at the feasibility of going into—I was interested in either extension agriculture, extension work, or in research. So, I ended up going toward a Master’s degree. So I got my Master’s degree, and had an opportunity to go into extension down in Marion County, in Ocala. And that’s what got me into County Agent.
Youngers
So after you graduated, you went right into the [Marion County] Extensions Office? Wow. And you were the youngest, one of the youngest in the state?
Tucker
Well, there were a lot of young assistant county agents my age. But when I became the full agent, I was the youngest at that time of that.
Youngers
And had you—when you first started out with the Extensions Office, did you work there for a while, or did you just go right into the position that you were in?
Tucker
I went right in. When I graduated from university, in Marion County, Assistant Agent position opened up. I applied for it, and received it, and went right into it. And so I was very fortunate, because Marion County was one of the most active 4-H counties in the state. They had numerous state titles, teams, judging teams that won. And then 4-Hers that won positions and went to Chicago[, Illinois], or the national deal. And so it was a great county to go into for training.
Youngers
What did you do at the Extension Office when you first started out there?
Tucker
Well, I—my job was two-fold. As a—see, at that time, I had a Master’s degree in Animal Husbandry and Nutrition. So, I had a job in Marion County working with the cattle people. And then I had the job of being 4-H Agent. And so, as leader of the 4-Hers, I ended up training judging teams. We had judging teams in dairy, and judging teams in beef, and judging teams in poultry.
Youngers
And you taught them, like, what to look for in the animal…
Tucker
Right. In the area of poultry—I didn’t know that much about it, but I found somebody that did.
Youngers
That seems like it would a little bit more in-depth.
Tucker
Yep. But we had some good teams. Some great 4-Hers there.
Youngers
So, when you say, working with the cattle there, like what types of cattle? What types of things did you do with them?
Tucker
Well, it had to do with the cattlemen on their pastureland, and any problems they had with pastureland. And, of course, we had a number of purebred ranches in the area. Some of them were Brahman, some of them were Shorthorn, some of them were Hereford. And Angus. So it was a good training area for me.
Youngers
It sounds like it. And how long were you with the Marion County office?
Tucker
I was with Marion County for two years, and the, just before I left Marion County, the county agent of Marion County—he’d always been quite interested in the Sheriff’s Department, and in fact, he periodically would go on with the Sheriff’s Department on activities, and it became available to him to be able to get appointed as Sheriff. And so he took it. So I was appointed for a brief time as acting county agent in Marion County—big county.
Tucker
But at the time, I had already applied for the job of County Agent here in Sanford, Seminole County, because it had became available.
Youngers
And it was closer to home.
Tucker
And it was the closest one home.
Youngers
Now, when you were up in Marion County, did you live up there?
Tucker
Yes.
Youngers
Okay. Good to know you didn’t try to commute every day.
Tucker
No, no. I lived there.
Youngers
So once he took the position as Sheriff, how long until you got to come down here? I mean, did they find someone else?
Tucker
Yeah. They found someone right away. In fact, I was just Acting Agent to take care of some things at the school. I wasn’t in the county, just for—goodness, it probably wasn’t for more than six or seven months.
Youngers
Then you come down here.
Tucker
Yep.
Youngers
Okay. You want to talk about what you did down here, which was a lot?
Tucker
The county agent that was here at the time—it was an interesting situation. He had—he had almost retired before his retirement. And some of it’s understandable. During the [Great] Depression, they cut back drastically on salaries. In fact, one of the stories told is: one of the farmers said to him, “Charlie, I heard they cut back your salary. Cut back 25 percent.” [laughs] He says, “Doesn’t that bother you?” Charlie says, “Well, yeah. But no, I just set the lever back 25%percent.” Well, he had done that. And he was fortunate that he was—had been in place for a long time. And the farmers were a little unhappy that when he first came in to the county, he did a tremendous job as county agent. I went through his files and things, and letters and all that he sent out, and he did a remarkable job. But after the episode with the salary and all of that, I think he was fortunate that he was real close friends with the director of Extension.
Youngers
Goodness. So you came in about mid-1950s, into Seminole County?
Tucker
In 1956, I came here. The joke in the community was that, well, if you want to look for the county agent, just go down to Roumillat and Anderson’s Drug Store. He’ll be down there in the coffee shop.” So I says, “I tell you what. You won’t find me in Roumillat and Anderson’s. I’m going to go down to the other drug store.”
Youngers
Oh, goodness.
Tucker
But Charlie had—Charlie had a good job. It was just there towards the end.
Youngers
He was ready to go.
Tucker
Yeah. And some of the old time farmers here, they pretty well understood. And so—but he was—the day came time for him to retire. It was pretty well fixed.
Youngers
So when you came in, what types of things did you do down here?
Tucker
Well, one of the first things I did was to begin to get the 4-H going. Because there wasn’t much going in that area. And then I started working on the—bringing all of the mailing lists of the various farms—the citrus growers, the vegetable growers, the cattlemen—bringing those up to date. Charlie pretty well had a list, but he wasn’t keeping all of it up-to-date. And that was one of the things I worked on.
Youngers
So there was quite a bit of agriculture planting?
Tucker
Yes. There was. In those days, we still was one of the more active vegetable producing areas in the state. And we had quite a bit of citrus here. We had probably 15 to 18 thousand acres of citrus.
Youngers
And that was in the Sanford area?
Tucker
In the Sanford area—Seminole County area. Now, the unique thing about that is, Seminole County is the fourth smallest county in the state in land area. So to have much acreage of anything is a little unique, because of the size of it.
Youngers
I know the big thing that I’ve heard is, like celery and citrus.
Tucker
Yes.
Youngers
But I know there was maybe some other things in there, as well.
Tucker
Well, in the—in those days, the nursery part of it was not—it was just beginning to come on. And in the ‘70s, we predicted that the nursery part—ornamental, horticultural, nursery—was probably going to outstrip the rest of it. And it has. But that’s just one of those things of how an area changes to meet the needs of the community.
Youngers
Wow. And what about like agriculture—beef and things? I know there’s still quite a bit of it here, but not as much as it was.
Tucker
No. In fact, the only thing that is as much as it was is ornamental horticulture. The vegetables has dropped way down. Almost nil right now. Beef cattle is still, over in the eastern part of the county is where most of the traditional pastureland was. And it’s still a lot of it over there.
Youngers
So that’s like, Geneva?
Tucker
Geneva. Yep.
Youngers
Oviedo kind of area.
Tucker
Chuluota. Yep. Kind of area. Osceola.
Youngers
Chuluota. Osceola. Okay. Back in those days, was it more prominent? Did it come further into Seminole County, or is it just kind of always in that general area?
Tucker
It’s always been out in that area, although every area in the county had some cattle scattered in it. Not today, but back in those days.
Youngers
No. Definitely not today. Now, when you were with the exchange office, you were telling me earlier about getting the new buildings, and even using this building, the county home building,[1] as an agricultural office. Could you tell me a little bit more about that?
Tucker
Alright. Let me back up before that. I probably developed more offices for the county than any other department head. When I became county agent in 1956, we were in the bottom floor of the courthouse. I called it the Salt Mine Section of the courthouse. And it was just basically one big room, which housed my office, the home economics agent’s office, and we had Agriculture Stabilization and Conservation [Service (ASCS)], the old AAA. That office was also in that area. And so, basically, and I was trying to develop part of the program that we provide in extension to farmers is information about agriculture. And some of the best information that Extension has available are the bulletins that they print on the various topics. So, I determined that we were going to have a—when I was working my way through college at the university, one of my jobs, I worked in the bulletin room. And we sent out to county agents all over the state. They would send in an order for so many bulletins of this, so many bulletins of that. And so I was involved in shipping those out to the various agents. So I was pretty well familiar with the—what was available in bulletins. And I determined, in Seminole County, we was[sic] going to have the best supply of bulletins south of Gainesville. And we did.
Youngers
Wow. What kind of things did the put out for bulletins? Was it like that tell of, like maybe a pest type thing for plants, or…
Tucker
Right. They would have a bulletin out on chinch-bug control. And a bulletin out on varieties of grasses. You name the topic, and they had it. In vegetables, there was a general vegetable production guide that gave how many pounds of seed, and how you would do for all the vegetables for growing a garden.
Youngers
So being down here in Seminole County and making more offices, and making more of this information available, you were very helpful to more of the general population here, to help them with their agriculture.
Tucker
Yeah. And that was part of the making information available. So when I came in to the—to the Salt Mine Section of the courthouse, it was a little bit difficult to do what I wanted to do with the—just that one big room. So, I showed—in those days, the [Seminole County] Clerk of the Court pretty much ran the county. And so, I was to see Mr. Herndon, and I said, “Mr. Herndon, I know we really need a little bit more office space. And the other day, I was downstairs here, on the other side our office in this big storage area down here, and I could regroup a lot of stuff that’s in there, and make an office right there.” He says, “Son, let’s go down there and see what you talking about.” So I went down there and showed him, and he says, “We’ll think about that.” And he agreed, as I recall. I don’t think I even had to restore the stuff. They moved it around. And so we put an office in, and it was an all-inside deal. I didn’t have any—if I’d had claustrophobia, I would have been in trouble, because there wouldn’t have been any windows.
Youngers
No windows. Wow.
Tucker
But it provided more wall space to do what I wanted to do. And that was to put these bulletins available for people to see and pick up.
Youngers
Right. And then did you all stay in that office, or did you eventually move out into the new one?
Tucker
Well, we were there until the early ‘60s. The judges needed more room. And we had made our space into a pretty nice office area, over the course of time. And so they wanted that space. So again, I says, “Mr. Herndon, there is an abandoned county building. It’s a good building. It has a potential. And what I’d like to do is for us to create a[sic] ag[ricultural] center and move all the agriculture people we’ve got—we’ve got soil conservation, plant inspector, we’ve got ASC here, and put all of us in one area for the farmers just to come into one spot. To see all these things.” And so, he says, “Well, we’ll think about that.” Well they appointed a committee, and I was on the committee, and we created the Ag Center at the Stockade building down here.
Youngers
And that’s where everybody moved with you.
Tucker
They all moved with me.
Youngers
Wow.
Tucker
Yeah. So then they wanted more space for the road department. And that was shortly about the same time that the county home had moved out of here. And so I said again, “I know where there’s a place that would really work out better for us, because we’re a little bit crowded here for all the people for the Ag Center.” And they agreed to it.
Youngers
So you made this entire area here?
Tucker
This entire building became the Ag Center.
Youngers
Wow. And how long was that office here?
Tucker
From the middle ‘60s until 19—I think Frank [Jazzen] moved over into the new Ag Center in the mid-70s.[2] I had already left as county agent at that time.
Youngers
And how long were you County Agent?
Tucker
Thirteen and a half years.
Youngers
Wow. So what did you do when you were done being the county agent?
Tucker
I had an opportunity to go into a farming operation growing watercress down in Oviedo. Went into a watercress-growing enterprise, another young fellow and I. And after a couple of years, well, we ended up merging with Don Weaver and his brother-in-law, and created B&W Quality Growers. That grew into a pretty sizeable watercress-growing operation. We were the largest in the eastern part of the United States. And we had farms in Pennsylvania, Tennessee, and Florida. Later on, I got out of that.
And Joe Baker, who had Baker’s Dairy over here, was interested in my coming to work for him. In fact, when he found out I had gone into the watercress, he says, “Cecil, you, uh, I didn’t know you was[sic] available.” I said, “Joe, I probably wasn’t available for anything except what I did.” Because it was a good opportunity that I got into. Anyway, when I got out of the watercress deal, I went to see Joe. He says, “Yeah. I’m still interested in you.” And he says, “When can you start?” I says, “Well, I got a couple of things I got to finish at home. I’ll need a couple of weeks.” He says, “No. I need you to start Monday.”
Youngers
Alright then.
Tucker
So, I managed Baker’s Dairy here for a couple of years. And then, well, let’s see. I got out of Extensions in 1969. And then I was in the watercress business for a couple of years. And then I managed Baker’s Dairy for I guess it was about a year and a half on each one of them. In 1972, I opened my own farm and garden supply store in Sanford. Tucker’s Farm and Garden Center. And we ran that as a family operation for the next 30 years.
Youngers
And it’s Myer’s now?
Tucker
Yeah. Horstmeyer [Farm and Garden]. Horstmeyer. Yeah.
Youngers
And when did you sell that there?
Tucker
Well, I sold it to my son in 198—1983. That’s when I moved to Christmas. Let’s see, ’83-’84 —somewhere along in there. And he sold it to his friend, Horstmeyers[sic], in—about 15 years later.
Youngers
So during the time that you lived—or that you worked—out here in Seminole County, did you still live in Christmas?
Tucker
No. I’ve always lived in—from the time I came here as County Agent, I’ve lived here in Seminole County. I didn’t move back to Christmas until I sold the store and moved back to Christmas in the mid-80s.
Youngers
So you lived in the Oviedo-Chuluota area?
Tucker
No. Always right here in Sanford. Actually, over here is what’s called Citrus Heights. That’s where we lived.
Youngers
The whole time?
Tucker
The whole time. Yeah. Well, I shouldn’t say the whole time, because I bought a house on Rosalia Drive, and we lived there a few years, and then I lived out her. [laughs].
Youngers
Now, during all this time you met a lovely lady?
Tucker
Actually, I met her and courted her while we were in college at the university.
Youngers
So she went to University of Florida too?
TuckerShe went to the university for a while. Her mother had to have an operation, and that was money sending her to college had to be used. And so by that time, she and I had gotten pretty serious, and she got a job working for an orange packing company in Orlando. And after—I don’t know—a little over a year we ended up getting married. And then she came back to the university.
Youngers
How’d you win her over? Did you do anything special? Or did you just say, “Alright, woman...”
Tucker
We need to make that a continued story. I’ll be right back.
Tucker
Now then, you was[sic] wanting to know about my wife.
Youngers
Yes, sir.
Tucker
Well, during the year that she was—I knew her—knew of her—before we got to university. I doubt if she knew too much about me beforehand, but we—I was a member of the Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity, agricultural fraternity there, and I would invite her every guest night to come over to the fraternity house and eat with us. And so they got to be pretty—and by the way, you’ll want to put Ms. [Mart Albritton] Tucker on your list as one to do an oral interview.
Youngers
I will do that.
Tucker
Because she is an old-time—as an Albritton, old-time Florida family. But she’s been active here in Seminole County. She helped me in to get the store going. She’s active in the cattle operation. In fact, when I was running the store, she did as much of the cattle work as I did. We had a—a pet at the store. It was a wild pig that became pretty well-known in the community. She used to take it on a leash downtown when she went to make the deposit at the bank. She’d carry the pig with her.
Youngers
What was his name?
Tucker
Pete. Streaky Pete. Pete the Pig. And he grew to be about 700 pounds. But anyway, that’s another story. But she was active in the [Seminole County] Farm Bureau—in the women’s deal at the Farm Bureau. She was active in 4-H, doing some of the judging, and some of the 4-H activities here. And of course, when we were opening the store, she was part of that. So she’d be another one.
Youngers
And she—so you all married before you graduated?
Tucker
Right.
Youngers
So she went to Marion County with you?
Tucker
Yes. In fact—well, let’s see. Before I got my Master’s, she was expecting my daughter. And she typed my thesis. And then when we moved to Ocala, uh—trying to remember at what point—my daughter was born before then.
Youngers
And you have one daughter?
Tucker
I’ve got one daughter and two sons—twins. They were born on my daughter’s second birthday. And then, we have an adopted daughter, as well.
Youngers
And you all have always had cattle in your family?
Tucker
Yes.
Youngers
Put your boys to work?
Tucker
We’ve had cattle in our family since as far as we can tell, going back into the 1700s. And that’s another thing I’m researching, because one of these days, that’s going to be a part of my book too.
Youngers
Wow. That’s a long time. Okay. As far as the cattle in your family—the history—that’ll be good?
Tucker
Yeah.
Youngers
Do you have anything else that you want to add to our…
Tucker
Well, let’s see. Well, there’s a lot of things we could go into and talk about [laughs].
Youngers
We could always come back and talk about different things, if you wanted to.
Tucker
The problem of being able to have—to build a program when the county didn’t have any funds, it was a problem. I needed—and of course, I was always on the low-end of the pay scale. If it wasn’t for the fact that this is where I wanted to be, I’d have gone somewhere else. In fact, when I left to go into the watercress, I was offered a job paying me twice as much I was in extension. And he couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t take it. Because my opportunity that I was going into was better [laughs].
Youngers
Right.
Tucker
Well, let me look here. See if there’s anything—this is interesting. When I came to the county, the phone number for the county agent’s office was 470.
Youngers
470? That’s it? [laughs]
Tucker
[laughs] 470. That’s it. But we went through the medfly infestation, we went through the fire burning the [Sanford State] Farmers’ Market down, and having to help get things going for it to build back up. We had, in ’57—late ’57, early ’58 —a severe freeze deal that actually we had cattle dying, because there wasn’t enough hay, and we brought in hay for that. We had—one of the projects that I worked on was the eradication of screwworms. And my dad was involved in that. That was one of the miracles of using atomic energy to eradicate the screwworm fly. The female fly mates only once. And so they found that if they would raise screwworm flies and eradiate them with atomic energy deal, it sterilized the males, and they put these male flies out in the area, and they mate with the wild females, and the eggs wouldn’t hatch. And by continually doing that, they lowered the population of the screwworm fly to completely eradicate it.
Youngers
Really? So it’s gone for good?
Tucker
Yes. Yes. it’s gone.
Youngers
Wow. That’s amazing.
Tucker
And my dad was involved in that. He was an inspector. And in fact, some of the first pastures that they put the medfly—I mean the screwworm fly—out in was his pasture. So, when I was County Agent, of course I would make contact with the cattle people, and pass along the information to him about what was going on, and if there was an outbreak somewhere, they’d get on top of it.
Youngers
Did they still have the technique of doing the cow dipping?
Tucker
Yes. Now, the cow dipping—this was to eliminate the cattle tick—the fever tick. And in the early ‘50s, they was[sic] still—in fact, my dad worked with that. There’s still a lot of the, uh, dipping going on. Getting rid of the fever tick. And that lasted until, I guess, the early ‘60s.
Youngers
Right. Is that something that they were able to just control?
Tucker
They were able to control it by dipping continually. They were able to eliminate the fever tick. After they wiped out a bunch of the deer who was perpetuating it. And some of your family was involved in that.
Youngers
Yes, sir.
Tucker
Oh, let’s see. We had a fire ant infestation that came into the county and we almost got it eliminated by flying [Boeing] B-17s [Flying Fortress], and putting out Myrex, until the do-gooders got involved and killed the program.
Youngers
And we still have fire ants.
Tucker
And we still have fire ants, and we’ll always have fire ants. But we came about within two flights of eliminating them.
Youngers
Wow. Now, did that have any—the chemicals used, did it have any effect on people? Is that why people got involved?
Tucker
The problem is it could create some problem in the water and affect fish, and that sort of thing. But we could have eliminated that. You know, by staying away from those areas. Anyway. Well, let’s see. Any other questions?
Youngers
No. Not if there’s anything. I mean, I have lots of questions. I know you’re big into the rodeo, and you’ve done a lot for 4-H, and different things like that, but we can come back maybe and talk about that another other time.
Tucker
Well, what do—yeah. Make a list. And we’ll do it. And like I said, I think you need to interview my wife, because I think you’ll find that to be interesting, as well.
Youngers
Absolutely.
Tucker
There’s a lot of little ins and outs of what went on here in the county.
Youngers
Well, I’ll definitely schedule a day with her, so she can come in and talk to me.
Tucker
Good deal.
Youngers
Well, I appreciate it very much.
Tucker
And I appreciate your being on board to help do these things.
Youngers
Absolutely.
Tucker
We want to look through the list of people and be sure that we get some—thing of it is, we’re five years late on a lot of people that passed on. Joe Baker, he—would have been great to be able get his. And I want to set up Don Weaver.
Youngers
Okay.
Tucker
Don Weaver and his family was—they came here from Pennsylvania. But they are pioneers in the watercress industry in the United States. And he lives down in Chuluota, on the south side of Lake Mills. And we’ll work out getting that set up. Anything else?
Youngers
No, sir.
Tucker
Okay.
Youngers
Thank you.
Morris
This is an interview with Garnett White. This interview is being conducted on October 13th, 2011, at the Museum of Seminole County History. The interviewer is Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Sir, could you tell us a little bit about yourself?
White
Well, yes. I was born in St. Augustine, Florida. My father was a butcher—or meat-cutter, I guess we would call it. We moved to Sanford when I was maybe three years old. I remember when I was four years old going to a birthday party to a neighbor girl—and as I’ve over the years have tried to think when that was. I believe I was about four years old. We lived on [West] Tenth Street in Sanford, and my father worked as a butcher—meat-cutter—and he moved here from southwest Georgia—called Pelham, Georgia—and he went to work here for a man from Pelham, Georgia, named Bluitt Stevens.
We lived on Tenth Street until I was in about second grade, and my father had a house built on Tenth and [South] Laurel Avenue, and he still worked for Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens owned a store in Downtown Sanford where the Colonial Room Restaurant is now, and it was called Triple S Groceteria—the red front store, and that time is about the time I started school, and I went to Southside Elementary [School], where my first grade teacher was a Mrs. Jacobs, and the principal was Mrs. Harrington. And I remember those times. I went up through the fourth grade. And in the second grade, Elizabeth Wigham was my teacher. And the third grade, was a lady named Bobbi Goff. And the fourth grade, was a lady named Bobbi Goff. And this was only about three—maybe four—blocks from my home, and back then, of course, you didn’t have buses like that, and I remember walking to school when I’m six years old, and of course today, they don’t allow that type of thing, but it was not out of the ordinary at all.
One memory I have of that is that the lunch. The lunches cost 11 cents. You got a blue ticket for five cents, and that gave you the food—a roll usually, amongst other things—and milk was six cents. That was a yellow ticket. And I think you could get all five for 25—all five of a week for 25 cents, as well as I remember. But most people brought their own lunches. They did buy milk for six cents. And that was kind of interesting.
This would have been in about 1940 or ’41, and the Second World War started in 1941, and I remember big piles of metal, particularly aluminum, and rubber. This was to help the war effort, with aluminum to build airplanes out of—and I don’t know what they did with the rubber. But that was my first recollection of playing baseball—or softball, I guess it was—was at Southside Elementary.
Then we, uh—my grandfather was from Athens, Georgia, and he had his arm taken off. He had cancer, and my mother went up there to take care of him for about six weeks, and I, of course, went with her, and so I went to school for that six weeks in Winterville, Georgia.
Of course, coming back to Sanford, continued with school at—we called it [Sanford] “Grammar School,” which is now the Student Museum on Seventh Street and Elm Avenue in Sanford. They’d talk about it being so old, and so on. Of course, that was 70 years ago almost, but it doesn’t look any different today than it did back then. And they’d talk about it being old, and so on and so forth. Didn’t mean anything to us. You know, you had a seat and that was it. You know, scribbling all over the desks with knives. So on. So, you know, times—it just did not mean anything to us, as far as how new something was, and apparently nowadays you got to have a new school, or they don’t—or the children don’t accomplish as much, I guess, is a word [laughs].
But then—about when I was 11 years old, I got a paper route. Remember, this is during the war—the Second World War. And I got a paper route delivering The Florida Times-Union, which is the Jacksonville paper. They weren’t—the Sanford paper came out in the afternoon, and it was very hard to get newspaper or newsprint, and presses would break down, and I delivered The Sanford Herald also, about that time, and they had brown paper. It looked like the brown paper that’s used by butchers to wrap meat in, and that was kind of odd. And I’ve talked to people in the last few years, and they remember the paper being printed on that brown paper.
But something that is really kind of interesting is, over the years, I have talked and had coffee with Senator Mac Cleaver, and we would always talk about our paper routes. He was older than I was, but it never changes. And we would talk about who lived in certain houses, and where they would leave the money for the newspaper, and they still—me being eight years younger than Mac—they still left it at the same place—on the banister, on the porch, that type of thing.
Of course, after that, we went to Sanford Junior High School, which was over on Ninth Street and Sanford Avenue, and I guess that’s when we started growing up a little bit, and getting around town on our bicycles more than we did when we were very young. But we would ride our bikes down to the lakefront—which is Lake Monroe, down where the motel is now—and we’d jump off the seawall. It was there at that time. We’d jump off. We’d swim out to one of the beacons or markers out in the water. Another time—me and another fellow—we swam across the lake all the way to the power plant, and truthfully, we walked most of the way. It was very shallow out in the middle. We didn’t really walk. We just kind of touched bottom, and my father picked us up on the other side at the power plant on the north side of Lake Monroe.
But those were good times. It was not out of the ordinary to go downtown and walk around. Go through the alleys and see what people—or I’m talking about stores—had thrown away and did we want it, and that sort of thing, you know. It was—I really remember one time we went behind a place called [B. L.] Perkins. That was a men’s store. And there was a book of swaths of material that you could pick out what you—the men—would want their suits made out of. And we thought that—they were little old things about three by three inches, about three inches—and we thought that was a big deal. We took those home, and I think our parents threw them away. Anyway, as time goes on, in high school, went further from home, and went through all of the things, I guess, that happen in high school. And immediately after that, I joined the Navy and spent my hitch on board a fleet OR, and this would have been in 1950-51. But going all over town with paper routes, you just got to where you saw things you would never have seen, or people that you talked to or knew—you knew who they were, uh, if you didn’t have a paper route.
And then, as time goes on and I got out of the Navy, I got my—went to the real estate—school of real estate law—and, uh, got my broker’s license. And shortly thereafter, I met my wife, my now-wife. And we got married and had three children. As far as the real estate business is concerned, that was 50—I still have a license—and that’s 56 years ago. That’s a long time. I actually made a living at it. Only way I’ve made a living, up until about 6-7 years ago. And I’m 78 now, so it was time. But in the meantime, there’s quite a bit of property—not houses, but I never was much in the house business—that I’ve sold over that period of time three different times. There was one piece of property I sold three times. All three times were to people named Hall, and that they had never known each other, of course.
Morris
Of course.
White
So it’s interesting. And land would sell for—I can remember appraising. I did quite a bit of appraisals for the banks in Sanford and the First Federal Savings & Loan, and that really got me back into going to places that you normally wouldn’t go if you weren’t in the real estate business. As time goes on, I was handling acreage, as I said, and they pretty well quit farming in Sanford.
Uh, farming as they knew it at that time, which was produce—which was celery. You know, at one time, they said that Sanford—Seminole County I guess—was the celery capital of the world. And it was actually a picture in one of the school books that said “harvesting celery in Sanford.” I remember that. But after the war, they—the farming kind of petered out, because it all went to the muck, and the muck means that you don’t have to spend as much money on fertilizer. And the type soils that we have around Sanford—the farming areas—was good to hold the roots in place and that’s all. And that’s come from the farmers that said, “No, you got to fertilize.”
So muck farms in Zellwood and down in Lake Okeechobee pretty well had an end to the farming in the area. It’s my understanding from the owner of Chase and Co[mpany], which was a very large company—probably the largest farmer in Central Florida back in the ‘20s and—but the last celery grown in the Sanford area was in 1975. Now that came from the owner, president of Chase and Co., and his name was Sydney Chase—Sydney [Octavius] Chase, Jr. His father[1] and his father’s brother[2] are the ones that started Chase and Co.
Something really interesting is that, of course, all of this product had to be shipped by railroad. You know, you didn’t have trucks like you have today. You just didn’t put things on a truck, haul it to New York. It all had to go to—through the railroad, and so most every packinghouse—that type of thing—was located where it could be sent by the railroad. And celery—and cabbage, cucumbers, all of those things—required refrigeration. Well, if you’ll think back to 1925, you didn’t have no refrigeration. But they was able to make ice in big 300-pound “slabs” I’ll call them. Chase and Co. had an icehouse out on the east side of Sanford. There was another one in Ransidey[?], which is in Monroe, Florida, just west of Sanford on the railroad. And you had railroad cars called “reefer” cars, and that stood for “refrigerator.” And they would put these big 300-pound slabs of ice in these railroad cars. They were all painted yellow, and during the summer, there was a siding going—railroad siding going from Sanford Avenue out to the Chase washhouse, which is on Cameron Avenue. And that’s a long ways. And they would store these reefer cars all summer long, because they had no use for them except to ship produce, and of course, you didn’t grow produce in the summertime. Come summertime, in like May or something, would be the last that they grew until next fall and next winter. But I remember all those yellow reefer cars there, and I’m sure many other people that was[sic] out in that area remember just sitting on the siding and waiting on the next year.
But there was a lot of—another thing is interesting is it seems as though to me that the people that owned automobiles—and their kids went to school with me—they were farmers. And other people didn’t have automobiles. My father did not have an automobile until 1946, which was right after the war, and things became available to sell, particularly meat products.
But all of that—getting back to the real estate business, I would come across and I knew a lot of people in the citrus business. And as time went on, I sold some citrus groves, and I bought some citrus groves, and I leased several citrus groves. And our—my wife and I’s—two children kind of grew up knowing what citrus was, and you could go on the Internet under White’s Red Hill Groves and read about us, and it’ll tell you all you need to know about our family and the citrus business. But it’s been 29 years now since we purchased a gift fruit packinghouse called Red Hill Groves. So we have set out new trees and taken care of old trees, and picked and packed, and shipped citrus all over the United States. I would say there’s not a state we haven’t shipped fruit to. But times have changed considerably, since probably 1985 and things started booming—this is because of Disney—and started booming.
And another thing that’s kind of interesting here is that when I went to high school, Seminole High School had a hundred people in each class. And Crooms Academy had maybe 30, and Oviedo [High School] may have 15, and Longwood, which is called Lyman High School, may have 15. And look at it today, there’s what? Eleven high schools, each one of them got three thousand in that school. So that’s really what started happening during those years, and those of course, just kind of bloomed.
Really interested—I was very active in the civic things in the city—Chamber of Commerce, the Jaycees,[3] and that type of thing. As time goes on, I think I’ve been through four—they call them—they don’t call them “depressions,” whatever they call them.
Morris
Recessions?
White
Recessions. And I’ve been through four of them. And I can remember trying to sell houses for a hundred dollars down and making a commission. There ain’t much left to make a commission out of. But times would get better, and then you’d start selling again. People would start buying again. I guess time is going to tell about the one we’re in now in 2011.
But anyway, it was a good life that I lived in Sanford. It is much different. Traffic, as everybody knows, gets on your nerves. But all three of our children live in Sanford, while our packinghouse is in Orlando. The boys go back and forth every day, and our daughter works for Bayer Corporation in the animal health division.
So anyway, we—my wife and I—both feel that our time growing up in Sanford, and spending our entire life here, except for those maybe three years, has been good, and as good as any place we could have settled. I don’t know that we ever considered moving from Sanford, neither of us. But I guess that’s pretty well the story.
Morris
I have a couple questions, sir.
White
Sure.
Morris
Okay, sir. You talked a great deal earlier about the paper route you ran as a kid.
White
Right.
Morris
Was that a great experience for you? Because you spent a lot of time discussing how you met and saw a lot of things.
White
Oh, well, sure! There’s a little story that goes along with that, was we delivered The Florida Times-Union, and we had about 11 or 12 paper boys. And you’d go up and down. Each one of us had about a hundred customers.
Morris
Okay.
White
And you’d go up and down the streets, and there was a policeman that walked the streets at night named Harriet. And Mr. Harriet had a dog that went with him, because Mr. Harriet walked up and down the alleys, and all the way generally throughout the whole downtown area. Well, a friend of mine who lived four or five houses from me had a dog, and the dog would go with him on his paper route. Well, it seems as though Mr. Harriet’s dog would jump on him and bite him and all of this sort of stuff. So my friend bought a collar that had, oh, pieces of metal like a nail sticking out the side—sticking on it. Well, he sharpened those up. And we’re all sitting there one morning, waiting for him to come with his dog. He’d always come around this corner—First Street and Oak Avenue—and he would come around that corner. Well, we’re waiting to see Mr. Harriet’s dog jump on this dog’s neck with those sharp barbs, and he did and he went off just howling. And Mr. Harriet came out. There was a bakery there, and everybody—paper boys—we would go in there five o’clock in the morning and get day-old donuts, and so would Mr. Harriet, and he come out of there just raising Cain about who hit his dog. But that was interesting.
And I guess when I was a senior in high school, I had a car route, and I went to Monroe, Paola, went all the way to Wekiva River, and back up through Monroe. And a man named Bass—he was the last one on my route. And he was a farmer, so he told the paper manager that I was just getting there too late, that if I couldn’t get there five o’clock in the morning, that he wasn’t going to take the paper no more. So I had to rearrange my route so I could get him first instead of last. But that was interesting in that too. And the people—there’s still people around that deliver papers. We talk about it, every now and then, when you see somebody. But that was good experience, really was.
Morris
And you did that from when you were younger all the way through high school, sir?
White
Not all that time, no. But I got a paper route when I was 11 years old, so that’s gonna put me in the fifth grade. And I remember having a paper route in the seventh grade. I don’t think I had any until I was senior, from the seventh until that time.
Morris
Oh, okay, sir.
White
Because like, a lot of—something very interesting. I worked in a grocery store.
Morris
Okay, sir.
White
And you worked Thursday morning from about four o’clock in the morning, and Friday afternoon, and all day Saturday, for four dollars and something. Well, a friend of mine was caddying at the golf course, and he said, “Oh,” you know, “I don’t work but 4-5 hours and I make more than that.” So I went out and started caddying. So I caddied for several years.
Morris
Oh, okay, sir.
White
Because you made more money. You carry those bags around. If you did it twice, they called it “double looping,” you made more money than you would at the grocery store. But anyway, I think everybody sooner or later worked in a grocery store.
Morris
I don’t think that’s changed much, sir.
White
Huh?
Morris
I don’t think that’s changed much. I’ve worked in a couple grocery stores.
White
No. No. I see the kids in there now, and they’re—course we didn’t stay there until all night long like they do now. They put up stock now at night, and we didn’t do that. Anyway, it was good. Good times.
Morris
All right. You mentioned you were in the Navy, sir. How long were you in the Navy for?
White
I was in the Navy for one hitch. I was a quartermaster.
Morris
Okay, and one hitch is, uh...
White
One hitch is when I was on something called “minority cruise,” and that you means you join after you’re 18 and you get out when you’re 21, instead of a flat three years—four years, whatever it is. And I joined when I was a senior in high school, and this wasn’t too long after the war. This would be in 1950.
Morris
Okay.
White
And the war was over in ’45. So anyway—but I was a quartermaster. A quartermaster is someone who does signals and navigation, that sort of thing. And a fleet oiler is different than a tanker. A tanker hauls fuel from one place to another, and a[sic] oiler refuels ships at sea when you’re both underway—you’re both moving. And that’s what an oiler is. You still have oiler today, and always will, because you need it in the middle of the ocean just as you do alongside a dock. And I liked that—and I may have stayed in longer except the ship was going on Operation Deep Freeze, and that was in Antarctica, and I wasn’t going there, ‘cause I’d heard the stories about it before. Everything’s full of ice and all of that. Anyway, that was my military experience.
Morris
Did you travel anywhere on that, at that time, sir?
White
Oh yeah, sure. We went—first time when I went on board there, we went to New York City, which of course, here I am. Never been to New York City. We stayed there for like two days. Then we went to the Caribbean [Sea], down to South America to the Azores. Just that type—wherever. Maybe just sit out in the middle of the ocean waiting on a convoy to come that needed fuel. I mean, that was our job.
Morris
Right, sir. Did you enjoy your time in the military—the Navy?
White
Sure.
Morris
Just didn’t want to go to Antarctica.
White
I didn’t want to go to Antarctica, and probably if I’d have stayed in longer than that, I’d have stayed. I would have stayed to retire. But I didn’t, and not been disappointed in that at all.
Morris
Okay, sir. You also mentioned you worked with civic duties for a while. So tell me a little more about that.
White
Well, 1963, I started civic-type stuff. Well, I was a Boy Scout. And I’ll have to go through the Boy Scouts [of America] first. But the Boy Scouts—I was a[sic] Eagle Scout, and I worked at summer camp as a waterfront director-type person. I guess I was 16 then, maybe 17. Sixteen and seventeen. I worked two years, one at Camp Wewa over in Apopka. The other one was Camp La-No-Che. Excuse me, Camp La-No-Che wasn’t open then. See, that’s 50 years ago, and most people never heard of Doe Lake [Recreation Area], and Doe Lake was in Ocala [National] Forest. And that was a Boy Scout camp and I worked there at that time. But I was a[sic] Eagle Scout, and that was a big deal to me. And we didn’t have many Eagle Scouts around here. Well, around anywhere. That was good.
Morris
I’m sorry, sir?
White
Yeah. You asked a question before that. What was that?
Morris
Your civic duties, sir.
White
Oh. Well, in the Boy Scouts, believe it or not, we actually did a lot of things civic-wise. But I was president of the Sanford-Seminole County Jaycees[4] in 1963, and the Jaycees were very active at that time.
Morris
The Jaycees, sir?
White
Junior Chamber of Commerce.
Morris
Gotcha, sir.
White
Okay. [laughs] And—very active. Had maybe 150 members, and had maybe 150 projects. These were things that, uh—and that was a big time in my life. For instance, we had a Christmas parade that we sponsored and worked. That was the big project for the year—the Christmas parade. And the year I was president, we had 11 bands, and nowadays, if you have one, you got a bunch of them. We had a hundred people working, doing whatever it took to make the parades. But it was always that way. And I have paperwork to that. So—I say “paperwork”—we made booklets of our projects. Some of them. I don’t have all of them. But it was a[sic] active time for people up to the age of 36. When you were thirty-six, then you were no longer…
Morris
Junior.
White
Invited, I guess, to be a Jaycee. And then, I was president of the Seminole County union of the American Cancer Society, and I was president of the Greater Sanford [Regional] Chamber of Commerce. Prior to that, it was the Sanford-Seminole County Chamber of Commerce, and I was a director for 25 years of the Chamber. So, you know, there were those. I was a bank director for 15 years. Served on the board of Seminole State College, as vice-chairman of the board for however many years. I don’t remember. So that was civic-type stuff.
Morris
Okay, sir. Sounds like you were very busy.
White
Yeah. I was busy. I was busy. Knew a lot of people. Most of them are dead now, but, uh, and I’ll join them before too many years. Maybe tomorrow [laughs].
Morris
That’s why we’re getting this down today, sir.
White
Get that out today. Okay.
Morris
Could you tell me a little bit about your family? Your wife’s name, how you met her, and then your children’s names.
White
Yes. I’d gotten out of the Navy, and just got out really, and me and another fellow went to Leesburg High School—to a football game. This was in September, before—after—I had gotten out of the service in August, I guess. Anyway, this girl was a cheerleader, and had black hair. And afterwards, you always used to have dances always—and out of town also. And back then, the girl cheerleaders would always go to the dance, and so me and this fellow went also. And I met her, and then—from then on, had a few dates with her. And anyway, three or four years later, we got married. We have two sons. One’s 54, one’s 53. Have a daughter about 44—something. And the boys run the packinghouse. Have for 20. I say “running” —that’s only partially, mostly. They’ve—that’s 29 years. And a daughter that works for Bayer in the animal health division. Anyway. I guess that’s it. And got grandchildren [laughs].
Morris
How many grandchildren, sir?
White
Well, three. Three boy grandchildren. And one of them works for the city in Palm Coast, and the other one works for the car place—Gibson [Truck World]—down here, and the other one’s thirteen. He goes to school.
Morris
Okay. Is it okay if we get your wife’s name and your children’s names?
White
Paulette. Paulette. My wife’s name was Paulette Casen. It’s Paulette White, of course. And the children are Ed [White], Ted [White], and Judy [White]. And that’s their names.
Morris
Ed, Ted, and Judy?
White
Yes. Eddie, Teddy. [laughs] Yes. Ed, Ted, and Judy.
Morris
Do they still respond to Eddie and Teddy?
White
Oh, yeah, sure. Sure, sure, sure. Matter of fact, people their age call them Eddie and Teddy. But, you know, they have a lot of friends, since they’ve lived here.
Morris
Their whole lives, sir?
White
Yeah. They’ve lived here except when they went to college. Eddie graduated from Stetson [University]. And Judy graduated from [University of] Florida. One of the grandsons graduated from Florida and has a degree in architecture. I was telling a story to a fellow about architecture, and I was telling him I knew nothing about computer[sic]. I do know how to turn it on. But I said I have a grandson that has a degree in architecture, and he has never picked up a pen or a pencil. It’s all down on the computer, every bit of it. It’s kind of hard for people my age to think that—that you’re actually gonna draw a plan for a building with a computer, instead of a pencil [laughs].
Morris
I gotcha, sir.
White
Yeah.
Morris
The, uh—one of the things you mentioned earlier that really caught my attention was you said a lot of farmers had cars. Is that—do I remember that correctly?
White
That’s correct.
Morris
Were a lot of the farmers well-off, or was there...
White
During certain periods, they were well-off. Yes. And it was told to me that a farmer in the late ‘30s could make a living on ten acres of celery, and that’s not very much, but he couldn’t do that today. Same token. I’ve sold—I’ve sold property to people that owned an orange grove and did all of the work their self, and they had 20 acres, and they made a good living. They had a car, and made a good living on 20 acres. But they did all the work their self. They didn’t have somebody else doing the work.
Morris
Right.
White
And so, you know, there’s[sic] certain jobs that—if you’re cut out for it. Not everybody’s cut out to be a farmer. A lot of people are going to have to start thinking about it though, because somebody’s got to grow food to eat.
Morris
Sir, and I do like to eat.
White
And everybody likes to eat.
Morris
Yes, sir.
White
And the truth of the matter is there’s a lot of fussing going on now. People don’t like—well, one thing is dust. They don’t like the dust that farmers create when they plow their field. That’s the EPA—Environmental Protection Agency—and they want to stop that. Well, I don’t know how you’re gonna eat if you stop farm dust. But I’m talking out of bounds here.
Morris
Still interesting to hear, sir.
White
But that’s the way farmers feel. Although we consider ourselves farmers, we’re not farmers in the cattle business or corn business. We’re in the citrus business. But I guess you could say we could be in the citrus business without growing any of our own. We could buy it from somebody else, and pack it, ship it, and that would work, you know. But we do it all.
Morris
Okay, sir. My last question, if it’s all right with you, could you just give me a brief overview of how you actually grow citrus—the process for it.
White
Well, you plant a tree, and you grow it, and it ends up and blooms, and has fruit on it. That’s about it. It’s, you know—it’s just like any farming, and I think that’s what you’d have to say. It’s, you know—you’ve got to prepare the soil, if you want to call it. In the citrus business, you plant small trees—three feet tall—and after about five years, they have some oranges on them. Not very many, but enough, considered that you’ve got some fruit. And the maximum is about 20 years. And during this period of time, you fertilize them, and you prune them, and you just generally take care of them like a baby.
And things change in the business, such as—used to plant them 35 feet apart, and 35 feet in all directions, because the way that you get the weeds down was with a disc or harrow. So you went up and down the rows in one direction, and then across the rows in another directions to kill the weeds. And nowadays, you don’t do it that way. You plant them 10 feet apart in a row, and then you use chemicals to kill the weeds. And you also hedge them, because you don’t have that 35 feet. You have 10 feet. And you got big machines with big, round saws on it—three foot—and they’re spinning, and you go up and down the rows and make a hedge out of it. And that’s what’s really changed in the citrus business in the way that you grow citrus.
Plus, used to—you didn’t have very many ways to keep the fruit clean. Everybody wants to have a blemish-free piece of fruit. It don’t work that way. A friend of mine who used to disc and take care of the growth—first one I ever had—named Carl McWaters. His family was in the business, and he was a caretaker. He said, “Well, Mr. White,” said, “You know, my father worked for that packinghouse over there in Umatilla.” And whenever they had a—one of the diseases—not a disease—one of the bugs that you have. It’s called a “rust mite.” And a rust mite makes fruit look rusty. And he said, “Whenever we’d have a bad rust mite year, we’d go ahead and ship them up north anyway, and called them ‘Golden Rusty.’” Which made them sound a whole lot better than a rusty piece of fruit. So that was kind of interesting. Because they didn’t have any way to kill those rust mites.
And nowadays, you know, it’s an entire—oh, I don’t, what I want to say it. Crop protection, whether it’s citrus or other crops. It’s a whole world of taking care of those problems. In the United States and the agricultural business, the idea is to get rid of a problem instead of live with the problem. And that’s true with a lot of things, not just citrus. But, you know, if you got rust mites, you know—“Well, let’s get rid of those rust mites.” So you got 50 different companies out there trying to have chemicals to get rid of them. In a lot of countries that grow citrus, they don’t do that. They just live with it. And I see nothing wrong with that. But that’s kind of interesting too—how that kind of thing works. But, you know, the companies—some of the largest companies in the world are agricultural chemical companies.
Morris
Okay, sir.
White
Anyway.
Morris
That was it for my questions, actually. Did you have anything else you’d like to say?
White
No. Not really. I may have said a whole lot more than I should have, to start with. But, uh, anyway…
Morris
Well, sir, it’s all great. Thank you very much, sir.
White
All right. Nice to talk.
Miller
Very nice. You look good. Okay. Well, I’m Mark Miller, with a graduate student with UCF [University of Central Florida]. And I’m here with Peter Newman, uh—director, writer, everything to do with Celery Soup[: Florida’s Folk Life Play], and, uh, and a powerhouse behind Creative Sanford[, Inc].
So we’re here for an interview. So have you been, uh, with the project from the beginning—Creative Sanford and, um, Celery Soup, or anything?
Newman
Creative Sanford actually started, um, probably three years before we actually put on the first, uh, [clears throat]—the first performance. Um, it was based on, um, Swamp Gravy[: Georgia's Official Folk-Life Play], uh, which started in Colquitt in Georgia. And Jeanine Taylor, who runs the, um, gallery across the way there, was really the, uh—the, uh—the, uh, fountain of it. Um, and she came back from seeing Swamp Gravy and decided she wanted to do the same here in. And, uh—I think, um—I mean, she will be able to tell you the story better than I can. But somebody I believe gave her either a check or cash—$200—and said, “There you go. Let’s start it.”
Um, they ran, uh, three to four years with the, um, funding within the community doing things like the Celery Ball primarily, and other things like that, before they actually, uh, pushed the boat out and, um, got a hold a company up North, that actually also helped to create Swamp Gravy. And they came down here and they did the first show. They, um—they were, um, helping with the “Tea and Tells,” which is where the community stories were obtained. And then, uh, they have, uh, various professional people, like a playwright—and she took the stories, put them together and produced the play. Then they had professional directors, choreographers, lighting, and all the rest of it.
And, um, they came together and they produced, um, the first Touch and Go. Um, it’s called Touch and Go,because, as you probably know, there was an Air Force—no.it was Navy base [Naval Air Station (NAS) Sanford] here. They—they flew aircraft. Anyhow, Um, the—it was Navy, because the “touch and go” was practicing carrier landings, so what they’d come is—they’d come down in their jets, touch the tarmac, and then take off again, so hence the “touch and go.” That’s what we used to call it. And, uh, one of the, uh, people who was associated with it very early on, he had a story about watching the planes do that when he was, uh, young in the Second World War— just after.
Um, but we—we felt that, um, after we had done Touch and Go—and, I mean, it was a success. There’s no doubt about it, but after that, um—that we could, you know, really, uh, kind of run with it ourselves. I mean, you know there were[sic] a nice enough bunch of people used to doing it, But, uh, they charged an arm and a leg, so you know you can only sustain that for so long. Particularly in a place like this. So, you know, Colquitt, Georgia, is an amazing place, uh, and if you go up there to watch Swamp Gravy, it is the only show in town. And people come from mile[sic]—I mean, it is unbelievable when you go up there to see that hundreds of people that come to it. They come from all over.
Whereas here, um, on any one night that we’re putting on something by Celery Soup, you can guarantee that there are between perhaps four to ten other live shows going on in theaters within perhaps a 30 mile radius. And I believe that that is primarily due to the number of people here that are associated with [Walt] Disney [World]. And of course, you know that helps with the whole creative process when it comes around to theater and all its, uh, associated performing arts.
So we’ve been going now for about four years with Celery Soup. And we’ve went through a number of iterations. We went through, um, Touch and Go.And we put it on for—well, it was quite a timeactually. We put it on over a period of, um, I think it was 18 months to two years we put it on. And we just repeated it basically, though with different directors. So it’s like a different show, but mainly it was, uh—and to be honest with you, we got reasonable audiences.
Um, But I—I—you know, the time came when we had other stories to tell. and the first story that, uh—that I wrote, uh—to be honest with you, I got a little—and a lot of people did—got a little fed up with doing the same thing. I performed, uh, Touch and Go for 47 performances. I’ve never ever done that with any show throughout my entire life before that.
Newman
So I then picked up on this, um, story about the haunted fire station. Of course, it was just around the corner from the theater .and it was such a wonderful story and very easy to tell. It almost—you know, I sat in the middle of the theater—I think it was one Saturday afternoon—and I—it just kind of wrote itself, you know. Uh, very easy to do and Barbara [Farrell] had given us, uh, her story—there were various other sources that I could use like local books., and then when I wrote it, uh, I actually sent it to Barbara and said, “Look. You know you were right with this.” And she said, “The only thing I want to change in it is that…” Uh, the friend who comes to visit her from Coconut Grove, where Barbara first came from—she wanted her to be called Sue, because that was the name of the name of her friend.
Miller
Right [laughs].
Newman
Okay. So we try. It’s interesting, you know, that you do these things. And when you first look at them, uh, they’re words on a piece of paper, and you don’t really necessarily fully appreciate what there is behind that, but, um, when the—when the word is Barbara Farrell, you know—Barbara’s alive. I went out and met the lady. Very, very nice lady. Very charming lady. And, um, these people are sitting in the audience, so you know you’re actually, um…
Miller
Okay. We’re back after the vacuum break.
Newman
Okay. So, as I say, you know, um, Barbara was, uh, an excellent source. A very nice person. Um, the story was easy to tell, and it didn’t take much research, because it was just really all there. Uh, the only thing that we had to do was really knit together the story of the fireman and the story of Barbara, and then just push them together.
Newman
And really, um—you know, I know you want me…
Miller
Well…
Newman
To talk about how I got involved in this but—but—but, this is it, you see? Uh, I kind of got fed up with doing, uh, Touch and Go. I said to myself, Peter, if you’re gonna do anything, you’ve gotta to write it yourself.
So I sat down and wrote this story and I passed it to the board of Creative Sanford—said, “Look, I’ve written a story.” We then had a meeting. I think I wrote this—I can’t remember the exact dates, but I want to say I perhaps wrote this story in late November—in December. They had a meeting to discuss the next, uh, Touch and Go—whatever—whatever it was going to be called—by Celery Soup. And I sat there in the audience, and, um, they said, “Oh, the director’s going to be X and the choreographer’s going to be Y.” And—and this and that. And—and then we got two playwrights. One is Laura Donaldson and the other is Peter Newman. And that is the first time I ever realized that I was a—a playwright for Creative Sanford. So it was, you know—they say, you know, “Some people seek greatness. Others have it thrust upon them.” Mine was well and truly thrust upon me. So, you know, I—I came away from that realizing that I really had to, um—but it’s interesting you, know, because with, with that sort of thing, you know, you’ve got to start somewhere. And get from A and get to B.
Miller
Well this brings up, um, uh—why do you do history? I mean, you know, part of this whole process—I guess Swamp Gravy, and all—how come you do history for this sort of thing?
Newman
Well, uh, because that’s what it’s about. It’s about bringing out the stories that local people have of, uh—of what they’ve done. And turning that into—into some type of play that you can perform in public.
You know, we have—and I’ve sat through hours and hours and hours of these tapes and—and read and read, you know, people’s reports on, on their lives. And a lot of them are the same. Uh, you know, “I—I was born here. I was raised here. My mom and dad were strict with me when I was young. I went to school. Got a job. I got married, had kids, had grandkids. And now here I am and I’m talking to you about it.” And that might be over the course of three hours, you get something like that.
The secret with all of these things, Mark [Miller], is not, um, merely to put a recording device in front of somebody. What you have to do is actually drag out of them almost the interesting stories that they have. and there are very, very few people that come to us that have—that really have interesting stories kind of laid out in front of you.
We have two very notable exceptions there. And one is the family that tells us about Uncle Dieter. And the other is the family that tells us about Elmer Baggs. And the stories about those two individuals—and, uh, individuals they were—are an absolute legion. Uh, you know, we have quite a few of them. But some of the rest you really, really have to, you know, start digging and, uh— and—and—and trying to get at it.
And the history of it, of course, comes from the fact that, you know, history is really, uh, dependent upon how you define it. And for, uh, community theater such as this, we’re looking at, uh, contemporary history. So we’re not going back 65 million years to dinosaurs. We’re not going back 65,000 years. We’re going back 65 years. We’re looking at people’s life spans at what they’ve actually done. People who can remember going back into the 1910s, the 1920s. And, you know, sometimes…
Miller
Collective memory?
Newman
It’s—it’s—it is very much a collective memory. Um, the—the— the story that I wrote about the fire station starts with a fireman coming back from a fire in 1923 at the Holy Cross [Episcopal] Church, when it actually burned to the ground. Um, fondly enough we also have the story. Um, and—I can’t remember who for the life of me who it is just off the top of my head. But, um, it’s obviously a—a—an older, uh, guy, saying, you know—telling his story and whatever. And somebody says, “Oh yeah. Tell him about how you burnt the Holy Cross Church down.” [laughs] And apparently this—this—this person was the knave[?] at the Holy Cross fire. He was baptized. And he always thought that it was a candle that they left after his baptism service that actually was responsible for burning the church down. But it just struck me as being, you know, very fascinating that—that here I’ve got the Holy Cross Episcopal Church. Over here is the guy who’s giving his story that actually—that actually relates to that burning down.
So, you know, some of the things that we could tell instead of being snip-its could be much, much, longer. But of course, you know, you have to bear in mind what it is, know who you’re dealing with, and, uh, you have to have an eye to the, uh—the consumption of what you’re actually producing, rather than just producing for producing’s sake. It’s not something that is, um—it’s not an academic exercise. You know, what you’re dealing with. You’re dealing with living history, with real people. You’re dealing with their lives. It has to stand up to their own scrutiny. So if you tell me your tale, and I turn it into a play, I—I could look you fairly in the squarely in the eye and say, “Look, Mark,” you know, “Your story that you were telling in front of all of these people.” And you would be happy with that, as opposed to taking kind of mangling it around and producing all sorts of other things there to make it a little more interesting. I’m sure you have lots of interesting stories, but that’s nonetheless the way we have to have that in the back of our mind all the time.
Miller
So authenticity—that’s something that is very important?
Newman
Authenticity is very important. I mean, you—you can take it, um, to a degree. I mean, what—what you deal with, for example, you—you might—it’s I—I—I guess it’s like, um—it’s like a, um—a pudding. Uh, uh, and, in that pudding, you’ve got raisins, and those raisins are the bits of authenticity. And then you sort of, uh, really pad other stuff in. You— you can’t be authentic 100 percent of the time.
Um, the last story that—that I wrote, um, for the, uh—for, uh, Remade - Not Bought, was a story about a lady called Arthurene[sp] Wood[?], who worked in the tax office. And this is just a little story—she had about been almost locked in there one night. And, uh Arthurene actually came and—and said—Arthurene and Mona—that was her friend and that was absolutely authentic. But onto the end of it, I grafted this huge story about somebody writing a, uh, check on the side of a cow, which was, uh—was not authentic at all. It was just a, uh—a story, that’s what it was. But it, you know—it made for good theater. So you always have to have, um, an eye to what—what I say what the audience is. The audience will not sit there and listen to somebody going on about their childhood or anything like that, because it is not interesting. And you’re asking these people to pay money to come and listen to what we are producing at Creative Sanford. And you—you’ve got to have something that they are interested in, because, otherwise there’s no point in doing it. Because you’re asking them to pay and—and, otherwise, they go away grumbling and say, “Well, it’s not worth it,” and all the rest of it. You might be alright for that show, but, when it comes around to doing another show, then you find you’ve shot yourself in the foot, and have a much bigger mountain to climb, when it comes around to producing the audiences for a show like that.
Miller
Well, how do you pick your topics then? Uh, uh, apparently, uh, from what we’ve heard, there are, um, a few key words or something that you might—might choose to sort of build stories around?
Newman
To a large extent, it depends on the sort of, um, grist[?] that you have for your mill. Um, and it’s not something that you have as a sort of, uh, list of—of topics that you may or may not choose. It’s something that just stands up and hits you out of—soft of—like, for example, when I wrote, um, the highway man. That was something that, um, the, uh—the Sanford council or Seminole County, uh, lawyer. Uh, a guy called Doug[las] Stenstrom. And, uh, he gave his story. And, you know, uh, a very long, actually very entertaining, uh, set of reminiscences. And, out of this, there was[sic] a couple of lines about, um, the—uh, was it the paintings or did he actually mention the highway men? The—the, uh, Florida Highwaymen who painted these paintings, in the [19]50s and the ‘60s and sold them.
And, um, one of the guys that was originally associated with Celery Soup—a guy called Perry Eschelberg, who actually lives over in Serenity Towers—Bram Towers, as it was then. So I went and talked to Perry, and he said, “Yeah. We’ve got them here.” And he showed me all the Al Newton paintings that are there in the foyer, and you can still see this old one that was screwed to the wall. And so I thought then, This is such a—and fondly[?] enough at that time, um, from something of the public radio that they were talking about that something of the highwaymen. And then I saw something else on the local TV—they were talking about the highway men. So I thought, Right. I’m gonna get home and do— do my bit first. So I wrote this story so the only really, um, catch I could find in it. So to make it more interesting was they took all the highwaymen down, when they renovated the building, uh, a number of years ago and then they put them back up. Originally, I—I entitled it The Mystery of the Missing Highway Men Mystery. But, I mean, it was a nice story I—I felt, that kind of made it a—a little more interesting. Um, but, you know, the actual history of the highwaymen is— is fascinating. I believe, that over the next three or four years, that you’ll perhaps see a lot more people coming out with stories about the highwaymen more than—than what there’s been to date.
So, you know, how does anything stand up it? It—it—it just does, you know. We got, um— we got—at least I got—I got a story about, uh, somebody who used to have the land lease for the Mayfair Golf Club.[1] And, um, I— kind of researched it and then looked at it, and I didn’t—it took me a long time to actually find the angle that I wanted. But, um, I—I wrote what—what I consider to be a funny piece. but it’s, uh—we couldn’t put it on, because there’s this court case going through between the, uh, people who have the lease to the golf course and Seminole County, who actually own the land. And, um, it was about who designed the golf course. So I wrote this story about who designed the Mayfair golf course. So if you come to see next time, hopefully that story might be in there.
Miller
[inaudible]
Newman
Yup.
Miller
Well, we did see two that that we were interested—that we’re sort of focusing on. Um, one of them is about the rolling pin. And the other story is about Dr. [George H.] Starke. And, um, uh, we’re interested in how you picked those and how you approached them.
Newman
Well, first of all the—the—the rolling pin now—when we did this iteration of, uh—of, uh, Celery Soup, there were two—as I said before, there were two of us writing. One was Laura Donaldson, and the other was me. Now Laura actually found the story about the rolling pin. Again, uh, she got it from somebody,[2] who came in and told the story about the cannon, and—and its wheels, and what have you. And she produced a really nice little story about, you know, the rolling pin, the kids, and the—and the mother, and how they use to roll it out. And, you know, they were using a bit of history with that.
Um, Dr. Starke, um—that we used to have a lady,[3] uh, who was—she—she was in the original Touch and Go, and now she moved on to the Board of Creative Sanford. She’s, uh, um—she used to be a—a professor at the Seminole, uh, Community College.[4] And she said, um—talked to me about this—this, uh—Dr. Starke. And, um, she had a lot of, um, uh, information on him, which she gave to me. And, you know, uh, you read all this stuff.
And, uh, Starke’s interesting, because he was there. If you go down to the Orlando museum[5] in Downtown [Orlando], you’ll see they’ve got a big display about [George] Henry Starke, and—and the bombing in Mims, and—and in 1951. You know, when they killed the NAACP [National Association for the Advancement of Colored People] local secretary.[6] Um, so that’s all pretty graphically laid out. I went down there to have a look at that. And then [George] Henry Starke’s son—I think his name’s George [Starke]—he was, um—he became a lawyer and he’s a—he’s a—he’s a very well-known financer. He lives up there in New York, but I’ve never gotten a hold of him. But, uh, he’s still around.
But the—the story about Starke—I mean, it’s a really good story. There’s a lot of detail there. It affects a lot of people. Um, it was really how do you, you know, tell it—a story like that? And I—I noticed, when I was going through it, there’s a little time—a little footnote—that said that, when the original researchers were producing all of this information, you know, it said, uh, “As told to us by his—daughter,[7]” uh, “in a restaurant in” 1964, or whenever it was. So that—I—I—I kind of took that. That’s how I got the idea of the, uh—the restaurant and kind of bringing it in like that, which I felt was a, you know, uh—a good way of telling, and putting it in—in—in some sort of context. But it was interesting that, um, I, uh, you know—I’m not probably, uh, uh, a native of Sanford, but, um…
Miller
Live here, work here, play here.
Newman
[laughs] But, um, when, uh, we did the original Touch and Go, uh, there—there was a guy called Will Saunders, and his brother Tommy [Saunders]. Uh, they’re both, uh—black guys. And Will is, uh—really, really nice guys, they were. Will was, um—he used to be on the board of—of Creative Sanford, as well. but he said he preferred to, uh—it was a toss-up between Creative Sanford and watching his football. He preferred to watch his football, so, you know, that—that’s fine. But—but Will’s a great one for photography, you know. He’s taken thousands and thousands of photos of the, uh, Touch and Go shows over the years. In fact, I believe they’re his photos that they are there down there at the [Princess] Theater. But, um, he came to the, um, uh—the—the Starke—when we first did the—the, uh, Starke play. And he came down and said to me—what was it he said to me? He said, “Dr. Starke.” He said, “He actually delivered me and Tommy.”
So I, you know—it— it’s little things like that—that, you know, just make you realize that you’re not dealing with just words on a piece of paper. This is actually community. there are people that—even the lady, uh—Nancy [Harris] Ford, who’s in the show—I think, uh, uh—she was delivered by Dr. Starke, as well. So, you know, there, uh—obviously a very, very well-known guy, uh, and you know, uh, such a—such a, you know, uh—he—he—his attitude towards people was unbelievable. it really was. You know, uh, this—this string of humanity kind of pours out of the fellow, you know. And to appear twice in Time magazine is—is—is—shows he’s no slouch either. So, interesting guy.
Miller
Well, how do you deal with, uh, counter-narrative or, say, gaps in your story, or maybe sensitive areas? Um…
Newman
Well, um, sensitive areas—uh, of course, you know, it’s Sanford. Um, there was, uh, uh— there was segregation here obviously, uh, um, until obviously the mid-70s. and I was actually, um, going to write, um, a story about the segregation of the schools, which you could, um—between Crooms [High School][8] and, uh, uh, uh, Sanford, and—and, uh, the [Seminole] High School, uh, which was in 1972-[19]73. There’s, uh, uh, a friend of mine was there. Nancy Ford was there at that time, as well. And they both had their particular stories to tell.
But then, of course, we had the—the whole Trayvon [Benjamin] Martin and George [Michael] Zimmerman thing. And, uh, the board really felt that, you know, you could wade around in this ‘til the cows come home, but they didn’t really feel that it was something that we really necessarily wanted to—to overplay. Uh, and, in fact, you know, there is obviously, um—there’s a black element to this and there’s a white element to this.
Um, and really—I mean, personally, I’d like to see the—the things be a little close together, you know. It—it’s very difficult to, uh, write the stories that we’ve got, um, if you’ve—if you’re not confident that you’ve got the people—you know, the—the—the black people—to come and play the parts. I mean, luck—you know, luckily, we had some really good people., but it’s, you know—it’s—it’s particularly men, um, in the sort of 30 to 50 age range—whether they’re black, white, or whatever color. You know, you just can’t just go tell them that this is not the sort of thing that, you know, really does very much for them. So you—you’ve got to always bear that in the back of your mind. But certainly, you know, we are conscious of the fact that Sanford has, uh, perhaps—I don’t know whether it’s an unenviable reputation, because of what’s happened in the past. Um, and you—you don’t have to look very far to find it either.
In terms of other things, um, if you look at something like Uncle Dieter, uh—I mean, when I first saw that, they actually asked me to play Uncle Dieter in Touch and Go, which I did. Um, I—I was a little cherry about it, because, of course, you know, he was, uh—wasn’t quite an idiot savant, but very much this sort of, um, like, um, the play[9] Rain Man. you know, It’s—it’s—and it’s true that, you know, you could give him your birthdate and he would [snaps] tell you just like that what day of the week it was. You know, he—he—he kind of, you know, lived life to his own beat of the drum. You know, he—he would do things in his own particular way that—that nobody else would think of doing.
Um, he had this, uh—perhaps you didn’t see Touch and Go—but he had this, uh, rooster that he use to carry around with him that had no legs. And, uh, the—the—the joke was, of course, well, uh, “Where do you find a rooster with no legs?” Where do you find a rooster with no legs? Exactly where you left it. But apparently that—what we— we found out the reason why this rooster had no legs is because, uh, the rooster caught, um—I think it was some sort of parasite—something like that. And, uh, they advised Dieter to bathe the rooster’s legs in gasoline. I mean, and this would be like sort of, you know, like putting, um, gas—gasoline on a cloth and just rubbing it down—something like that. But he stuck this bird in the gasoline for hours. And, of course, eventually it lost its legs. Because of the effect of the gasoline. So he used to carry the rooster around, you know.
Just—just a man very much following his own light. And, you know, with people like that, it’s very easy to—to write stories about them. With people like that, you know, you’re not demeaning them or doing anything like that. And I think really, when it comes around to looking and—and, I mean, it’s not just here. It’s anywhere, you know. Uh, we’ve got a mix of cultures. You’ve got a mix of people. You know some are old. Some are young. So long as you don’t demean them, or run them down, which is totally unnecessary. Not what were about at all. Then I think you can legitimately tell their story to any audience that you care to invite through the door.
Miller
Very good. Alright. Um, so you’re telling stories about ourselves to ourselves?
Newman
Exactly.
Miller
Alright. [inaudible].
Newman
I mean, let’s be honest. I mean, you know, you have a story. You might think, Well, I mean, Okay. Fine. But, I mean, you have a story. You’ve got more than one. You’ve got a lot of stories. And, uh, it’s really up to the person who’s doing the interviewing just to kind of drag that story out of the person who is the interviewee. I mean, you know, not everybody sits down and goes on and on and on and on, like I do. You know, sometimes it’s very, very difficult to just bring the person back and say, “Well, you said about this and what about that?” But that is the only way that you can do it to get hold of information from them that you can’t get from a thousand other people. Because you’re not talking about their lives per se. you’re talking about their lives in Sanford and how they interacted within the environment and the community. And, of course, that’s not what everybody does around here, because some people live in Longwood. Some people live in Tallahassee. Some people live in Nigeria. You know, they’re—they’re all born and raised in a family, and perhaps go to school, and have kids ,and da de da de da de da. But it’s the environment that—that really makes the person and the way that they interact with the environment of the people. That’s what makes the interesting story.
Miller
How does the community react to your play and to your writing?
Newman
Well, generally speaking, we—we haven’t—well, we’ve had, um—it’s true to say that, as soon as you put anything on, and hold it up as being— here is a spectacle for somebody to look at and you’re asking them to pay money to come and see it. Um, it holds its self up to ridicule, criticism—call it whatever you will. And we’ve had our fair share of criticism. People criticize that it’s, uh—there’s[sic] too many stories about black people, or there’s[sic] not enough stories about white people, or, you know, this or that or—or whatever. But, to me, that is just healthy criticism.
If somebody came along and said, you know, “My name is Mrs. X. and my mother gave you this story. And that you’ve just done with my mother’s story, I think is just awful.” I would be very, very, upset about that. And I would want to know why this had happened, but, you know, touch wood. We’ve never had anything like that. Nobody has ever said, um, you know, that—that—that what you’ve done is terrible to the story.
That, in fact, um—when I played, uh, Elmer Baggs in the first show, Marlene Baggs came up and said, um, you know, that “I— I really enjoyed it.” I got the same thing from, um, Uncle Dieter and, uh, one of his nieces. She said that she enjoyed it as well, because, you know, we—we didn’t demean the person. You know, we told the story. And, if we added a twist of humor to it, as well, or a twist of mystery, you know, it doesn’t take a thing beyond the realms of—of probability. Then that’s—that’s really what you have to do, you know, when you’re telling all of these things.
You know, if the people have die—uh, died, and—and you tell the story about the founding of Sanford, or something like that, you go back to Colonel[10] [Henry Shelton] Sanford, you know—there were two of them. Him and a general. And they kind of tossed up to see what it was gonna be called and all the rest. They weren’t really proper Army generals, and you can do that. But—and it is history. But if—if you’re trying to be sort of faithful to the idea of a community—a historical performance—then it’s—as much as you possibly—if can, use live testimony opposed to something you get out of a history book, then I believe that that’s what you should be aiming to do.
Miller
Well, how do you go about collecting these histories?
Newman
Same way as you do with, uh—we’ve—we’ve done “Tea and Tells.” And these little recorders here are a godsend, because you just put them on the, uh, table and people talk into them. And, uh, you know, sometimes you go to sit and listen to them. Sometimes they’re transposed onto, uh, paper or something like that, so you can sit there and read them. But, you know, it— it’s, um—it’s an art, I think. Interviewing people and getting what you need to get out of them is an art. But generally speaking, um, there are very, very few people who don’t want to come in and talk about themselves, you know, not everybody, but, you know generally speaking, people aren’t resistant to talk about their lives, once you kind of start the ball rolling. It’s, you know—it’s a fascinating subject. You can sit and talk about yourself all night long if you really think about it.
Miller
Do you have writing background? Plays?
Newman
Um…
Miller
Plays?
Newman
Personally, no. The only writing that I—I mean, I was, um, associated with a theatrical group in the UK [United Kingdom] for a long, long time. And I did all sorts of stuff there, including writing. Um, but I’ve never actually sat down and, um, and written a book, or written a play, or anything like that. It’s just—it’s just kind of dabbling here and there.
And this one is as—is as good a place to dabble as any other, because you’re—you’re just looking at, um, little bites that you—that you’re performing. You know, nothing is more than five or six minutes long. Um, it’s, uh—you—you—you try to build the characters to make them interesting. And I—I know how these things should work, because I’ve had so much experience of doing it in the past. But, uh, you can’t afford—I—I—I mean, you can’t afford of subtle nuances.
You know, we’re not talking Broadway Theater. And, uh, and people who are going to the theater every, you know—every week or something like that. What you’re doing is you are producing mass entertainment. And that’s such—it has to be pitched at a certain level. So, you know, it’s—it’s not a question of using complicated plot lines that go on for half an hour, or spending 20 minutes trying to work, uh, you know—work out how a person’s psyche is actually affecting everybody within the—the play. No. You’ve got to have something that’s quick, that’s lively, that keeps people’s attention. And people have a very short attention span for things like this, generally speaking. So it’s gotta be that—it’s got to be—it’s gotta have a certain amount of “razzmatazz” that has to go with it.
At the end of the day, you’ve got to produce a commercial article, because that’s what you’re going to—to go out and sell. So yeah. You know, I mean, when—when I first wrote the—the fireman, you know, it had all sorts of stuff in it and, uh—but it was severely cut down, because, of course, it was just, uh—it was just not required. So you’ve got to be careful of these things.
Miller
Well, what do we have to look forward to in the future?
Newman
Well, it’s more of the same. Um, you know, we have got some, uh, uh, more stories here. I’ve got, um, three that I’ve written. Uh, there’s—there’s the one about the golf course. There’s the one about, uh, a policeman’s dog that used to go and, uh, and test door handles by itself. And then I also wrote one about, um, uh, a fight. It—it was when, uh—again, this was going back to the schools’ integration—and it was a story that a, uh, lady gave us. And I wrote, uh, uh, about that. So, you know, that’s a bit of a kernel there, and then we’ve got other things. And I believe that, um, UCF also has a library of things, because it—it might well be that we’ve tried to kind of keep it to Sanford. Um, but, you know, perhaps we’ll extend it to Seminole County, or something like that.
But there is still a lot of people here. I mean, even during the last show, one of the guys who plays, um—he played one of the firemen, and—and he was also the, um, uh, the president of the—of the Sanford, uh, local business society, right at the end there. His name’s Mike. [clears throat] He said that he knew a guy. Uh, I think this guy rented him a house, or sold him a house. He said that this guy’s father, uh—he used to brew moonshine, over there at the other side of Lake Monroe there. And, you know, the stories that he could tell. So, you know, you—you’ve gotta kinda keep your ears open for something like this. You know, just—just follow up on them. Like, if it’s something interesting like that. so, you know, we’ll look, uh—look and see if we can’t get something that’s light and entertaining next time.
Miller
Alright. Well, thank you very much.
Newman
I hope I’ve been light and entertaining
Miller
Yes. You have. Dramatically so.
Newman
Thank you.
Miller
[laughs] Thank you.
Newman
Alright.
Miller
I do appreciate it.
[1] Correction: Mayfair Country Club.
[2] Luticia Lee.
[3] Dr. Annye Refoe.
[4] Present-day Seminole State College.
[5] Orange County Regional History Center.
[6] Harry T. Moore.
[7] Helen Starke.
[8] Present-day Crooms Academy of Information Technology.
[9] Correction: film.
[10] Correction: General.
Thompson
Tell me a little bit about how you and Jack [J. Bridges] met.
Bridges
Jack was a former attorney for my first husband, Victor Green. They don’t call him Victor Green. He goes by his middle name “Mapes.” Mapes and I were his clients.
Thompson
Is that his mother’s maiden name or something like that? That’s an unusual name.
Bridges
Yes, because they didn’t want to call him Victor or Junior, so they called him by his middle name. He’s known here in Sanford. Everybody knows Mapes, but he was another generation. so the Greens and the Bridges were here in Sanford and they didn’t live too far from one another—3 Grandview Boulevard,[1] which is the former airport. So Alfred Green worked on the railroad with Jack’s daddy, and I think Alfred Green was the supervisor. He was higher in rank than Alfred. We have always seen Jack as our attorney. [laughs]
When my husband passed away in [19]91, we were all living in the same neighborhood, and Jack was divorcing in ’91 too. I think he and Beth [Bridges] separated when they were [inaudible] April, and they got divorced in ’91. My husband died in December of ’91. A year later, Jack and I met, and he was patrolling the neighborhood, but he has a very commanding voice. I had always heard that he was a very good trial lawyer, and he would speak to me with that tone. I would have to remind him that I’m not his client and that we’re not in a courtroom—to tone his voice down.
Thompson
Well, Jack was a fabulous attorney. I always heard it. I was never a client of his, but if anybody was ever going to be in a trial with him, they were scared.
Bridges
I think it was because of his practice with Mac [Cleveland]. They gave him all of the cases that came along, so he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, so he tried them all.
Thompson
Okay, so Mac Cleveland wasn’t a trial lawyer? Did he do more estate work?
Bridges
I don’t know anything about what he did, but I know Jack was a junior attorney at that time, and Mac would let him do a lot. I think that in ’91, they split up the firm. Mac wasn’t practicing that much and Jack was doing a lot of cases ,so he told him he’d like to split it, so that’s why the name of the office used to be, “The Law Office of Jack J. Bridges.” Jack didn’t do too well either. He was on his own with…
Thompson
Oh, a little bit of drinking.
Bridges
But later when he quit that, his business picked up.
Thompson
I didn’t realize that his business went down because of his drinking.
Bridges
Yeah, it was bad. When his business picked up, even the lawyers would call him so he would represent them. He would do it.
Thompson
And then he was city commissioner.
Bridges
Originally, he wanted [inaudible] to run city commissioner and all this is new, because he had two positions before. So he told Jay [Bridges], “You should take this.” He wasn’t too sure if people would accept him. I’ve heard other people ask Jack, “Why didn’t you become a politician?” Jack says he couldn’t have, because people could not accept him, because of what he was.
Thompson
Did he not have confidence?
Bridges
I think his past—it took him a little while before—we got married in ’98, and he ran for city commissioner in 2005, so it took him a couple of years. He wanted to get established and let people know he really meant what he said.
Thompson
I remember that Mayor [Linda] Kuhn just loved him to death and everything he said was golden.
Bridges
Well, he knew—he knows his business and he always looked ahead for the city. Remember the parades every Christmas? They always had parades, but Christmas was the only time that families would join in and throw candy. After I went to one of the parades, he told me to quit giving out candy. and it was because of me that they had to quit giving out candies. Jack was sitting on my right and I was on his left, and when I throw candy it’s kind of hard for me to throw this way, because I’m right-handed. So since he was in my way, some of the candy fell and he was very afraid for the kids. He told the mayor that they couldn’t allow it any longer, because they would sue the city if any kids came by.
Thompson
So he was always looking out. You did a really good thing.
Bridges
No, I was embarrassed. I thought, It was just because of me. I felt bad. Then they had that “splash pad.” Do you remember that they had that “splash pad” when they built that? Everything went well. They had it built and all, and Jack thought about it and says, “Have you ever thought about the lightning that comes with this Florida weather? We have no insurance and if the kids get hurt…” So they had to look into that and I think they got insurance, but then they made sure to close the splash park. when the rain was coming.
Thompson
I know they do that at [Walt] Disney [World] at one of their wave parks. Because I remember being there one day, and they said we had to leave. And we thought it was weird, because it was sunny out, but they said, “No. we have radar and there’s a storm six miles away.” Everybody had to leave. and it was the worst storm in the world when it came.
Bridges
This was just a splash pad, but if lighting comes—so he warned the city. When he sat on the Board, he and Nicky always wanted to move Sanford forward and not backward. Sometimes I can see that he gets very frustrated. They move forward one step and move back two steps. He says he doesn’t enjoy that part.
Thompson
Does he have any stories about his famous cases or when he was a kid?
Bridges
No, he doesn’t share the cases that he tried, because of client-attorney privilege. They’re confidential, so he can’t share.
Thompson
Well, I’m thinking more of personal stories that he might have shared with you of growing up. Anything about his parents or about how Sanford was when he was growing up?
Bridges
I can’t think of too much right now, but he was raised very poor. He said he was very quiet when he learned in school. He always made better grades and the teacher would compare his grades to his brother’s, and his brother didn’t like that. His teacher expected his brother to make grades as good as Jack’s.
Jack was always quiet in school and I think it was because of his background. and I told him that there’s nothing wrong about being raised poor. A lot of the rich people were poor when they were growing up. I say, “At least you’re humble and honest.”
Thompson
Well, tell me stories about you when you were a little girl.
Bridges
Let me finish one part of Jay and Jack working on the Ritz Theatre. He was the usher, and then he became a chief usher. And when he’s home, he can watch movies over and over again and I have seen those movies so many times.
Thompson
He can watch the same movie over and over?
Bridges
That doesn’t bother him. He’ll watch different movies. If it comes on, it doesn’t bother him. He’ll watch it.
Thompson
Probably because he was an usher at the theatre and he watched the same show over and over again [laughs].
Bridges
Then he’d pick up little words from the movie. He’d say, “Buzz off.” Don’t you remember they’d say that in that part of the movie? I couldn’t remember what show it was and say, “Okay.” [laughs].
Thompson
So he would quote movies to you? [laughs].
Bridges
I’m not Americanized. We weren’t raised with televisions, you know? We don’t have American movies. We’ll watch every now and then, but we don’t have that. I don’t understand the humor and all of those things, because I was raised in Singapore. They taught us the King’s English. When we were at home, we spoke Hainanese. It’s one of the dialects. They’re so many—Cantonese, Hakin, Taichu, etc. If they write in Chinese, I can read it and tell you what they’re saying, but…
Thompson
So the written word is the same, but the dialects are all different?
Bridges
When I went to school, we would have to learn English, so we wouldn’t speak English at home. Only in school. We have Indian neighbors now that are Muslims. We don’t understand what they speak at home, but if you speak English, we could all communicate. We also had to learn Mandarin as a language, just like you do Spanish here. In my later years, when my brother went to school, half the subjects were taught in English and the other half were taught in Mandarin. They wanted everybody to be bilingual.
Thompson
So Mandarin was the official language there?
Bridges
It was the official language for all Chinese people.
Thompson
When you were in school and you learned the King’s English, did you have an English professor from England that taught you?
Bridges
No, they were all local, but they went to English schools. We[2] got our independence in ’57. That was the year I was born, so when I went to school in the ‘60s, we were all taught by English teachers.
Thompson
Then you came to the United States?
Bridges
Yes, I married my first husband, and I met him as he was working in an oil field in Indonesia. When he had his break, he came to Singapore. My friend introduced me to him. That was Mr. Green.
Thompson
Oh, so he worked in the oil fields? See, I thought he was agricultural. I don’t know why.
Bridges
He was in charge of all the heavy equipment—the ship, the boats, the crane, the fleets, etc. He was the supervisor and the Indonesians loved him and did the work.
Thompson
What did he do when he came back home?
Bridges
When oil prices went bad in the ‘80s, it was much cheaper for them to hire the English and the Australians than to hire the Americans, so they didn’t want to renew the work permit, so they sent us home. When they hire the Americans over there, they give us vacation time one week every six months. Another six months later, and we have 35 days to come to the states, and they pay for it. Other families that have kids in elementary school—they have their own schools over there. They bring the teachers over there. But when they go to high school. they have to send them to Singapore. If they want to come to college, they come stateside. Then the mother gets to come here twice a year, and the kids fly over there three times a year. All of this is paid for by the company. They pay for the schooling too. They provide housing, cars, gasoline. The house is furnished, etc.
Thompson
Which company was that?
Bridges
Roy M. Huffington, Inc. was the company. Have you heard of The Huffington Post? It was from Houston, Texas.
Thompson
Oh my goodness.
Bridges
Yes, they were big companies.
Thompson
Boy, they sound like they were wonderful to their employees.
Bridges
We didn’t have to pay for the house. We didn’t have to pay for the utilities. If a light bulb needed to be fixed, you would just get on the phone and call them and they’d come and fix the light bulb. The pay was about $65,000 tax-free. That was the incentive. The only thing you have to pay is food and clothes. My husband would tell me, “Enjoy.” I didn’t understand, because we didn’t have a home here, but then we came back and I saw what he was talking about.
We had our own bowling alley and our own swimming pool. We had our own commissary too. We could buy our own food. Every other month, a shipment would come in off the coast of Texas.
Thompson
Now, did he have to go out on oil rigs? Could he come home at night?
Bridges
No, it was close to home. That was the second job. On the first job, he had to go away. On Monday morning, a bus would come and then they’d fly them over on a helicopter. On Friday evening, they’d come into town [laughs].
Thompson
The honeymoon’s every weekend [laughs].
Bridges
Yes, they had to do it that way, because they figured it was cheaper. For a while, they would work two weeks and then they’d have one week off. All the families would stay in Singapore. We were civilized there, but when you moved to Indonesia, you had to stay in the jungle.
Everybody has to get along with everybody, so what the women would do was, they would have cooking class. Have coffee once a month. I would go to Sears[, Roebuck & Company] and buy this sewing stuff and bring it over there. I like the felt stuff. You know how you sew on it? I don’t like the glue stuff. I like the sew-on like stockings and stuff. Some people were good at cross-stitching and needlepoint and they’d teach. That’s how we entertained one another.
We had cooking classes too. Sometimes you get to know your neighbor well. She was from Houston, Texas, and she taught me how to cook American food. She’d write me a recipe and I’d go back and look at the ingredients and call her and ask, “What does half-and-half mean?” [laughs] I would ask her, “What does ‘a stick of butter mean?” That’s because our butter would come in one pound, and she said, “You have to cut it length-wise.” I’d say, “Okay.” That was a big help, because that prepared me for when I came to the states.
A lot of people overseas don’t ever lock their doors. You can knock on the door and come in. The coffee pot’s on, you pour yourself a coffee, and sit down. Over here, I don’t know my neighbor. We feel so lost, but our friends are scattered all over the United States. We would get in a car and go all the way out to Texas, Louisiana, Kansas, etc.
Thompson
To visit all your friends who were in Indonesia with you?
Bridges
Then they’d come and reciprocate, because of Disney World.
Thompson
I bet you had a lot of company with people going to Disney World. It’s wonderful that you made such life-long friends.
Bridges
Even now, I still communicate. There’s this lady in Boise, Idaho. She’s a widow now. She used to do needlepoint and she’d even do weaving. She loved to lace stuff and she would crotchet. She must be up in age too. We write once a year. We send Christmas cards.
Thompson
Well, it almost sounds like the military. My parents were Navy and they made life-long friends with the people in their stations. When they got out of the service, they always kept in contact.
Bridges
I know of a lady from Texas who would babysit her neighbor’s children. When the wife went out of town, she’d take one kid, go out, and get some dental work done, and leave the other kid with her husband. Now, you know men can’t cook. so she would take the kids when they got out of school and she’d feed the husband too. They would do the same, so they were all very close. Once you get to know a few families, they’re all very close.
Thompson
When you came here did you find a family that you could be friends with?
Bridges
No, I don’t know them very well. I kind of miss that.
Thompson
There’s good Oriental contingency in Seminole County, I know. Not very…
Bridges
I don’t practice that anymore. I don’t cook the food anymore. I don’t long for the Chinese food anymore. Not like some Vietnamese that I know like [inaudible] fiancée. They always have to have their rice. They always have their Chinese food. They cannot sub, but I can, because my first husband was American and now I’m with Jack. I say, “If I don’t have bread, I’ll have potato.” [laughs].
I found out that they have their Chinese squash and everything, but the zucchini is almost the same stuff. You can use it to sub for the Chinese squash. But they have to have it exactly the same as before.
Thompson
Isn’t that strange that they can’t adjust?
Bridges
I have a friend in North Carolina and she could adjust. There’s some who can’t and they go back. They say, “America is not for me.” It’s a cultural shock. I couldn’t do that, because I made up my mind, because I married an American. I said, “I married an American. This will be my country and you have to adjust.”
Thompson
And you learned how to make your first Southern food. What did Mr. Green say when you made your first Southern food?
Bridges
He didn’t like my biscuits. He said they were too hard. [laughs] Everything we had to do was from scratch. We didn’t have the stuff that you do. It’s very convenient.
Thompson
Yeah, you can have it frozen. “Oh, you want biscuits? Here’s half a bag.” [laughs].
Bridges
I used to make my own bread and hamburger buns. We used to invite our neighbors and ground beef meat was very expensive. They’d say, “These hamburger buns are so good.” My husband would say, “That’s because they’re homemade.” In Singapore, the bread didn’t last very long, and the flour would have weevils in it, and American women would teach me, “You take it and sift it twice.”
Thompson
To get the weevils out. Why were the weevils—because they’d been in storage?
Bridges
I think that it’s because when they shipped it, they shipped the old stuff to us. By the time it cleared customs, the humidity would get to it. We were so excited to have American stuff. We loved Cheetos in a can [laughs]. We would all grab American stuff. We would grab toilet paper, because we didn’t like the local stuff. It was stiff. It wasn’t soft, so we’d buy a whole bunch. We figured that if we left the country another family would buy us the stuff. When we knew there was a new shipment, we’d run to the coast and load up, because you don’t know when the next shipment would come in.
Thompson
So you were doing “bulk” before Sam’s [Club] ever showed up [laughs].
Bridges
Over there we just buy a bunch of stuff. We buy our meat. We buy the whole piece—the whole pork loin. We would go to the supermarket, buy it, and tell them to freeze it. We’d tell them when we’d want it picked up, so they’d wrap it up and put it into boxes. Then they’d tie it and tape it and all, and we’d pick it up and we’d bring it to the hotel and tell them, “We want it in your freezer.” Then we’d tell them at what time we’d come to get it and our bus would come to pick us up and take us to the airport.
Thompson
To go from Singapore to Indonesia?
Bridges
The flight would last two hours and 20 minutes. Then we’d rest and catch a 45-minute flight. If you pack them well and you only open them once, you should be pretty good. Prime rib was $15 a pound. This was back in the ‘80s.
Thompson
Oh my gosh.
Bridges
We’d usually try to bring a few pieces of meat. We’d live on seafood a lot over there. When you buy fish, you have to buy the whole fish—head and all—and the fish 50 cents a kilo.
Thompson
A fish for 50 cents? Amazing.
Bridges
Usually the fish is about two to three pounds, but it was fresh. We’d also have a lot of shrimp and lobster too.
Thompson
I bet you know a lot of great recipes for shrimp, lobster, and fish, don’t you?
Bridges
No, I didn’t have to cook very much over there. I buttered them a lot and broiled them. Seafood was abundant. [inaudible] I would go to the local market. They would always have some trouble with us, because they don’t encourage you to go outside the city.
Thompson
Was it dangerous?
Bridges
It wasn’t dangerous, but if an American like you—a Caucasian—goes there, you’ll be surrounded and you’d be shot. They don’t like Americans. For me, I’m Asian with an Asian [inaudible], so it’s a little bit better. I learned that when you carry your basket to town, you just let the boys carry it so they don’t bug you. You pay them 100 rupees. That’s 10 cents and they walk with you while you buy your groceries and they put it in a cart for you.
Thompson
So if one of the boys that you see on the street comes, he attaches himself to you and then none of the boys bother you? That happened to us in the Dominican Republic. A boy attached himself to my mother and he went everywhere with us throughout the whole day.
Bridges
This was only in the market though. That way you get rid of them, because they all want to help you, and you end up paying extra money. I also found out that we’d pay the lawn boy $5 a month and we’d pay the maid $15. $15 is the maximum, and they say $10 is the going rate. One of our doctors from Texas would pay $15 and the maid would carry laundry from the city every day. After they worked for the Americans, they’d go work for the nationals expecting to get paid $15 a month, but the nationals would only pay them $10 maximum. They’d say, “That’s not fair.” They’d tell us we couldn’t spoil them.
Thompson
You see? We’d look at that as entrepreneurship. If you do the best, you get paid more.
Bridges
Right. They also liked blue jeans, so what we’d do is come to the states and buy blue jeans and give it to them as a Christmas gift. That’s why they like working for the Americans.
Thompson
Well, your husband was very right when he said, “Enjoy it.” [laughs].
Bridges
Well, I didn’t understand, but now I do.
Thompson
What was your first shocking experience when you came to the [United] States? Did you come in through Texas?
Bridges
No, we came in through Maryland. Yes, because his Army friends stayed at Fort [George G.] Meade, so we’d stay with our friends. The men would go somewhere else and the women—was very nice. She took me to the commissary. I said, “I want to go to the commissary.” I walked in and I said, “Oh, look at the eggplant. It’s so nice. Look at the lettuce.” Because our lettuce is terrible-looking, but we still ate it, because that’s the best they had to offer. She just looked at me. [laughs] I said, “I want to buy this. I want to eat this.” Of course, we had more money than they did, so we paid for the groceries, but she let me pick what I wanted. The green peas were so green and narrow, but over there they were kind of bulky.
Thompson
So the first big shock was the groceries? I bet the food was a lot cheaper too, wasn’t it?
Bridges
Yes, because any canned food that came over into Indonesia were three times more expensive than here.
Thompson
Did you ever go back?
Bridges
I went back to Singapore, but not to Indonesia. It’s not the same for me anymore. I guess I’ve been gone too long. The heat and the humidity is like Florida weather in the summer. I can’t take it. [laughs] Jack always wanted to go there, but he never made it. I went back in 2004, when my brother had just died of lung cancer. And Jack wanted to go but he couldn’t. so I said, “I’ll go.” Do you remember the bird flu[3] that went around? They said that if I came back, I’d have to be in quarantine for 10 days. Jack was a little sick at that time. I think I wanted to go in November, but I went in the spring.
Jack said he always admired the Chinese culture. He handled one or two cases and he said he had yet to see a broke Chinese person. I was raised Chinese. During the New Year, you have to pay off all your debts. We didn’t owe anything. Jack said, “What about your mortgages?” I said, “Well, I guess that’s one thing that you can’t pay off, but everything else has to be paid off.” Another thing is that you never lend to friends or family, because you’ll never get it back. That’s very, very true. Jack would say that the Chinese and Egyptian cultures are very, very old but he likes them more.
Thompson
It’s also a very good practice. You’re not in debt. So many Americans are in debt.
Bridges
Yeah, but when I was talking to Jack’s mother—she’s old school. It parallels what the Chinese do.
Thompson
Yeah, not to be in debt, because she lived in the [Great] Depression. She’s of that generation.
Bridges
Yes, and she’s very frugal just the way I was raised.
Thompson
What did your parents do?
Bridges
My mother was a homemaker and my father was the chief electrician, so he was gone a lot. My mother raised us, and when my father came back, we would like it, because he would spoil us. He let us go to school early, and my mother didn’t like that. We started school at 7:30 and were off at 1:00. The next year, you go from 1:00-5:00. That way they use the school, so the school isn’t sitting there empty.
Thompson
Did they always have a group in there?
Bridges
Yes, all the time. They alternated it so one year a student goes in the morning and the next year he goes in the afternoon.
ThompsoAnd then it’s hotter. It’s cool in the morning and hot in the afternoon.
Bridges
Yeah [laughs]. That way the school is used many times, so that they don’t have to build that many schools. Property is very expensive in Singapore. It’s like Hong Kong. Everybody lives in patmas. They call it “flats.” The government will build them and let you buy them. and you could use your Social Security number to buy them.
Thompson
So they’re like condos, and they’re subsidized by the government. And anybody can buy one?
Bridges
Not everybody. They have three or four bedrooms, so it depends on your family’s size. The government will tell you if you’re eligible.
Thompson
So you can’t just have four bedrooms for two of you [laughs].
Bridges
And you can tell them what location you want. Not a problem. If they build, you put your name in and they were very cheap. I remember my mom got a three bedroom for 15,000 in the ‘70s.
Thompson
Wow. That was a wonderful deal. Even back then.
Bridges
The dollar was like two to one. That’s cheap. Now, you can’t buy a patma for that cheap, but it’s subsidized by the government, and the government wants everybody to live better in wooden homes, because they take up a lot of land. They don’t want that. The island isn’t that big. It’s 25 miles across from east to west and 15 miles from north to south, and it’s got a population of two million people. It’s the cleanest city in the world.
Bridges
The crime rate is very low. They will not tolerate drugs. It’s a law and order country. Do you remember that Michael Fay went down there and got caned? He got caned, because he took the stop sign down, and his family got sent home.
Thompson
Yeah, I had heard that about Singapore. That was an international incident.
Bridges
[Bill] Clinton, the American president, pleaded and the government said, “This is a law and order country.”
Thompson
And there are no exceptions.
Bridges
This lady brought drugs in. I don’t know if she’s Australian or what, but they asked the Queen of England[4] to plead and they said, “No.”
Thompson
The Queen couldn’t help. Well, just think—if it’s 25 miles long and 15 miles wide, it’s the same size as Sanford’s 22 mile square. so your whole island is probably the size of Sanford. It has two million people there and we only have 54,000. People don’t understand how lucky they are to live in a place like Sanford.
Bridges
Right, because over there it’s very competitive. You have to do well in school. If you don’t do well in school, you get a terrible job. My mother always said, “You see that road-sweeper? That man that sweeps the street? That’s where you’re going to end up. Digging the ditch.” [laughs] Then when they came up with that machine that cleans the street and she said, “See? They don’t even need you anymore.” [laughs] She pushed education, because both my parents were raised on a farm on Hainan Island in China. Do you remember where our plane landed in China? It got confiscated by the Chinese government.
Thompson
No, I don’t remember that.
Bridges
An American plane landed there and they wouldn’t let us take our plane home. They had to go through and check, because they wanted to check out what the Americans had in equipment and technology.
Thompson
So it was probably a military jet that crash-landed there or something?
Bridges
I don’t know how it landed there, but I know it landed there. The Chinese government got involved and I remember saying, “It’s Hainan Island. That’s where my mom and dad were born.” My mother said that the communist government would give you two pieces of material and that’s all you get. She patched them and they would look like embroideries, and she was very frugal raising us.
Thompson
So it was two pieces of material per person in the family or just two pieces?
Bridges
It was two pieces a year. That’s all you get. We always had hand-me-down clothes because my aunt was from American Families, and the kids had all the clothing, and we got to pick what we wanted to wear. so if I said, “I don’t like this dress,” she wouldn’t throw it away. She would pack it up and send it to China. It was for her nieces, you know?
Thompson
Yeah, so whatever you didn’t like went on to another family.
Bridges
Right. She wouldn’t give it to the neighbors or friends they could use it. She would send it to her family. My mother—she didn’t work, because she raised us. but she knew that education was very important. When we’d come home, we’d speak the dialect. We didn’t speak English. And we’d bring our report cards and she’d say, “What does it say? And “You’d better tell me the truth, and if it’s not what it says here, you’re in trouble.” [laughs]
Thompson
So she taught you how to be honest.
Bridges
She didn’t mind us going to school, because that was the only way we were going to do better than her, and many Asian communities are the same way. A lot of my cousins are in Virginia. My aunt does not speak English and my cousins speak broken English, but their children are very educated. They’re honor students. They’re doing real well and they’re taking care of their mom and dad.
Thompson
Well now, did you ever have children?
Bridges
No.
Thompson
So you have step-children from…
Bridges
My first and second husbands.
Thompson
Oh, both. That’s wonderful. Do you see them?
Bridges
Originally, [inaudible] lives in Orlando and the other two live in Pennsylvania, but now they’re back in Florida. They love the Florida weather. We brought them to Florida. We took them to Disney World. they always have a place to stay, and they loved it so much. They got tired of the snow.
Thompson
Who wouldn’t be? I like Florida too. My sisters wanted me to move to Tennessee, and I said, “You know, I like Florida. I love you, but I don’t love your weather.” [laughs] She said, “But you have hurricanes.” I said, “But I don’t have snow.”
Bridges
Well, Jack’s son was born and raised here. Jack only had one child.
Thompson
Oh, is that right? Is it John?
Bridges
No, Tory [Bridges] is his child. Tory’s mother, Mary Carly, is in the insurance business on Lake Mary Boulevard when you pass—that’s Jack’s first wife.
Thompson
Oh, Debbie or something?
Bridges
She married Brent Carly. He owns the insurance business on Lake Mary Boulevard.
Thompson
I know Mark Carly. He’s Brent’s brother. I know him better than I know Brent. I believe it was you, Jack, and Jack’s brother that made it out to the restaurant one time and I was able to meet her once.
Bridges
Yeah, she’s in assisted living now—Spring Lake Hills on Lake Mary Boulevard, across from the forest. She has a bad case of dementia and she gets very excited. She can’t sit down for too long. I think that’s part of the disease. When I went to see her right after Jack died, she kept asking me where Jack was and we told her. And her cousin, Linda, told me that when she went to Jack’s service, she thought she was at her husband’s funeral.
Thompson
Oh, so her dementia was really bad.
Bridges
When I see her she asks me how Jack is and I hate repeating it to her, because it hurts me to tell her to tell her that Jack’s gone, because I’m grieving and it’s hard for me, so I say, “He’s okay.” Then later she says, “Oh, he’s gone isn’t he?” I go, “Yeah. he’s gone.”
Thompson
So sometimes she will remember that he did die.
Bridges
Now instead of saying that Jack is coming to take her home, she says that her mother is coming to take her home. They go back. They revert to their childhood. She doesn’t remember her other son, Stevie [Bridges]. Stevie does not come around too often.
Thompson
Well that’s the one everybody compared to Jack, so he didn’t feel too good about it.
Bridges
Yeah, but they always favored Stevie a lot. Stevie stayed at the house with them, but he later moved out. Maybe they catered to him, because Jack was a family man. They figured he was married and Stevie never got married, so they took care of him more. I don’t know.
Thompson
What kind of work does Stevie do?
Bridges
Well, he went to college and got his degree from University of Florida. I don’t know what he majored in, but he decided he didn’t want to use what he learned in school, so he worked for a welding company and became the chief welder.
Thompson
Yeah, because I remember seeing him in work clothes, like a working person—blue collar.
Bridges
Right. They told him they would give him a desk job, but he said no. He preferred to be blue-collar. That’s what he wanted. Then they let him go and he was applying for other jobs. I don’t know. It didn’t work out.
Thompson
So he’s not working at all now?
Bridges
He turns 60 in February and he said he’s going to wait and draw retirement and Social Security [Insurance].
Thompson
Well, he’s got two years until he can do it.
Bridges
He has a big payout and Jack was trying to tell him how to invest. and I told Jack, “If he was smart enough, he would have gone back to work and worked ‘til he was 65, and let that money build and draw better Social Security.” That’s what I’m doing.
Thompson
Well, I worked ‘til 62, but my husband was very ill. So I just went in and said, “I’m closing the restaurant.”
Bridges
I don’t blame you. You had your hands full. That’s different. Being a caregiver takes all your energy.
Thompson
It does. I had two years with him. We were very lucky. On July of 2008, I walked in the door and said, “We’ve got parties that we’re doing on the 4th of July and we should be out of food by next Wednesday.” I said, “We’re closing the doors of The Rib Ranch forever on the 8th and 9th of July.” I put a big sign up saying, “Come and say goodbye.” Everybody came and got barbecue, but on July 2nd, the guy who owned the business right next door to me made me an offer for my property, and I took it and we had our closing 15 days later. I had two years completely free to be with my husband, because he couldn’t drive anymore. He was going blind. He had a lot of physical problems. I spent a lot of time going to doctor’s offices.
Bridges
It’s like what Jack said towards the end. his social calendar towards the end was all doctor’s appointments. Jack got sick in 2009. He was in this hospital and then they told him they had to send him up to Shands[?][5], because he had abdominal blockage. They said, “You need surgery. There’s a tumor right there. That’s why it’s doing that. Shands might be able to get you in.” The doctor that tried to get him in just got back from church and he said, “There’s a bed available.” So he was happy, and I packed four days’ clothes. stayed there three and a half weeks. He wouldn’t let me come home. He said, “Don’t leave me.” He was very lonesome.
Thompson
He needed you.
Bridges
I had a lot of vacation time, so I called Penny Fleming and she said, “Take it.” I was planning on coming home and working Monday through Friday and then go up on weekends, and she said, “Well, whatever you want.” Then I decided, “Well, maybe half a day on Friday.” She says, “That will be better and you won’t have to drive during the night.” Then I told Jack what she said and Jack said, “No.”
Thompson
He needed you there.
Bridges
He wanted me there.
Thompson
Well, the thing I found out about, when your husband’s sick, is that even though I depended on him being smart and understanding everything. He was being stoic, but he wasn’t comprehending what the doctors were saying, because, internally, he was panicked. He would say, “What did he mean by that?” I would have to research it and find out what the doctor meant, because he wouldn’t tell him he was scared.
Bridges
Jack was the opposite. Jack was very sharp and he still had a sense of humor. I remember they almost put him on a ventilator one time up in Shands. Scared me to death. Jack didn’t like too much medication, but they gave him medication and he crawled to bed. And when he came in, there was this person sitting in his room and he woke up and said, “Oh, have you met my warden?”
Thompson
Who was the person sitting in his room?
Bridges
It was the nurse. And they had to explain that he was trying to climb over the bed. When he was up there, he would tell me to do things he wasn’t supposed to do. He wanted a Slurpee and he said, “Go get me one.” and I’d say, “The doctor says you can’t have anything.” He’d say, “If you don’t get it for me, then I’ll go down to get it.” I said, “Then what do you want?” He said, “Strawberry.”
At that time, he had that abdominal problem and they had to pump it out. There was a little container behind him and the doctor could see the red from the strawberry and he panicked, “Oh, it’s blood.” Jack said, “No. I just had strawberries.” [laughs] The doctor shook his head. Jack said, “My mouth is very dry, so I asked her to get me that.” The doctor said, “How about changing the flavor?” Oh, he was something else.
Thompson
So what’s happening with you now?
Bridges
I’m just back to work. I’m just doing my routine and putting in my time working at the Sheriff’s Office until my retirement. I’ve got 10 years to go. I’ve already got 14 years. I hate to retire so early, because what am I going to do for health insurance? If I retire right now, I’ve got eight years. 62 is early retirement. They penalize me five percent for every year under. I figure I don’t have much going right now, so I just try to keep myself occupied.
Thompson
I think that’s a good thing too. If I didn’t have all this, I’d be going crazy.
Bridges
But I sure miss him though, because every time I go to the parades, I see all the people and politicians and it kind of depresses me a little bit.
Thompson
Well, what do you think he would have said about everything that happened with Trayvon [Benjamin Martin] and the city?
Bridges
I don’t think he would have let the case go as far as it did, because he would know how to tell them. Who is it [inaudible]? He said he didn’t know the legal procedures or the steps to take. He said it wasn’t right that [Bill] Lee didn’t arrest [George Michael] Zimmerman. but if you can’t prove anything yet, how can you arrest somebody? There’s no evidence.
Thompson
I thought it was really strange that people don’t understand that the police investigate, but it’s the state attorneys that say they have a case and have them arrested. My illustration was, “Haven’t you seen Law & Order?” Half the show is about what the police do and the other half is about what the attorneys do.
Bridges
Well, I think that on the legal side, you have to have evidence to show before you can convict and arrest a person, but there’s nothing to prove him guilty. People were so upset. They wanted them to do it now and it got worse and worse. When it came to the commissioner, people were saying Commissioner Lee wasn’t doing his job.
Thompson
And none of those commissioners…
Bridges
They don’t understand the legal system.
Thompson
It would have been good if Jack were still there.
Bridges
Linda would have been good too, because she worked at the state attorney’s office. It would have helped the city.
Thompson
Maybe if we had had a better city attorney. I mean, I don’t know Lonnie Grout, but maybe a stronger criminal lawyer mind would have helped. Who knows? Jack is really missed.
Bridges
Yeah, I feel like he served. The Lord wanted him home, and I feel like Jack knew he was sick but he did not tell me. He knew what was going on. He was talking to Dr. [inaudible] about it. Remember when they put the shunt in? He [inaudible]. I think when they pull it out too fast it can create a clog. That’s what my friends told me. Linda [inaudible] said that was a clog when she saw his hand, and she was right. His hand just got bigger and bigger like my thigh. I asked the nurse, “What happened?” She said, “Oh, nothing wrong. We’re just trying to stabilize.” When Dr. [inaudible] was talking to him, I came in at the tail end of the conversation. Dr. [inaudible] said, “If we have to, we’ll remove it.” I found out after he died by talking to Dr. [inaudible] that he knew he was going, but he didn’t tell me.
Thompson
I don’t think my husband knew he was going.
Bridges
He didn’t want me to be upset, and I feel that it’s not fair. At least he could have prepared me, because he went in on a Friday, assigned Saturdays all over the weekend. I had to bring him his Jell-O mixed with fruit. He didn’t want the hospital Jell-O. He wanted iced tea mixed at home. He wanted chicken noodle soup. He didn’t want the can one, so I’d bring the hot broth to the hospital for him to eat. I saw him Saturday, Sunday, and I called Jack’s son about Friday or Saturday to let him know, because we’re working people. We’re always so busy. Maybe we would have more time on weekends. He could have come to see his father, but he didn’t come to see his father until Monday. Jack’s secretary was there on Monday too, and she said, “What is Tory doing here?” I said, “I told him he could come see his father, but I didn’t tell Cathy that she could come.”
During one of our meetings in the room, the doctor came in and he was a very good cardiologist and I liked the doctor very much. And she started asking him questions and the doctor felt—I could see the look on his face. he didn’t want to be interrupted, and he looked at Jack and me. He knew who I was, but I didn’t introduce myself. He didn’t like it. I said, “Next time, I won’t let her come to the hospital to see him, because what if the doctor has to come in and she interrupts everything?” That time she called me from outside the hospital and says, “Can I come inside?” What can I say? She’s already at the hospital, so I told her to come up. After everybody had seen him, he said he’s tired and that everybody has to go.
Thompson
This was Monday?
Bridges
No, it was Monday night. I said, Okay. I guess he wants me to go home too so he can rest. Everybody left and I was packing my stuff and he said, “No. you stay a little bit.” I stayed and he said, “Give me a hug.” He wanted me to kiss him. I think he knew. He must have known it was getting close. so on Tuesday I worked half a day. I was going to do a whole week. On Tuesday, I got a message from the doctor saying, “Come right away.” I dropped everything.
Thompson
So you had just gotten home and then you had to go back and he had died?
Bridges
No, I was heading towards the hospital to bring his stuff, but when I got the message I just went straight and left everything. He said, “Come right away,” but he was already gone by the time I got there.
Thompson
Well, you can be angry with him, but…
Bridges
But we had a good life. It was a short time with him, and Jack and I had an age difference of 11 years. We both had November birthdays, and we’re 11 days apart. When he died we were married 11 years and 11 months.
Thompson
Oh, 11 is a really important number then.
Bridges
When he started having the cancer in December, he said that he would like another 10 years, but if God would give him five he would take it.
In December, he showed me he wanted to go to church. I’m a converted Catholic. Every now and then he’d go to the church. He got very bored. I was surprised he went, and that was the last Christmas.
Thompson
Well, it’s tough when we lose them like that.
Bridges
Jack changed his whole life around from what he was. He went to the opposite end of the spectrum.
Thompson
He really did, because he was a rounder. He was a party guy, wasn’t he?
Bridges
He was. I remember when he told me, “When we get married, I like to go out with my boys once a month.” But he never did it after we married. I let him run as far as he wanted to, but he never did. He always wanted to come home. He knew he had a home to come to. I think that when he was struggling with his alcohol, there was no one to communicate with him emotionally. With my military upbringing, he learned how to be soft to people and love them. I think he felt most sturdy and he said I was his rock.
Thompson
You were the stability that he needed.
Bridges
He turned his life around after that. He learned how to give and found that it was very rewarding and he turned into a public servant. He got what he wanted. He had the intelligence to go along with serving the city. I’m very happy for him. I hated seeing him go, but he achieved what he wanted to do in life.
Thompson
I think that’s great. I had a different situation with my husband. I’m so happy that he’s gone, because I loved him so. He was a sports lover and he loved Sports Illustrated magazine. He had to read about his sports. He told me on Wednesday, and he died on a Saturday, “Cancel my subscription to Sports Illustrated.” That just floored me. I think now that he passed away, that if he had lived the two years they said he would, he would have been blind. He was in renal failure, so if he lived through that, he would have been on dialysis. He had diabetes and he was losing his legs, so this is not the life he would have wanted. This wouldn’t be living. This would be torture. He wasn’t a man who had the will to live through anything. He had his comforts. I’m so glad he was able to go the way he wanted to go, before these awful things came. He was a very proud man and very private. He hated having nurses having to help him go to the bathroom or go take a shower. It got to me that he had to go through that.
Bridges
The last two years of Jack’s life, he was sick and he knew it, and he cried. He said he didn’t deserve it. He was throwing up and there was nothing but liquid coming up all the time. I had to empty his can, because I didn’t want him to smell that all the time. He was already sick. I made sure everything was close by and the less he moved, the better he felt. I’d get his medication, Sports Illustrated magazine—whatever he needed. He said he didn’t like being sick like that. He would say to me, “You’re too good for me.” and he’d cry.
It got me emotionally, and when I’d get to the kitchen, I’d cry. I’d almost be in tears, but I wouldn’t look at him. He’d ask, “Are you alright?” I’d say, “I am.” Then I’d go to the kitchen and cry, because I didn’t want to show him I was weak. But he was ready to go.
Thompson
Mine was too. At the time I was mad at him for leaving me, but I got over it. Now I’m just grateful that I had him for as long as I did and that he’s not suffering.
Bridges
My first husband went very fast. He was up and walking and he fell. One of his blood vessels burst. They called it a “pontine hemorrhage,” because of the pons. It’s like an aneurysm. I was kind of mad, but they say—I was shocked. I didn’t know he was going to go. There was no goodbye or anything. Then God was graceful enough to put God in my life. I had only been in this country for six years—’85-‘91. I didn’t know my way around. I had to learn how to drive when I got here. And my sister and brother-in-law were very good to me and helped me with the funeral arrangements. Then Jack came into my life and I said, “Oh God. At least you could have prepared me.” I didn’t know he was going to get sick. It takes a lot to be a caregiver. You’re not prepared, but that’s life. Jack went so fast, no one expected it. We thought he was doing so well when he came from Gainesville, and they detected cancer and he went for his radiation [therapy] and chemo[therapy]…
Thompson
How long had he been back from Gainesville?
Bridges
He had surgery in August.
Thompson
Yeah, but when did he come home? Because when he came home, we had an appointment and I think he died the next week.
Bridges
He died in March.
Thompson
So he wasn’t in the hospital in the spring?
Bridges
Yeah, he was in the hospital. He went in on Friday afternoon and he died Tuesday afternoon.
Thompson
I’m thinking of a month before that.
Bridges
He had been in and out of the hospital then. They had to put him in hydration, because of his radiation and chemo. They said he got very dehydrated and he had been in and out several times.
Thompson
Well, I talked to him on the phone and he was either in the hospital—it might’ve just been the day before he died. I can’t imagine that though. But I talked to him. maybe a week was either right before he went into the hospital or the day before he died. Because I was completely shocked.
Bridges
I didn’t expect him to go into the hospital. Maybe you talked to him that Monday and he was fine, but then the next couple of days, his arm just got worse. By the end of the week, I figured he better go to the hospital, because doctors are not around on weekends, so I needed to admit him. I couldn’t get a hold of his doctor so that’s why he went in on a Friday.
Motta
This is Daniel Motta.I am interviewing Mr. Bob Hattaway at his business, Adult Toy Storage, in Altamonte Springs.To start, Mr. Hattaway, could you tell me where you were born?
Hattaway
I was born in the city of Altamonte Springs in 1936, which today, the location is on Lake Orienta, which at one time was called Orienta Ferneries, later in years.And the Hattaway family lived on that property for a number of years, probably 30 years, or something.
Motta
So you were born on the property?
Hattaway
I was born on the property, yeah.At that time, when I was born, 1936, a lot of people did not go to hospitals.They couldn’t afford it.So I was born at home.
Motta
And could you tell me a little about the neighborhood, the house, property?
Hattaway
The property, basically—it was 150 acres of property.Thirty acres of the property was into a fernery slat shed growing tropical foliage and plants, mostly asparagus plumosus fern, and then another fern called leatherleaf fern, which came on in a later date, which became very popular in the flower industry.But we were growing plants and flowers and a lot of different products back at that time, to sell.So it was a very rural area.Altamonte Springs had one road leading in and one road leading out, and it was Highway 436 [Florida State Road 436].If you wanted to go shopping, you would get on 436 and travel [US Route] 17-92 to Downtown Orlando, because there were no stores in Altamonte Springs, or Casselberry.You had to go to Orlando to shop.
Motta
And I imagine 436 looked a lot different then.
Hattaway
Yeah, 436 was probably a two-lane road, and going through the middle of Altamonte Springs was a four-lane road divided in the middle by two very large rows of oak trees, from about where the Altamonte Mall is today, all the way to the railroad track in Altamonte Springs.That’s going from west to the east.
Motta
Were any of these paved roads?
Hattaway
It was paved, yeah.Sometimes.But Maitland Avenue also was there, which was a two-lane road itself.But very rural.I mean, there was really nothing out here.
Motta
And you said, on the property, only part of it was ferns?
Hattaway
Yeah.Of the hundred acres, a lot of it, 30-something acres of it was slat shed fern itself, and the other was open fields, and we were growing plumosus or podocarpus, and were using that.We’d grow the podocarpus and cut that as cuttings and ship that to the northern market, to flower shops as well.So, and everything at that time, back when the fern business back in the [19]50s, and [19]60s, most of the freight was moved by rail, and not by truck.So there was a big depot in Altamonte Springs, and the depot itself, the major portion of it, was people like us—Hattaways, Casselberrys, Vaughns, etc.—shipping boxes and boxes and boxes of cut fern to the northern market, to flower shops.
Motta
And that would all take place here, or would it go to Sanford first, and go from there?
Hattaway
No.
Motta
Just directly?
Hattaway
There was a direct stop in Altamonte Springs and a direct stop in Casselberry, and also a direct stop in Longwood and Maitland.So they were little whistle stops, but most of the time they were stopping to pick up a product, like the fern product, and then some passengers.But there were no 7-Elevens, and there was absolutely nothing out here at that particular point in time.Not any tourists as well.
Motta
About how many families lived in this area, you think?
Hattaway
Well, you know, on the Orienta Fernery side, which was known as the Royal Ferneries at one time, there were probably—it was a housing development there, row houses for the migrant workers, or the workers, to live on the premise and work there, and [inaudible] 40-something houses with a church, [inaudible] on Hattaway Drive today, this long, long, long, then gone?.But they provided housing for people, and they were not great to live in and to be able to work.
Motta
And did your father build the houses and the church?
Hattaway
No, those were built back in the—golly.My father went in, they bought from Hibbard Casselberry, 1951.They bought what at that time they called the Royal Ferneries, and they bought that from Hibbard, and Hibbard bought it, I think, in 1946—‘45.And then my father worked for Mr. Casselberry, and my grandfather worked for Mr. Casselberry, and my two uncles, also, worked for Mr. Casselberry. All of them in stooped labor, cutting ferns by hand and taking it to the packinghouses, and then being able to ship the product to the northern market.And there were no Kmarts, and there were no big Walmarts, and those kind of things.Flower shops were flourishing.That was the mainstay of the fern business at that time, corsages and bouquets and things of that nature.
Motta
So what year did you say your father procured the property?
Hattaway
He bought the property from Hibbard in 1951.
Motta
Okay. So, when you were born, he was working in the industry?He just didn’t…
Hattaway
He was working with Mr. Casselberry.Yeah.
Motta
Okay. And what were your experiences like as a child? Did you also have any contact with—did you work in fields at all?
Hattaway
Yes, yes.Oh, yeah[laughs]. Those were wonderful moments.[laughs]
Motta
Could you tell me a little about them?
Hattaway
Out there with stooped labor, working in the—I would work in the summer months when I was out of school, high school and grammar school.I would pull weeds in the fernery.And they would hire a lot of young people like myself at that time—ten, twelve years old.And our job was—the fernery was full of weeds of various kinds, and so we’d line up ten, fifteen, or twenty of us in rows.We’d go down through and pull the weeds out of each row.That was a terrible job.I knew when that was happening I didn’t want to stay in the nursery business, or fern business.I darn sure didn’t want to be a stooped laborer in the field.But that’s where my family came from.I mean, they worked for every Casselberry.And Hibbard brought my grandfather and my father both out of the fernery, out of the field, and put my grandfather in charge of the fernery over[?]—which was the Royal Fernery at that time, Casselberry Ferneries as well—and put my grandfather in charge of that side of the fernery, and then my father went over to the main plant over in the middle of Casselberry, and he became the main foreman over there, in an office, working for Mr. Casselberry.And so Mr. Casselberry brought him out of the field, very little education, and put him in charge of a number of people.At that time, you know, back in the ‘40s and ‘50s, the fern business, it was a big business, and they were employing probably two, three hundred people.So it was a lot of people depending on the Casselberrys and the Foleys[?] in the fern business at that time as well.
Motta
So when you were in the fields doing that work that you loved so much, were you paid for that, or was that just something expected of you?
Hattaway
Oh, yeah.Yeah, we got paid for it.
Motta
Do you remember…
Hattaway
Twenty-five cent an hour.And I was, you know—I’ve always loved to work.That’s been my mainstay, and I’ve got great work habits.And I think most people back then did.I’m not sure what they have today.I know it’s not as good as it was back then.But Mr. Casselberry provided a lot of employment for young people when school was out, that they could work during the summer.And pulling those weeds was part of what you did.And I would get out, and we’d help with the repair of the slat sheds, repairing the irrigation systems, just to keep the fernery back in good repair, so we could grow the fern itself.But it’s hard work.
Motta
I’d imagine.
Hattaway
But, you know, I did that every summer.When I got out of school, the following week I’d be working in the field.
Motta
Could you tell me a little about where you went to school?Did you—high school, or did you go to college after?
Hattaway
Sure.I went to Lyman High School, grades one through twelve.I went to Winter Park High School the 10th grade to the 11th grade, and then came back to Lyman for the 12th grade itself.So I was actually grade one through ten at Lyman High School, the old school.
Motta
It wasn’t called Lyman High School then?
Hattaway
It was called Lyman High School, yeah.
Motta
But it was one through twelve?
Hattaway One through twelve, yeah.There were, when I graduated, in 1954—’55 there were twelve boys and one girl in my class.Thirteen class.And the class behind us, I think, had 25.So it was a very small school back then, and grade one was, you know—all the way through.And I think they stopped that just before—no, it was still going on in 1955.It was still grade one through twelve, I think, at that time.But Lyman today is probably graduating one thousand kids at one whack.And you got Oviedo, and etc., etc.Great changes, but, you know, we had small classes.Probably the max in a class was 20, 25.Teachers were very personal.Teachers knew us all, and it turned out, had a good education.When I graduated from Lyman, I think there was only two people in our class went to college, and the rest of us went into the work field.And I immediately, when I graduated, I started buying real estate, starting my own fernery.
Motta
Graduated from high school?
Hattaway
Yeah, high school.I didn’t go to college. Didn’t go to college.And I was working—I got a job in Winter Garden with Continental Can Company, and they were making small cans to put orange juice into, frozen orange juice, and that was a—you’d put three cups of water with it…
Motta
The concentrate?
Hattaway
Concentrate, and do all those.I worked there at night, the night shift from 3:30 ‘til 12:00 or something of that nature.And then during the day, I bought a piece of property in Oviedo on Chapman Avenue[sic], and built my first nursery under oak trees.And I started my own business back in 1956—I guess ’57, ’58, something like that.
Motta
Where did you say the canning company was?
Hattaway
Continental Can Company.
Motta
Where was that?
Hattaway
In Winter Garden.
Motta
Oh, okay.So those…
Hattaway
It was a big canning company.
Motta
Pretty far from each other, the two?
Hattaway
I’m sorry?
Motta
The two jobs you had were pretty far from each other.
Hattaway
Yeah.Yeah.One was working in the can company, the other was working in the field, in a nursery.And started my own place.I bought an oak tree hammock.And we’d found by that time, in the nursery business, in the fern business, that slat sheds were very expensive, and you couldn’t keep them up because of cost, wood rot, and it became—they were falling down.So, we started…
Motta
How often do you have to replace those?
Hattaway
Oh, you were constantly working on the building, on the fields themselves, and you’re talking about 30 acres of slat shed.Just slats are, you know, four inches wide.And sometimes they would kind of fall down.If you’re tall like I am, you’d run into a slat and hit your head and etc.So we went from the slat sheds into buying oak tree hammocks, and putting fern under the oak tree hammocks.And we also started planting in the ferneries—the old ferneries, oak trees inside of the fernery itself—to grow up through the slat sheds for shade.You were looking for a certain amount of shade.And so we started that, and that’s where the slat sheds kind of disappeared, and everybody, especially Mr. Casselberry, his whole side was nothing but oak trees.
Motta
Oh, really?
Hattaway
The side we had, and my father and grandfather had, over on Orienta Fernery side, they planted orange trees, which was a really, really smart move, because they always had orange trees—they also had the product of fern under that.The problem was, when they planted the orange trees, they budded the orange tree to Valencia, navels, or whatever it’s going to be.When they sprayed the orange tree spray on the fern, to kill worms, etc., it killed the buds on all the orange trees.Ended up with 25 acres of sour orange trees, and there’s not a lot of market for sour orange trees.So it was just a good concept, but it didn’t work.
Motta
So, by that time, there was pretty much the natural solution of replacing the slats with the trees?Like, is that what all the fern owners pretty much moved to?
Hattaway
Yeah.Yeah.Everybody was doing that.Everybody was doing that.
Motta
Okay.
Hattaway
Fern business was big not only here in Central Florida, in the Orlando area, Altamonte Springs, Casselberry, Fern Park, but it was big up in Crescent City and Pierson, which it still is today.
Motta
Yeah.
Hattaway
It’s the mainstay up there as well.
Motta
Was there any kind of rivalry between, like, here and Volusia County?
Hattaway
Oh, yeah.Oh my god.Yeah.Yeah.They would—and I’ve heard my father talk about the stories that the price of the ferns had become very cheap—and so the industry got together and met someplace up in DeLand or something, some little community, with the main growers all meeting at one concept.
Woman
Excuse me, do you need anything before I go to lunch?
Hattaway
No, I’m good.
Unidentified
Okay.
Hattaway
I’m good.They all went back to discuss the pricing, and I guess they were trying to do what you’d call the price fixing.But the typical agriculture business, they all got together, they all decided, shook hands, and this is what we’re gonna charge to the fern.All of them couldn’t wait to run back to the phone and call their customers in Chicago[, Illinois] or New York or where it is, and say, “Hattaway’s going up on the price of his fern by three cent.I’m gonna stay the same price” or “I’m gonna drop the price.”It never worked.And so they cut their throat time and time again.But there was great rivalry, especially, that I’m familiar with, between the Barnetts, the Casselberrys, the Vaughns.And there was a rivalry there because Mr. Casselberry started the tax-free town of Casselberry, and the Barnetts were a big, very wealthy family, had a lot of ferneries in the Fern Park, Casselberry area, and they didn’t like Mr. Casselberry, because he was so aggressive, and he was a new guy in town.And they got into a hell of a rivalry.So it was always a shootout.
Motta
And the Vaughns, you said?
Hattaway
Vaughns.
Motta
They were also in Seminole County already.
Hattaway
That’s right.Yeah.They were up in Casselberry—which you would never say “Casselberry,” you would say “Fern Park”—which today is the location of the Home Depot.
Motta
Near Lake Concord?
Hattaway
On 17-92 and Concord.That area.So yeah, there was a real rivalry going on between the small families with the Casselberrys.And those three, those were the three players.So.
Motta
And this was like the ‘50s, early ‘60s?
Hattaway
Yeah, ‘40s and ‘50s.
Motta
So when did the fern industry kind of start slowing down, in the area?
Hattaway
Oh, god.My father—I read this this morning—and it had so many ups and downs that I wasn’t even aware of—when I read his notes.And the, you know, just the price of fuel became so high, and labor became so expensive, that we really saw it when my father bought the place in 1951 from Hibbard, like 130 acres, Orienta Ferneries.He, within five years, was subdividing the fernery.And he became involved in real estate, which was a really smart move.
Motta
And these, the plots, were they designed for the houses and also, like, partially for ferns?Like, if somebody wanted to grow, like, a little on the side…
Hattaway
No. That was way before that ever happened.
Motta
Oh, okay.
Hattaway
That was a lot of little nurseries that were back in the ‘20s and ‘30s.
Motta
So this was purely real estate?
Hattaway
Yeah. purely real estate.Yeah.He started taking the fernery, which had a hundred and some odd acres, and started selling the land off itself to people that wanted to move.By this time, Altamonte Springs and Casselberry and the community started growing, and so people were starting to migrate, if you want to say that, from Orlando out into the country.And we were selling real estate lots on Lake Orienta—that was a fernery—and we took some of the slat sheds down and were selling real estate lots 100 feet wide, anywhere from 250 to 300 feet deep, for $2,000, for a lot, on paved road.
Motta
Around what year was this?
Hattaway
In the ‘50s—’58, somewhere along there, ’57, ’58.That area where Hattaway Drive is today, that drive that was all Orienta Ferneries, all the property that my father bought from Mr. Casselberry.But he went in like Hibbard.Hibbard went into the real estate business big time.He had a lot of land.And he saw the handwriting on the wall itself.The fern business was just not thriving.There was—and, a lot of artificial stuff coming down the line.People were using podocarpus.People were using [?], using a lot of fillers instead of using the fern.It was cheaper to buy a filler and put inside, in that corsage, for the price.
Motta
Oh.I was about to ask what were some of the reasons it kind of went down.That was pretty much just the artificial—were other parts of the country…
Hattaway
It wasn’t artificial, then.It was just shrubs and things they were cutting that they could stick into a bouquet of flowers.Bouquet of flowers won’t last, you know, a week, four or five days.So they could take sphagnum moss, or they could take a ligustrum, or something that’s leafy and green, and put it in a corsage at a cheaper rate than they could a sprig of fern, or a sprig of leatherleaf fern.
Motta
But if people did want those kind of ferns, were they still dependent on this area, or were there other parts of the country, do you know of?
Hattaway
Not from what I remember.It was mainly this area, plus the Pierson-Crescent City area, that was the mainstays.Later on, it became, everybody started to go off—not everybody.Several of the nurserymen started going off to Costa Rica and islands, and growing fern down there.In fact, one of the largest growers, probably still today, moved from Zellwood.Name was John Marcell.He moved to Costa Rica, and the last I heard, and I haven’t seen John in a long time, he had over 1,000 acres of saran shade cloth, growing leatherleaf fern, and ferns shipping all over the world.Actually, I’ve been told he controls the fern market in Costa Rica.This[?] big.[laughs]
Motta
Was Zellwood into the fern industry, or were they in other agriculture?
Hattaway
And actually Zellwood was—it was a small little town, still today.Marcell was the main grower at that time of leatherleaf fern.Went over to Lockhart, there was another grower over there, name of Joe Wofford, and he had a small fernery, probably ten or fifteen acres.He was growing leatherleaf fern.And Apopka itself had started transitioning over from the fern business—the Ustlers, Mahaffeys—golly, some other families there.But they were more into the tropical foliage business, and growing—building—greenhouses, taking slat sheds and growing tropical plants, which were now becoming very popular.So they shifted from the fern business over to the tropical plant business.And I shifted, also.I saw the handwriting on the wall.The one I built over in Oviedo, myself, it was only small as ten acres.But I sold that to another fernery guy out of Crescent City, took the money of that and started buying property in Altamonte Springs, off Hattaway Drive, and built my first greenhouses.And I went in the greenhouse business.So I shifted from the fern business over to the tropical foliage business.
Motta
More broad[sic].
Hattaway
Yeah. broader opportunity of selling to a greater amount of people.And my first greenhouse I built was out of used lumber, and I took a saw mill myself, and cut the two-by-fours and four-by-fours out of used lumber, and built my first building, which was 30 feet wide and a hundred feet long, which I have pictures of it there.And, gosh, over the years, became a pretty good size.[laughs]
Motta
And where did you say this first one was?
Hattaway
It was over just off of Hattaway Drive there in Altamonte Springs.Small place.
Motta
Okay.So how long were you—your property in Chapman, you said it was on Chapman Road?
Hattaway
Yeah.I was over there—I was in Chapman, probably, I had that nursery probably ten years.A good while, long enough that I’d made enough money working at night.At the Continental Can Company, they were paying me union wages, and I never joined the union.But I was making big bucks, and I was able to buy the land and do the things I’d need to do to get a business going.And it was pretty successful, but when I had the opportunity of selling that property to another person, then take that money and come back over into Altamonte, and go into a different business—although I was still in the agriculture business, it was a good shift.I ended up—well, the fernery there had 20 acres there on Hattaway Drive, and greenhouses—had probably ten acres of greenhouses there.And grew there for a number of years.To build the buildings, [?], build the buildings, I was—to get the lumber for that place—I was going, also to get the used lumber, I was going up and down the railroad tracks.They were taking down power poles and telephone poles, and I would cut the telephone poles and take the arms.At that time, they had arms going out with wires on them, and those were like three-by-fours, and they were like eight feet long, and I would use those for posts, as I gathered used stuff to build my whole nursery.
Motta
Were they just, like, the ones that they left there?
Hattaway
Yeah.
Motta
Was it okay that you took those?[laughs]
Hattaway
Yeah. definitely.They knew I was doing it.They were taking them down.
Motta
And, so, you pretty much built all those house, the original houses, yourself?It sounds like you’re a jack of all trades.
HattawayI am. [laughs]
Motta
Did you enjoy the growing aspect?Like, did you have a green thumb, or was it like…
Hattaway
Oh, yeah.
Motta
Did you enjoy the business?
Hattaway
I enjoyed the business, and I definitely did not have a green thumb.But I enjoyed the business, and I didn’t know anything else.What else could a guy do?There wasno—there was nothing out here.You either worked for the Hattaways, you worked for the Vaughns, you worked for the Casselberrys, or you worked for the Bradshaws in the grove business.This was agriculture community.There was nothing to do.Or, work at the dog track, something like that.So it was, you know—happy as a pig in slop.[laughs] What else can you do?This is what it is.
Motta
This might be going back a little bit, but did your family have any influence on early Altamonte Springs, like developing and like with the government?
Hattaway
No, my father did.He was elected a constable.He worked for Hibbard.And when Hibbard incorporated the City of Casselberry—I’ve heard my mother and father talk about that the night that they did the incorporation, they had a town hall meeting before it was ever incorporated in Mr. Casselberry’s office.There was a—had to have a certain amount of people in the meeting to have a quorum and to be able to appeal to the legislature for incorporation.
Motta
And this—as a town?
Hattaway
As a town.As a town.And they didn’t have four[?] people…
Motta
This was around 1940?
Hattaway
In the room, so my father left the meeting, went home—we lived on Concord Drive—and brought my mother to the meeting, and she voted, and that’s how, that was part of the process of incorporating the City of Casselberry.My father was elected in 1941 as the first constable of the City of Casselberry.And it was a, I guess, kind of a window-dressing job, but he was constable for eleven years in the City of Casselberry.
Motta
And that’s kind of like the police chief of the town?
Hattaway
That’s right.Yeah.He was the police chief.[laughs] I don’t think he even had a badge.[laughs] But that’s old time there.
Yeah.But you know, again, you know, this was small town, U.S.A.Hibbard would have—and I can remember this so well—he would, at Christmas time, he would have a big Christmas party on the front lawn of the offices, and for all the employees that worked for Mr. Casselberry, his entire operation.And he would get every kid a gift at Christmas time.And this was black, white, whatever it was be.He would always throw this big Christmas party.Big deal.You’d either get a knife or get a yo-yo or something like that.[laughs] But, and he was quite a—he was a good man.A lot of people, you know, just—vision, had great vision.And smart, wasn’t hard to talk to.He was a young man at that time.He was just good to us.He was very good for the community.Barnetts won’t tell you that.And the Vaughns won’t tell you that.But the Hattaways damn sure will tell you that real quick.
Motta
Did you know Mr. Casselberry personally, as a young man?
Hattaway
Mm-hm.Yeah.I knew him.He, and especially Leonard [Casselberry]. I don’t know if you’ve interviewed Leonard, Jane [Casselberry]?
Motta
Yeah. about a week or two ago.
Hattaway
Leonard used to come to my mother and father’s house, and Leonard would love to read comic books.[laughs] He—he wasn’t too energetic.[laughs] But he would come in and read the comic books, and Jane—they lived over off of the old race track road [Dog Track Road], at the horse track.He probably told you that’s what they built there, as well.
Motta
Yeah.Was knowing the founder and, I guess, owner at that time of Casselberry, was that like a—in this year, that seems kind of, like, strange, or maybe not strange, but—was it, did it seem like a big deal, or was he just like any normal citizen?
Hattaway
No. It was—to the normal person, it was probably a big deal.But because my father worked for him, and with him, I would go into my father’s office, and Mr. Casselberry’s office was right there.And he had a big picture window that he could look out into my father’s office, and then be able to look out into the grading there.They graded fern—longs, shorts, mediums, whatever you were looking for in the size of fern to ship.And, you know, he was just there all the time.He had a—I can remember so well—he had a big, big tarpon fish mounted in his office in back there.He would go to—my father, in fact, I’ve seen some pictures of him—he would go to the flower shows in Chicago or New York, where they might be, and Martha [Casselberry], his wife at that time—he married three times—Martha would wear, he would wear white riding pants—horses, cows?
Motta
Mm-hm.
Hattaway
And boots, real knee boots up there.With a big coat on.All in white.And a fern spray on this thing.Promoter.
Motta
Yeah. representing his…
Hattaway
Yeah.He was a promoter, as well.Promoted, and he had a knack about doing that, much better than the Vaughns and the Barnetts, as well.But, yeah, he was a good man.I can’t tell you that enough times.
Motta
So you started getting into the nursery, would it be considered nursery business or the greenhouse…
Hattaway
Greenhouses.Yeah.
Motta
How long were you involved with that before you looked more towards retail?
Hattaway
I started in the fern business when I got out of high school, 1954-55.I was in the fern business by 1960, with the fernery over in Chapman Avenue in Oviedo.And then started the first greenhouses and then grew that business.And I went out of the business in 1988, of the foliage business.So I graduated, basically, from the fern business over to the foliage, from the foliage into the foliage business itself.Ended up with this place, which is 500,000 square feet of what was greenhouses.But I built steel structure buildings, I told you.And today it’s now the steel structure buildings that are storing boats, cars, and recreational vehicles.1974-75, I bought a farm in Puerto Rico, and I started out with thirty, three thousand, building 3,000 square feet—300—yeah, 3,000, 30-feet wide and 100-feet long.And I bought a farm in Puerto Rico that was 80 hectares of greenhouses.And I was shipping fern or foliage plants from Puerto Rico, by sea freight, to Europe.So I moved from 33,000 square feet, to a farm here, and a farm in Puerto Rico.And I farmed in Puerto Rico, foliage plants, for twenty years, twenty-two years.
Motta
Did you sell that land, or still…
Hattaway
Yeah, I did.I sold it.I sold it.I wanted to go out of the nursery business.My brother, and then, by then graduated from University of Florida, had a degree in horticulture, and he wanted the nursery in Puerto Rico, so I sold the nursery to him in Puerto Rico.And he farmed in Puerto Rico for, I don’t know, another eight,-nine years.And we had three major hurricanes hitting back to back.First time we had insurance.We rebuilt.Second time, had insurance.Insurance company went belly up, and we rebuilt.And the third time, we said, “That’s it.”And we sold it.And then I was here all the time, and I just started converting all the buildings over to what you see today.
Motta
So about what time did you decide you wanted to get out of that business?
Hattaway
1988.
Motta
Okay.
Hattaway
Yeah.I already had another vision, what you see today.
Motta
Works out for you.
Hattaway
Yeah, it worked out.Yes.Yeah.It really—what was my whole plan at that time, was—I had roughly 30 acres here—was to add on a trailer park in front of me, which today is a public shopping center.And I was trying to buy their property, and I wanted to build a big industrial park, 40-45-acre industrial park.And I couldn’t buy that trailer park, and made them some ridiculous offers.I’m glad they didn’t take it, ‘cause the market went to hell in a handbag.I ended up, you know, basically looking at what they were doing, and I said, “If they will pay $35.00 a month to park a boat outside in an open field, with grass and grasshoppers, what will they pay to put it inside the building?”And from there, you know, it grew from there.So, in 1988, I was in the foliage business.In 2012, I’m now in the storage business.And the place is doing fairly well.
Motta
That sounds like a pretty brilliant idea, just converting the fields to this.Do you know if any other growers have took that...
Hattaway
No, no.They can’t.They all built buildings that were not convertible.They couldn’t do what I did.In fact, I saw Earl Vaughn two weeks ago. Had a funeral up in Apopka, and went over and we were talking—and I know Earl.Great guy.I like Earl.I don’t know if you’ve met him or not.
Motta
No.
Hattaway
You need to meet him.You need to meet Earl Vaughn.
Motta
I would love to.
Hattaway
Vaughn Greenhouses.They’re in the book.He’s no longer in the foliage business, but he has a farm, a foliage place up on [Florida State Road] Highway 46 up in Sanford.And saw him, and I said something, and he said, “Hattaway, what you did is brilliant.”He said, “I’ve been trying to do the same thing, except I can’t get my zoning.I’m in the Wekiva [River] Protection Area.”And so, he can do nothing other than what he’s doing.So, you know, fortunately, when I started building the buildings, I then started working politically to change the zoning on this place.And so I did it back early.If I tried to do it today, I’d probably never get it done.
Motta
Are you still involved in local politics?
Hattaway
I just write checks.[laughs]
Motta
[laughs] Well…
Hattaway
No, I’m still involved.I have a lot of friends in the political scene.I help them.You know, I served eight years in the [Florida] Legislature.Loved it, and had fun with it.Eight years at Orlando International Airport.That’s a full-time, non-paid political job, and did that for eight years.
Motta
And what was your—for the airport, what was your…
Hattaway
I was the—actually, I was chairman for four years, and vice chairman for two years, and on the board for eight.And the governor appointed me.Lawton Chiles appointed me.And so, I served there, and when I went on the board, there was $10 million worth of construction going at the Orlando International Airport.When I left, eight years later—yeah, eight years later it was—it was $500 million worth of construction going.And they had another $500 million committed to build the south terminal, and the new board decided that they didn’t want to do that, and so the new board today is trying to figure out how they can get the money to build the south terminal for international rivals.And, you know, that was a group of Democrats—John Rich, Bill Miller, Howard McNelty, myself—four really strong Democrats.We got in and got aggressive, said, “This place is gonna grow.”And we went from 22 million passengers—eight years later, it was like 31 million passengers.That’s growth.And all we did, we went out and started marketing the Orlando International Airport, as a board, as a group of people, with the mayor of Orlando, Linda Hood, and the county chairman, Linda Chapin.And we were a hell of a team, and we moved around this country, all around this world, basically.And brought airlines in, British Airlines[sic], Southwest [Airlines], Virgin [Atlantic].Those were all new carriers that came in that eight-year period of time.
Motta
Were you involved in the [Orlando-] Sanford [International] Airport or the…
Hattaway
That was my first venture.Back when we did that one, Kay Shoemaker was the chairman, and John—what was the name—Steve, he was the executive director.I can’t think of his last name now.But he came to me, I was a new board member, and he said, “You know, we need to go after international passengers for the Sanford airport.”So we went to Kay Shoemaker and talked Kay into letting us fly, I think it was, Toronto, Canada.And the concept that Steve had—and I was just the baggage, went along with him—that we need to go to Holiday Travel, and talk to them about direct flights from Toronto to Sanford, and not from Toronto to Orlando.And we met with the Holiday Travel, they thought it was a good idea, and he was very much in favor of it, but the issue was that the travel time coming from the Sanford Airport to [Walt] Disney [World], you didn’t have the 414, I think it is, or 4…
Motta
Oh,[State Road] 408, [State Road] 417?
Hattaway
417, yeah, coming across the lake.You didn’t have that segment built, and, so, that was a stopping point.When that segment was built, Holiday Travel and a lot of those guys started flying into Sanford, and bypassing Orlando.Well, in the meantime, I moved from the Sanford Airport board, over to the Orlando Airport.[laughs] So, it was quite a conflict there for a while.[laughs] And Larry Dale—and I don’t know if you know Larry—but Larry Dale and I had some real knockdowns and drag-outs about the airports.He’s the executive director of the Sanford Airport.
Motta
Oh, yeah?
Hattaway
Yeah.Yeah.
Motta
I’m curious how you, how did you even get involved with the airport, like the industry?
Hattaway
The governor.
Motta
Okay.
Hattaway
The governor.Yeah, I—when Lawton was elected—Lawton Chiles—I’d been in the Legislature.I knew him very well, and I worked with him for his election.And he was elected.He appointed me to the lottery commission.I didn’t believe in the lottery.I didn’t like the lottery.When it was approved, I was in the Legislature.I voted against it.And was opposed against it then, and Lawton told me, said, “I want you to be on that board.You’re the first Democrat to be appointed, and I want to get rid of the executive director.”I forget her name.She was really good, too.But he wanted to get rid of her and he wanted to change the entire board.He wanted to make changes.And so, I did that for a couple of years.And I was tired of it, and finally we just got enough Democrats on the board that I went to the governor, said, “I’m out of here.I don’t want to do this anymore.”In the meantime, when that happened, the [Greater Orlando] Aviation Authority thing came up available in Orlando, and I was supporting a Republican, Sue [inaudible] was her name, and Sue wanted to be appointed to the board.And I went to the governor to appoint her from Seminole County, and the governor says, “No, I’m not going to appoint a Republican.But I will appoint you if you want to take the job.”So I said, “Well, okay. I’ll do it.”
Motta
Did you have an interest in air travel?
Hattaway
Yeah, I did, because of Sanford.And I knew that it was a very, very important job.The Orlando International Airport is the economic engine that really runs this community today.And the things they’ve accomplished, and the size of the airport.This is number one around the state of Florida, certainly, that I enjoyed that.But I did, I was able to go into that segment having eight years in Tallahassee being a legislator, that I knew a little bit about politics, and I knew that a lot of my newfound friends that I found in Tallahassee, of eight years, when I was no longer elected, they didn’t know my first name or my last name.And when I was appointed to the Aviation Authority in Orlando, I told my wife, Charlotte, I said, “This is altogether different.We’re going to have a lot of brand new friends, and they’re going to love us for eight years.And when we’re gone, they won’t know our name.So we’re gonna do this different.We’re gonna do what the hell we want to do, and we’re gonna do the things that we think are right, and eight years from now, we’ll be good.”And that’s how we prefaced that.So it was fun.It was, like I said, it was a full-time—as a chairman—non-paid, political job.But would I do that again?Probably not.It was the right time.You know, I’ve been very fortunate that I’ve lived at the right time, when things were just starting to peak or things were really going smoothly, and everybody was getting along.
Motta
It seems like you’ve always been able to do what makes you happy.
Hattaway
I’ve been lucky.You’ll never sit across the table from a more blessed, lucky guy than me.Life has been good.With high school education, I’ve competed with all of them.
Motta
Work ethic.Whistling[?] away[?].
Hattaway
It’s worked out, worked out fine.[laughs] So, and I laugh about. In fact, I’ve brought my report cards in today for some reason, and I looked at those report cards, looking through stuff, and I said, “Man, I was a straight-F student.”[laughs] So, but, it’s been fun.Life’s been good, been good.
Motta
I wanted to ask you, for the Sanford Airport, when did that start becoming—when was it under construction?
Hattaway
It was, you know, it was a naval base [Naval Air Station Sanford], and then they converted over into a commercial airport, and I don’t remember the years.But I was on that board—phew.It wasn’t in the—must have been in the late ‘70s when they started converting it over.Yeah, I can’t remember the dates on that one.
Motta
So, did—it might have been the fern industry—I mean, it might have been kind of already low at that time, but was there any kind of transition?‘Cause you said the railroads, in the early days, that was like the artery.Was there, like, did the airports start to be more of a central thing with transportation?
Hattaway
With ferns, no.No.With the fern business, it became trucks.
Motta
Okay.
Hattaway
Everybody moved from the—we did some air freight, not a lot.Most of it was done by—the whole industry changed from trains and rail over to the trucking industry.So there was a—trucking lines were moving strictly either foliage plants or ferns by truck itself to the destination.The fern business itself—the labor, cost of labor, the cost of materials, the cost of land—all those things just became cost-prohibited to be able to do anything with it.You asked a question earlier about, you know, do I miss it?I loved the plant business.I really enjoyed it, and still today would like to be in the business, except I know I can’t make any money at it.And I’m not gonna fool around with something I can’t make money at as well.But, you know, the guys in Apopka and the guys that been in the fern business, and growing something, you know, a plant or product, I think they all will tell you, you know, it’s just a great place to—it’s a fun thing to do.And it’s really rewarding to put a little plant on a stem into a piece of sphagnum moss, and grow it to a finished product, and ship it.If I had a nickel for every plant that I’ve grown, I’d be a very wealthy man.Rick [Hattaway] enjoyed it.My brother enjoyed it very much.And I kept telling him, “You don’t want to go into the greenhouse business.You want to stay out of it.”My mother told me that as well.But, you know, he followed the family trade and did that as well.But, it’s a good life.It’s a good opportunity.
Motta
That whole watching something grow, that seems almost kind of like a good metaphor for your, all your business [inaudible].
Hattaway
[laughs ] Yeah.Yeah.I read an article today, an old one, gosh, about when I developed that orange grove over there, and it was—Phil [inaudible] was the city manager.It was quoting him about what I was doing over there, and how I environmentally was taking care of Lake Lotus, and all the things I did back then.But, you know, to see the growth, or where we were back in the ‘40s and ‘50s, and where we are today, people have opportunities.There were no opportunities when I was growing up.Either you worked in a fernery or you worked in an orange grove.There wasn’t high school education.People weren’t going to college.
Motta
You had to find your own…
Hattaway
You had to find your own, you had to make your own way at that particular point in time.
Motta
Since you brought that up, I’m curious what you think about how this area—I probably can’t imagine what it was like when you were a kid.What do you think?How do you think it’s progressed?Are you…
Hattaway
I’m for growth.I’m growth.Opportunities.I mean, I had a farm, sold it a couple years ago up in Alabama, little town called Opp, Alabama.And it was heavy agriculture, farming area.And today—Opp, Alabama—you can take a shotgun down the main street and not hit a soul.There’s just nothing to do there.And that’s the way it was here.The growth has been really, really, to me, healthy.It’s been giving good opportunities to people having good jobs.Our way of life—there are no poor people in this community today.You see some not as well off as others, but everybody either has a television, or everybody has food on the table.Everybody has an opportunity to make something of themselves, you see, if they want to take that opportunity.And back then, there was no opportunities.You had to make it yourself.And today there’s many doors open for employment, and it’s not all agriculture.At that time, it was.But am I in favor of growth?Absolutely.Has it been good for this community?Absolutely.Has it been good for this state?Absolutely.
Motta
Is there anything that you see in this community, that you don’t find good about—like, obviously, there’s a lot of good growth brings, but is there anything you lament that has changed, or any nostalgia?
Hattaway
I think the one problem that we have in our community is that we have not been able to keep up with the road—the growth with our road network—and mainly because of the lack of proper leadership from the Legislature.We’ve never had the political voting power to be able to build a road network they have on the south coast, South Florida—they have on the west coast.And our group has been splintered—Democrat, Republican— and many times have not worked together to have the power base in Tallahassee to get the state dollars to build—FDOT [Florida Department of Transportation]—to build our community.So we’ve not done a good job on our roads.And you have one major road going through this entire community, from Daytona Beach into Tampa, and that’s I-4.Other than that, you have very limited roads.If it wasn’t for the East-West Expressway [SR 408], the [Central Florida] Expressway Authority, we wouldn’t have any roads.So that’s been a blessing to us, but I think that’s our biggest problem.Our growth has been handled with zoning—comprehensive land plan—where the commercial’s going to be built, where the residential’s going to be built—all those things, I think, have been handled very well.We have a great water system, sewer system in Central Florida.We have all the things conducive to solid development, except the roads.And you get on these roads, and you know what it’s like.
Motta
Yeah.
Hattaway
Gridlock.
Motta
But I’m kind of surprised to hear that—weren’t a lot of the old, like ‘70s, ‘80s, ‘90s, Florida Republicans, weren’t they kind of pro-growth and infrastructure?Wouldn’t they…
Hattaway
Well, when I was in the Legislature back in the ‘70s, the [Florida] House [of Representatives] and the [Florida] Senate was controlled by the Democrats, and the Republicans were along for the ride.And then, when power shifted chains, we didn’t see a lot of growth coming here.I mean, we’ve had—I don’t want you to write this.
Motta
What’s that?
Hattaway
[laughs] I don’t want you to write this.This is off the record on this one.Yeah.
Morris
This is an interview with Charles Whittington. This interview is being conducted on the 18th of November, 2011, at the Museum of Seminole County History. The interviewer is Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Sir, could you tell us about where and when you were born?
Whittington
Yes, I was born in Seminole County, in Sanford, at the old Fernald-Laughton Sanford Hospital, and that was in March of 1938. The building is still standing, and the last time I was by there, it was used as a—I believe it was a halfway house of sorts. I’m not really sure, and I’m not well-informed on that, but that was my understanding. But it is still there. It’s across from the old Sanford library.
Morris
Okay, sir, and can you describe the place where you grew up?
Whittington
Yes, my dad owned a Sinclair [Oil Corporation] gas station on the corner of [South] Park Avenue and [East] Second [Street], and we had a little home on Oak Avenue.
When World War II broke out in 1942, my dad was offered a job as a machinist in the Navy shipyard[1] in Charleston, South Carolina. And we moved up there, and my dad worked in the division of the shipyard that later became the test bed for our first nuclear research into nuclear-powered ships. And it was highly classified and very structured, and he didn’t understand why at the time. and I didn’t either, until later, realized that no wonder was it top secret—I mean, because this was our first involvement in nuclear research for, you know, powering anything.
And then, in the latter part of 1943, my dad had saved enough money to come back here and buy a farm. We bought a little 13-acre farm on Richmond Avenue, and moved down there. And my dad—it was sort of a lifelong dream for him—went into farming. And at that time, primarily we grew celery, and corn and cabbage, other crops that could be shipped up north.
But the days of the small farmer in Seminole County, toward the end of that decade—the end of the ‘40s—was starting pretty rapidly to come to an end. The soil was worn out, and much of the farming had moved to the Everglades, to the area around Lake Okeechobee. And my dad hung on, and tried to make it, and he finally realized that we were going under, and this just wasn’t going to do it for us. And we sold the farm, and moved to Pasco County, down near Tampa, and he got back into the poultry industry there and did, you know, quite well.
But I hated to leave. I loved Sanford. I loved being raised on a small farm, and it was a big disappointment for me to leave Sanford, especially in my sophomore year in high school. The two schools were just as, you know, much different as night and day—the high school here and the high school down there. The one down there wouldn’t come anywhere near the quality of what we had here in Sanford, and I missed that very much. And I come back to Seminole County as often as I can, and that’s why I’m here today, for this interview and also to meet with some former classmates. And I still feel like this is my hometown, but it’s also, if anyone asks me where I’m from it’s always Sanford, not Zephyrhills.
Morris
Okay, sir. And you said your dad, prior to World War II, he ran or owned a...
Whittington
A Sinclair gas station.
Morris
A gas station. What happened to that when he moved to South Carolina for the machinist job?
Whittington
Okay. He sold it to someone else, and the station now is the office of Edward Jones Investment Agency, and Bill Kirchhoff had that, and I believe he has been here and talked to you folks. And he and I are good friends. Matter of fact, I’ve got a tractor radiator cap for him. I’ve got to get to him after our interview.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Whittington
But his dad was involved in the overall agricultural structure of Seminole County during the time that we had the farm on Richmond Avenue. He raised gladiolas in Florida and also in New York, and I think he even had some farms on the West Coast, and he would, you know, follow seasons. And also there was a problem with a little microbe in the soil here called a “nematode” that was not present in the soil of New York, because, you know, the soil freezes up there in the winter and kills these things. And here it doesn’t freeze, and these little guys do pretty well, and they really wreak havoc on both celery plants and gladiola bulbs.
Morris
These were nematodes, you said?
Whittington
Nematodes. Right. It’s a little microbe, and they attack the roots of the young plants.
Morris
How did you counter those when you were farming?
Whittington
You would flood the area. You would dam in a little area of the farm that would be the area for the seed beds, where the young celery plants were growing, and flood it for about two and a half weeks. And just keep, you know, a couple inches of water on it, with the well running in there, you know, all the time, and keep the water in there for about two and a half weeks. And that would kill the nematodes in this area, and you would raise your young celery plants in seed beds in this area. And once the plants caught up to, you know, a height of like three or four inches, they could deal with these little bugs. But it was the little bitty plants that they would go after.
Morris
And when they were the little bitty plants, that’s when you flooded, or did you flood and then plant?
Whittington
No. You flooded, then planted.
Morris
Okay.
Whittington
You would flood, drain it, and form the seed beds, and plant those. And I’ve got pictures I’ll send you too. You had to put muslin covers over the seed beds, because when the plants first came up, they were very sensitive to sun. So you had to keep them covered during the hot part of the day, and in the afternoon you would open the side of the cover, along all the way, halfway through the field, and let air, fresh air and sunlight in, with the sun over here, and in the morning, you would open, you know, the back side, other side, west side, and get air and sunlight in there. But not direct sunlight, because they were very, very—a celery plant is a very tender little guy when it’s, you know, when it’s an inch high.
Morris
Okay. And the sun would just be too strong for it early on?
Whittington
If you just opened it up, they couldn’t handle it.
Morris
Did you have to do that when they, when the little celery grew up, or...
Whittington
No. Once the celery got to a height of maybe two or three inches, then you could take the cover off, and it was okay then. But it was just when they were first starting, first coming up, that they were so sensitive to the sun.
Morris
Okay. What other kinds of problems did you have while raising celery, other than the sunlight, and other than the microbes? Was there any other kind of difficulty that you found out about?
Whittington
Well, the main difficulty would be weather during the, you know, winter months, when you planted celery—typically wasn’t an issue. But the real issue was the market price of the celery when you harvested it. You know, if it was good, why, you did okay. And if it was bad, you know, it was just another bad year.
Morris
What affected these—what would change from year to year that would make it a good year or a bad year for selling celery?
Whittington
Well, just the market price in New York. That was where we shipped. We shipped from the Sanford [State] Farmers’ Market, usually to New York and that—you know, the New England area. And it was just the price of celery up there that, you know, was whether you made it that year or not. And we had too many of the had-not years.
Morris
Oh, really?
Whittington
Yeah.
Morris
Okay. And what was your involvement? Like how old were you when you moved to the farm? And what was your involvement while you lived there?
Whittington
Well, I was five years old when we moved there, and we started farming. We started farming with a pair of mules. [laughs] Now this is how far back it goes. We used mules for plowing and discing and so forth.
And after this, we bought a Model F Fordson tractor. I’ve got a picture of this, and there are several online now. And my dad would let me drive it, but it was so hard to steer, until I was about 12 years old, I could not turn it around at the end of the row. It took that much power to turn the steering wheel. And also, I didn’t weigh enough to push the clutch in. The clutch was the lever that stuck out of the transfer case, and you had to press down on it, and I could stand on it, and it wouldn’t go anywhere. [laughs] So, obviously, I couldn’t operate the Fordson by myself.
Morris
Right.
Whittington
We later got rid of that and got a Model 8N Ford, and that’s the radiator cap for the one I have in my car, and it was, you know, had power steering and the hydraulic lift in the back, and so forth. And so, I did a lot of plowing, and discing, and running the tractor. That was, you know—10 years on, I did a lot of it. That was my part of helping.
Morris
No planting or harvesting necessarily?
Whittington
No. We—for harvesting the celery crops, we usually used crews of labor that we would hire locally. And they would plant the celery, and also cabbage or couple other plants that required—you know, physical planting—and then they would also do the harvesting and packing. And you contacted a crew leader, a team leader, and contracted with him to do the harvesting in your field. And we were just responsible really for, you know, making certain that the celery—if it was celery, or whatever the crop—was sprayed, in case there was any kind of a blight or a fungus, or some sort of an insect problem, that we sprayed it with the proper spray, and that we fertilized it, and also cultivated the rows to keep the weeds down, and it was a very labor-intensive occupation.
And I was very upset with my dad, especially in the later years, because he could’ve stayed on forever. He already had his foot in the door in the nuclear—the government nuclear involvement in the Military, and he didn’t even know it. I mean, he knew he was under a very tight security environment, but he didn’t know why. But he was an excellent machinist. He was moved up shop chief in no time at all, making good money, but his dream was always to come back to Sanford and own a farm. And, I mean, it was quite obvious by the end of, you know, the ‘40s, that the farming here was in trouble. And, you know, in later years, I thought, “Why couldn’t you have just stayed in Charleston with the Navy?” And, you know, gotten a civil service retirement. And we wouldn’t have, you know, been in the situation that we found ourselves in here. Although, like I say, I do really love Sanford, and loved growing up here.
Morris
Okay. A little bit of a catch-22.
Whittington
Yeah. That’s a very good comparison there.
Morris
Now, you said you moved here—you moved to Sanford when you were five.
Whittington
Uh huh.
Morris
How long was your dad a machinist for the Navy? Because I know when he moved up to South Carolina, you must have been only a couple years old.
Whittington
Right. Well, I was born in ’38, and we moved up there in ’42.
Morris
Okay.
Whittington
And he worked for about 18 months, and put everything aside. And that was enough to buy that farm, and so we came back. And that—and plus he had sold the gas station by this time, and he had some income from that, and so he put it all in that farm and getting some equipment, and…
Morris
Mules.
Whittington
Yeah. Mules. He had mules, and then the Fordson and then the Model 8N Ford, which I’m trying to find—got a couple leads on it—but I’d like to learn how to get some pictures of it.
Morris
Okay. So I’m kind of surprised, because when you moved to Sanford, World War II was still going on.
Whittington
Right.
Morris
And they didn’t have a problem, coming from a very heavily secured area, and during World War II, an able-bodied man—I’m surprised they just—that he was able to leave his job and become a farmer.
Whittington
That’s an excellent point, and I would be surprised at it except that farming was a fairly high-priority occupation, as far as the government was concerned, because you were feeding, you know, you were feeding the population, and providing some foods that could be used in preparation of foods for the—you know, our military. So that was effective. We came back here, and we’re going into farming wasn’t a problem. And he had—my dad had served in World War I in France.
Morris
Oh, okay.
Whittington
And he was past the draft age. So that was something else too. I mean, he was too old for, you know, for required military service.
Morris
Okay. And what was the cap at this time for age? The age cap before you could no longer be drafted?
Whittington
Joe, I don’t remember exactly. I think somewhere in the 30s—like 35?
Morris
Oh, okay.
Whittington
I believe that was it. I’ll do some checking, get back to you on that.
Morris
All right. Thank you, sir.
Whittington
I believe that was in, you know, mid-30s.
Morris
I was a little surprised they’d let such an excellent machinist, you know, leave so easily.
Whittington
Well…
Morris
Unless they put up a fight trying to entice him and keep him to stay. But it just seemed, during World War II, to let him go to farming—I mean, maybe they didn’t have any say in the matter, as well. That’s just where my question was going.
Whittington
Right. And I really wish that, of the many things you want to go back and ask your parents, something I’d really like to talk to my dad about is why you left. I mean, was farming that important to you, that you would leave, you know, a high-tech, high-paying, secure job like that, and go back into something that, you know, almost going in it was a known gamble, because there was problems with weather, insects, and, you know, always the market fluctuations?
Morris
Did he like his career as a machinist?
Whittington
Yes. He did. I mean, he liked that very much, but it didn’t have the pull that, you know, being his own boss in farming did.
Morris
I guess maybe it could have been just his own culture growing up, attached significance to farming and independence.
Whittington
Right. Well, he was raised on a farm in North Carolina.
Morris
Oh, okay.
Whittington
So, you know, that was his—where his roots were. He wanted to get back into it down here. And, of course, you know, in the ‘30s, Sanford couldn’t produce enough celery. I mean, it was the celery capital of the world.
Morris
Right.
Whittington
And some of that aura sort of hung over for quite some time, that, you know— “Oh, get a farm and get celery growing. You’ll get rich.” Well, that didn’t always work out that way.
Morris
Shoot.
Whittington
But, anyway, that was…
Morris
How long did your family own the farm?
Whittington
We sold the farm in 1950, and he leased another farm, and we stayed on ‘til 1953, and at Christmas that year, my sophomore year in high school, we left and went to Zephyrhills.
Morris
So how long did you live, then, in Sanford, from the first farm up until that, 1953?
Whittington
Okay. I was born here, and we lived here until we left in 1942, and then—the early part of 1942—and then toward the latter part of 1943, we came back. So I was only gone, like 18 months.
Morris
Okay.
Whittington
And then we stayed here until 1953, and I was a sophomore in high school at that time.
Morris
Okay, sir. Then, I know we talked a little bit about your father. Could you tell me more about your parents and any kind of siblings?
Whittington
I had one sister that was 17 years older than I was, and she graduated from Florida State [University], which was Florida [State] College for Women back then, with a degree in education. And she went to Melbourne and got a teaching job there, and when World War II started, the City of Melbourne offered her the directorship of the USO that they’d built in Melbourne for the, mainly the sailors, because there’s a lot of Navy and Coast Guard. You know, all these war activities at that time in that area. And so, Melbourne built a USO and offered my sister a job to run that, and she took it and did that until the war ended.
And my dad had a couple years of mechanical engineering at NC [North Carolina] State [University], and that’s why he did well at Charleston, because he had that—already had some college training in, you know, the math end of mechanical engineering. Well, it’s primarily math. But, the, you know, his roots in North Carolina—being raised on a small farm—just were too strong, and he wanted to go back to it. Plus, he just—he had the problem that a lot of folks have of not wanting to work for somebody else. That’s why he ran the gas station is because, you know, he was his own boss there, and, you know, he could hire somebody else to help him, but he didn’t report to anybody else. He was his own station, and he ran it the way he wanted to.
Morris
Okay. And what about your mother, sir?
Whittington
My mother helped my dad a lot. I mean, farming was sort of a family thing that you got into, because, I mean, there was just so much work to be done, that my mother frequently would help, not only, you know, taking care of running the home, but she would actually physically help with some of the labor on the farm itself. And I didn’t like that. It just seemed wrong that a woman should be, you know, having to make ends meet, to have to work, you know, on the farm. Even though it was not really heavy labor work. It was the fact that she still had to chip in and help us to make it. That bothered me. But she did, and never complained about it. But it was, you know—it was something that many families here did. The whole family was involved in farming. And I didn’t mind, you know, running the tractor at all. I liked it. I mean, that was [laughs]—especially the Ford that I could handle, not the big Ford, but the little one that was newer.
Morris
Well, sir, how has Sanford changed over the years, from…
Whittington
Sorry?
Morris
How has Sanford changed over the years?
Whittington
How’s it changed?
Morris
From when you grew up to how it is now, sir.
Whittington
Oh, okay. Well, the change that I noticed when I first came back was the decline of the downtown area, which is so typical of many small towns. The shopping moves out to shopping centers in the suburbs, and that has happened to me—that Downtown Sanford’s the perfect example of it. Because we had, downtown, we had a Firestone store and a JCPenney, and Lerner Clothing Store, and a McCrory’s Five and Dime [Store]—I can’t think of—two hardware stores, some regional area chain department stores, and two banks. And it was just, you know, it was a very functional little downtown area.
And you could see that starting to go. You know, stores would close and be empty, and then somebody else would try something else in it. It wouldn’t make it. Now, it’s a lot of antique shops down there, and that’s about it. I mean, that’s that whole main street, is antique shops. And I didn’t like to see that. The old telephone company was over the JCPenney store. There was an old manual switchboard with operators on the second floor of the JCPenney building, and then there was the Thudson[?] Drugstore on one corner, and the Roman Anderson[?] Drugstore on the other. There were no Target or pharmacy or CVS, any of those. You know, there were none of the chain stores. The Eckerd chain was the first one down here—Eckerd and Walgreens. But, you know, during my growing up years, those two were places that you hung out, and you could get a hamburger and a malt, or, you know, whatever. And, also, there was a pharmacy there. And I hated to see those go, because that was, you know, that was just a very active part of Sanford.
Morris
Okay, sir. And where have you lived over the course of your life?
Whittington
Well, after I got discharged from the hospital following that jet accident in the Air Force, I immediately went right back to the Cape [Canaveral] and applied to NASA [National Aeronautics and Space Administration] and got on. This was during the Gemini program.[2] I got on at the flight simulator over at the Cape. And I worked the NASA contracts. I was at Houston[, Texas] twice. I was in Ecuador for one time, and then a tracking station in the Smokey Mountains, and was there through, well, after the end of the Skylab program. When that ended, and the shuttle program wasn’t yet, you know—we’d gone to the Moon and done that thing with the Apollo series, and the shuttles weren’t flying it, so there was a massive layoff. I got caught in that.
And I got into the telecom industry, and followed that all over the country as a contractor. And I found that I could—of course, you weren’t building any pension or retirement—but I found that I could make more money than a company employee. I could make more money as a contractor if I was willing to move around. And you just had to discipline yourself, and put aside what otherwise would have been your retirement from the company. And I did that and did all right. And I liked to travel. But I ended up in an ISP [Internet service provider] Internet hosting outfit in Seattle[, Washington], and was doing that when I retired in 2001. You know, the travel and, you know, the change, the challenges of new jobs, and being able to go to a new area and move into the new company and a new job—that part of moving around was attractive to me.
Morris
What kind of places did you move, sir? For example?
Whittington
Okay. I was in San Francisco[, California], and was there during the earthquake, and was in Los Angeles[, California], and then in the Seattle area for about 10 years. and then, prior to that, I had moved around just for, like, a few months at a time, in various places all over the U.S.—Indianapolis[, Indiana] and Chicago, Illinois]—you know, for like maybe six weeks or two months at a time on just a contract job. And, it was interesting, but I was single then, and just pull up and move without any real concern. It was okay.
Morris
You said you liked to travel, sir. Have you ever traveled outside of the country? Or—vacation travel?
Whittington
Yes. Yes. I have. I’ve traveled to, well, the South America travel was mainly as a function of the Military and NASA time. But I’ve traveled to England, and done the Hawaiian Islands, was in Israel in Tel Aviv for five weeks for a company school. And that was an eye-opener. That really was. I mean, I got a good look at the Holy Land. It was [laughs]—it was a lot different than I expected. It really was.
Morris
How so, sir?
Whittington
Well, those people have got an unreal—I’m talking about the Israelis—have got an unreal work ethic. I mean, if they are asked to work 24 hours a day, and there’s a need for it, they’ll do it, and no griping. You don’t find that very much in the U.S.
I mean, they are very, very much—uh, I can’t really express myself here—loyal to Israel, and to their faith, and to the country. I mean, just, you know, they’ve got a country, and they’re going to hang onto it now. And the [laughs], the guys around them had better not mess with them. I can say that from being there, and being in the technology. I know what they’ve got. And they can—the guys around them can end up a big smoking hole in the ground over there, if, you know, they push Israel too hard.
Morris
All right, sir.
WhittingtonThey might hurt Israel too, but they’ll come out the losers.
Morris
And have you travelled anywhere else, sir, for work or vacation? You said South America. What countries in South America?
Whittington
Okay. I’ve been over a good bit of England, and I was in Alaska, and was in the Army up there. I liked that, but I’ve been back just as a tourist with my wife, and took my in-laws up there. And the Hawaiian Islands several times. I’ve not done China. I’d like to see China. I really would. And that’s kind of the feeling I got, because there was a contract. The Chinese were going to completely replace their aging landline system with a…
Morris
Towers?
Whittington
With a tower network.
Morris
Okay.
Whittington
Yeah. With towers, and cell phones. And several different companies had some pretty good contracts over there, if you’d go and stay for as long as you could take it. But, some of the places I heard about, you know, they were all right, and some were pretty Spartan—I mean, food and accommodations. And you having been there, you probably would validate some of that. I don’t know.
Morris
Some of it, sir. When was this going on? When were these contracts for landlines or...
Whittington
Okay. The contracts for China were, like, in the mid-‘90s.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Whittington
There was some openings there, and that kind of moved around. It would change a lot, and I never could get somebody to, you know, sit down with me and say, “Okay,” you know, “here’s what we can offer you, and here’s when you leave.” And I never was able to find it at that point. Perhaps it’s a good thing. But anyway, I’ve not been there. I’ve met a good friend my wife worked with in San Francisco and Seattle that is from Ethiopia—not Ethiopia. [sighs] Can’t say it. Starts with “E,” and it’s part of the Soviet Union. Oh, fiddle.
Morris
Is this in Africa or Asia?
Whittington
No, it’s in…
Morris
Oh, is it Estonia?
Whittington
Yeah. Estonia. [laughs]
Morris
Oh, okay.
Whittington
I couldn’t say it. And he’s gone back to Russia several times, and the pictures and so forth. And the stories I got from when I would talk to him afterwards, I don’t really have any desire to travel in Russia. And that’s not one of the things I want to do. I want to do Europe first, and really work it over really good, and Hong Kong and Japan. Those are ones that I really wanna [laughs]…
Morris
They’re both very nice. Sir, are you still working right now?
Whittington
No. I’m retired now.
Morris
Okay. How long have you been retired, sir?
Whittington
I retired in 2001.
Morris
Okay. And what have you been doing to, you know, kill your time since then, sir?
Whittington
Okay. I’m very much into researching my ancestry—into genealogy. I’ve got a solid trace back to, now, I don’t if you’ve ever heard of this, the story of Dick Woodington and his cat.
Morris
No, sir.
Whittington
But this was a guy who was Lord Mayor of London four different times. And anyway, he was a far-distant cousin, and I’ve gone 200 years past him, with a solid trace back, and that was a lot of fun. And I think I’ve got my own family tree built now. I’m working my wife’s, and just anybody else that pops up. I thought, “Well, let’s just see what,” you know, “theirs looks like.” That’s a lot of fun.
I’ve been in ham radio for, since, well, it was 11 years old, and that technology keeps advancing. I mean, we were digital before digital phones were, you know, the thing. We were bouncing, you know, signals off the Moon, communicating that way. We’ve got a whole bunch of satellites up. Not our satellites, but we’ve got ham radio, we would piggyback on a lot of satellites that are up there. So you can send up with a little handheld and talk to somebody on the other side of the earth. And that, to me, is fascinating. So that’s been something that’s kept me really busy with my time—is ham radio.
And my wife and I like to travel, and, you know, if we get a few days that we can see we can get away to do something, we get in the car and go. And that’s, you know—we had a great big map when we were in California, a huge, plasticized, ceiling-to-floor map of the whole state. And when I was there, I was able to take off, you know, and be gone for a week at a time, with no charge against any vacation time, because I was on-duty 7 by 24 out there. They didn’t require that much support, but I had to be there. So if I wanted to leave, they’d fly one of the managers out there to watch my equipment, because it was a little vacation for him to San Francisco, and we’d take off. And we went to little towns that we’d just find this map and say, “Let’s go there this weekend.” And we’d go to little towns in California that the average Californian had never heard of, and go spend the night, or sometimes not spend the night. Just go, come back. The travel was a big thing out there, especially in the mountains. Of course, California’s got a lot of them, and that was an interesting thing.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Whittington
I was involved in the Voyager aircraft project that flew around the world, non-refueled, nonstop. It was the bird [Burt] Rutan designed. Canard, weird-looking airplane. And I worked on that for about two and a half months, or two and a half years, as a volunteer on the staff for the world-record flight, and they wanted me for my NASA background, because I knew how to solder without putting a lot of weight in the airplane and solder. Because they proved that if you improperly—if the crews that built the big Saturn [inaudible] spacecraft that we used to go to the Moon—they used too much solder—you could end up with five tons of solder in the spacecraft, that it would never get off the pad. And, so there’s a very finite point in soldering where you can, you have just barely enough but not too much solder, and I had instructors for hand-soldering for, you know, air space flight hardware. And the Voyager crew wanted me for that reason, because I could keep the weight down. We put something in the plane in the wiring—in the way it’s hooked up.
Morris
And when’s this again, sir? Like, can you give me a time frame?
Whittington
This was from, like, ’84 through, the plane flew in ’87. It was those years.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Whittington
And they were up for just under 10 days, but they flew all the way around, you know, nonstop, from Edwards Air Force Base, back to Edwards Air Force Base, in California, nonstop and non-refueled.
Morris
Did you enjoy working for NASA and with NASA projects?
Whittington
Oh, yeah. Yeah. I was very much into that, and I also enjoyed the work when I was assigned to Patrick [Air Force Base] over at the Cape, because we were supporting the NASA effort, and we were right on the cutting-edge of everything there. And that was extremely, extremely fascinating and challenging. And it was the kind of a job you’d go into early, not to be on overtime—‘cause you couldn’t just go clock in arbitrarily—but just to be part of it. And I worked the midnight shift, and a lot of times I’d still be over there at noon just hanging around, watching stuff. You know, just to be part of it, and, you know, you’d realize, “Hey, I’ve got to go home and get some sleep.” And sometimes they’d run you out, when there were too many of us hanging around, but it was extremely fascinating.
Morris
And, sir, you mentioned your wife. How long have you been married, and who is she? Where did you meet her?
Whittington
Okay. My first wife I met here locally. She was from Plant City, and we were married 16 years, and got a divorce. I was divorced 12 years, and I met my second wife in Zephyrhills, and she was with a company in California that provided mortgage insurance—was part of this thing. It kept the housing bubble sort of going, because it allowed you to buy a home with mortgage insurance instead of a much larger down payment. And it was a good concept. There was nothing under-handed about it. But anyway, she had 20 years with them, and she was in charge of a team that would go to the various offices around the country and underwrite, you know, maybe 500 loans at one time. They’d be there a week, and as such, you know, they flew constantly, and we always had a whole stack of frequent flyer tickets on the dresser. And we flew to England, to Ecuador, to Hawaii, to Alaska twice, on frequent flyer passes [laughs]. And took her folks to Alaska. And she enjoyed her work and enjoyed the travel, and I enjoyed being able to grab those tickets and say, “Let’s go to jolly old England.” [laughs]
Morris
That must have been very convenient.
Whittington
It was.
Morris
And do you have any children, sir?
Whittington
Yes. I do. I have a daughter and two boys. And my daughter lives in Brooksville, and the boys are in the Atlanta[, Georgia] area.
Morris
What are their names and ages, sir?
Whittington
Okay. My daughter is 46 now, and the oldest boy is 44, and the youngest one is 37. So they’re getting up there.
Morris
Are they all from the first marriage?
Whittington
All from the first marriage. Right.
Morris
Okay, sir. And, okay. Are they doing anything similar to what you did?
Whittington
No. My daughter worked as a—she did hematology studies for Smith Klein Beacham in veterinary medicine. And I thought she was going to stay with it, because it was, you know, an excellent field, and she got out, and got into, of all things, running a business, and she’s got a fairly large one. But have you noticed on the freeways, you’ll see a large load being hauled on the freeway, and there’s a truck ahead of it with a flashing light?
Morris
Mm-hm.
Whittington
Called a pilot car?
Morris
Yes, sir.
Whittington
Well, she has a pilot car operation in Brooksville, and she’s the biggest company east of the Mississippi. And she covers the whole country, because she’s got contract drivers for her all over the country. That one driver can take the load from here to there, and then somebody else picks it up and goes on. And she even had a contract with NASA to escort those solid rocket boosters from the West Coast to the Cape. [laughs] And, you know, this was—she said, “Well, Dad will be proud of this.” And I was. And she asked—they would always—when they would ship these boosters back, they would send two engineers from the plant with them, because they were very critical insofar as temperature and pressures and so forth went, even though they were solid fuel. And one of the engineers told her one time, he said, “If you see smoke coming out of the casing for one of those boosters, run.” And she said, “Right, sir! But let me ask a question: which way?” [laughs] And I thought her sarcastic humor was a little bit funny, because, really, which way is it gonna go if it pops, you know? But, anyway, she does that.
And the oldest boy, regrettably, had a stroke a couple years ago, and his, you know—he won’t be working anymore. And the young one works for a granite quarry in Atlanta—the north side of Atlanta—and is driving a truck, a dump truck. [laughs] So…
Morris
Very eclectic.
Whittington
Yeah. But he’s still—even in this economy, he’s still staying employed. So, you know, more power to him. [laughs]
Morris
Definitely, sir. Could you tell us a little about your military experience?
Whittington
Military experience. The first one—I was in the Army, and they sent me to Indianapolis for court reporter training, and I thought, “Wow,” you know, “A court reporter!” And after four months there, learning to transcribe, you know, court proceedings, they sent three of us to Alaska, and we got up there, and they had civil service court reporters and no need for us. So they assigned me to the Army dock in Downtown Anchorage[, Alaska], and it was one of those dream tours that you get one of in the service. There were seven of us assigned there. There was a captain, and two NCOs [non-commissioner officer], and the rest of us were enlisted.
And during the summer months, when the port was open and—you know, real busy, you’d work sometimes 36 hours straight, and during the winter months, when it was froze up and closed, you’d pull secure watch for 24 hours and, you know, you were off 48. Well, it wasn’t missile science for us to get together and say, “Hey guys, let’s pull it for a week straight and take two weeks off.” [laughs] So I lived to ski though. I did. I loved skiing, and during winter months, you know, I’d work my week and then that was it. They wouldn’t see me again until two weeks’ time went by.
Morris
You would have to be awake for a week straight, sir?
Whittington
Oh, you wouldn’t have to be awake. You’d just have to be on-duty there. The place was closed up and frozen over really. And you just had to be there and answer the phone. That’s all.
Morris
Okay, sir.
Whittington
And also pull fire watch, and whatever.
Morris
No. I understand.
Whittington
But you didn’t do anything. There were only two TV stations in Anchorage at that time. [laughs]
Morris
Got a lot of reading done, sir?
Whittington
Yeah. You did a lot of reading.
Morris
Caught up on world events?
Whittington
[laughs] But anyway, I should have stayed in. I mean, I was—I made E[nlisted Rank]-4 after 18 months. and I had my private license at that time, and if you had any college at all—I had one year at Southern—Florida Southern [College]—you could apply for the warrant officer program, go to Fort Rucker, Alabama, and get helicopter training. And I always wanted a rotary wing rating. I mean, I wanted a chopper rating. But some little voice said, “Don’t do it.” Because if I had, I’d have been one of the first Huey pilots in [the] Vietnam [War].
Morris
Yeah.
Whittington
One of the first, ‘cause this was in 1959, and I would have gotten through warrant officer school and flight training by about 1961, and Vietnam was just starting to stir about then. And a good friend from high school here was the first commissioned officer killed in Vietnam, Terry Cordell. First one killed over there. And I knew Terry. He was our football captain, and he was a senior, and I was a freshman. Just a real nice guy. But flying an observation plane, got shot down. That was the end of Terry.
Morris
And then you got out of the Army. What after that, sir?
Whittington
Went out of the Army in 1959, and enlisted in the Air Force in ’62, and was in there until July ’64, when I got the medical discharge. And I was actually [laughs] —I don’t even like to tell people about it, but in—when I saw the end of the NASA thing coming, the Army had a program at that time called “Stripes for Skills,” and they offered me an E-5 and choice of assignment, which I took Denver, Colorado—but based on my NASA background. They wanted somebody that had some satellite experience, and so the deal was that I go through a little three-week refresher basic, and then would be assigned to Denver, Colorado, as an E-5. And they enlisted my wife at the same time. This was my first wife. She had court reporter experience, and they would put her through the same program, and she would have to go through the full wide basic, but they would assign us to both to go to the same base, and as much as they could, you know, in the military, would keep us together.
But at that time, I’d had a medical discharge, I had three kids, I was overage, I had all kind of disqualifiers. And a retired general and old-timer [inaudible] there where I was working for NASA, said, “Go to the Pentagon.” And, like a dummy, I climbed in the car, and we headed off to the Pentagon, and got there at eight o’clock in the morning, and got in with the crowd that, you know, was going into work, and I fell in with this bird colonel, and he said, “Where are you going?” And I said, “Well, I need to see the Army G2.” And he says, “Oh, yeah?” [laughs] He couldn’t believe this—me and my wife and three kids. I mean, it blew him away so badly, that he took us and signed us in, and he says, “Stay right here.” And finally, somebody from that office came down, and saw all of us kind of sitting there, and he said, “What do you want?” I said, “I want a waiver for the disqualifiers that are keeping me out of the Minuteman program.” And I talked to the guy for about an hour, and I’ve got the letter that waives my disqualifications to go back in the Army. [laughs] You know, this was after a medical discharge, three kids, and overage.
But anyway, I went to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, went through this little basic training, which was kind of fun—learning the new weapons and new techniques and stuff. And then, everybody else left, and no assignment. Another guy and I were by ourselves in the outfit, and just the cadre people were still there, and finally, they came through and they said, “We hate to admit it, but the Army has enlisted about 10 people in that career field for every slot we have.” And he said—this was the [inaudible]—said, “We can’t offer you Denver, Colorado.” Or Fort—can’t think of the base there now—but he said, “We can offer you Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, and E-3, and no concurrent assignment with your wife.” And I said, “Or what else?” And he said, “Or a discharge.” And I said, “Let’s go with plan B.” [laughs] So, I mean, I had a very short second enlistment in the Army.
Morris
After all that trouble.
Whittington
After all that trouble, you know.
Morris
Shoot.
Whittington
But I didn’t really like the changes I’d seen in the Army either, at that time. I just don’t know. It just—there was a change in discipline, and attitudes, and stuff, that I would have had trouble with, because of coming from the Army of the late ‘50s to the Army of the mid-‘70s. And, I mean, there were guys, even in the training barracks, sitting in the dark smoking pot, and it was—I mean, I’m not that much against pot, but it was against Army regulations and against common sense. And to think like that, I was just this lad, and it didn’t work out, because I’m sure that would have gotten me in trouble, complaining about it—those kind of issues later on. So it’s just as well that I didn’t end up in that.
Morris
Okay, sir. And was that the end of your military experience then?
Whittington
That was the end of it.
Morris
Okay. Are there any historical events that come to mind, over the course of your entire life, sir? Like anything in your life that you felt like stands out or was, you know—that just changed your world, I guess I could say?
Whittington
Well, being on the biomed[ical] council at Houston for the flight of the Apollo 8, the slingshot flight around the Moon, that to me was, it was just sort of a highlight in my life, because I was part of something that it was a first for us, for the U.S., that we were going to the Moon, and I’ll be in a small part. I was part of it. And I was just so impressed with the guys in the spacecraft. I was watching all their, you know—their biomedical functions, and I had no medical training at all. I was there being able to feed the biomed data that was being stripped out of the calorimetry to anyone in mission control that needed it for any reason. All they did was call me and say, “Give me biomed.” And I could patch that data to them, and I had to keep the equipment that stripped it out of the calorimetry downstream, had to keep that up and running, and it was real fussy stuff, because it was built very hurriedly. But, I was watching all of their, you know, their vital signs, and Frank Borman—Colonel Frank Borman—the mission commander’s pulse at T-2 was 80, and mine was way over 100. I mean, I was wound up. We’re going to the Moon! And, here he’s up there, “Okay, let’s—gonna go?” You know. And I was—I thought, Wow. The ultimate test pilot. You know, the thing could blast into a million pieces. You know, he was ready to take a chance on it.
Morris
Okay, sir. That’s interesting.
Whittington
That was, that’s sort of a highlight, and the time in Israel was, that too was a definite attitude-adjuster for me because, you know, seeing the way those people live, the way they felt about their country, and their faith and everything, it just—and I felt that every American Jew, really—they can’t now, because of the mess over there—but I felt that back then, they should spend some time in the Holy Land and see, you know, where they came from, and get an experience with the people who still lived there. The attitudes over here are a lot more lax and whatever than they are in Israel.
Morris
Definitely, sir. Is there anything you’d like to discuss that we haven’t covered?
Whittington
That’s about it. It’s been a real pleasure discussing this with you.
Morris
Thank you, sir. It’s been a pleasure.
Whittington
And, you know, if you can send me a CD or something, I’d love to have it for the record.
Morris
I will definitely do that, sir.
Whittington
Okay.
Youngers
Today is December 10, 2010. My name is Stephanie Youngers and we’re here at the Museum of Seminole County History doing an interview with Mrs. [Mary] Carolyn Bistline. How are you, Mrs. Bistline?
Bistline
I’m fine. Thank you.
Youngers
And if you’d like to start with where and when you were born?
Bistline
Oh. It asks my name—I have your little paper here, and I’m seeing that it says your name, and I usually mention to some people when it’s important and necessary for the record that my first name is Mary, but I’ve never gone by that name. My middle name’s Carolyn and that is how I’ve always been recognized. My birthday is three days before Christmas, and so there were carolers outside when I was born, and that’s why my mother decided on Carolyn.
Youngers
Very nice.
Bistline
And that was in 1928. In the Dark Ages. I was born in Memphis, Tennessee. My dad had little desire for farm life, and they were living in the Carolinas. But he was good at mechanics, and so he took a chance to move from South Carolina—before I was born to Memphis—with an offer for a job where he got on a newspaper. However, the job didn’t last all that long, and so we moved back to the farm when I was about four, I think. And my little brother came along. That was in Clemson, which is formally called Central[, South Carolina]. I don’t think they call it that anymore, but that was the little town on the side of the road. And then we moved to Miami when he was about a year old, which I think was 1936. I’m not sure of my brother’s age precisely.
Bistline
So, I essentially grew up in Miami, which was just starting to boom. We thought it was a big city. We went there, but it wasn’t as big then as it came to be as I grew up. In our little neighborhood—or our community—we were happy and knew all our neighbors. No worries about crime. I went to Santa Clare[sic][1] Elementary and Robert E. Lee Junior High School and rode my bike and we loved going to the beach and the skating rink, etcetera. But in starting high school, I decided to attend Miami Senior High [School], which was not the nearest school to our home. This meant I had to ride the bus downtown, and then take another bus across town. And the bus stop was several blocks from my home. So, I had to go early every day to make it there, but I loved the school. I was in the chorus and several clubs, and very active at Miami Senior High School. Now they have several Miami high schools, among others. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Miami…
Youngers
I have.
Bistline
You have. Well, there’s more than one. This is the northeast section of Miami where I went. And I lived in northwest.
Youngers
Oh, goodness.
Bistline
But the Andrew Jackson [High School] was nearest to me, and I didn’t want to go there. As it turns out, my brother ended up going to [Miami] Edison [Senior High School], which was not too far away, and we were bitter rivals. So we played football, we were both on each side, even in the band. I visited, when I was in high school, a military high school in Atlanta[, Georgia], because I was dating a young student there—a young man that I had gotten acquainted with at church. And I really enjoyed going there, because I got to see a real military-type formation. They did all the things. They did first—and then the dress parade, and the graduation and the dance afterwards. Of course, there were stipulations how I had to dress. I had to wear a picture hat, which was the big straw hat, you know—it’s called a “picture hat” at that time—with flowers on the crown. And the long gown. I remember again, I was having been raised in Miami, that I was inclined not to wear hosiery, unless I was wearing…
Youngers
That’s because it’s too warm.
Bistline
Well, I had them. But I hadn’t put them on, because I thought that with the long dress, I wouldn’t need them. And so his sister came in to see and check on me, and I was getting dressed, because this was very formal, and she said, you’re not wearing your stockings. And I said, “Do I need them?” She said, “Absolutely, yes.” [laughs] So I really learned that this was military life, and that was the way they were. They were very formal. But I did enjoy it, and I dated him for really several years.
Youngers
And this was when you were in high school?
Bistline
Yes. But everything really began to develop land-wise and population-wise in Miami when World War II started. So there were a lot of servicemen in our church in Downtown Miami. So I dated mostly servicemen. And so it went to where I had been dating steadily with this boyfriend, I went to dating others. Miami became a [inaudible] city. Too big. Too much traffic. And there was an influx of Cubans, and later Haitians. And Miami Beach—having been made of Jewish folks mostly from New York, and etcetera—was taken over, you might say, by servicemen. Navy, Army, Air Force. And South of Miami—Homestead—also became service-occupied. Did you say you had been to Miami, or you had been…
Youngers
Yes.
Bistline
You know something about it?
Youngers
I’ve been to Biscayne Bay. I’ve been to Coconut Grove. Been to various places down there.
Bistline
My brother lives in Coral Gables. He’s an attorney, and now in the process of semi-retirement. A liaison, you might say, or mediator, in the circuit courts and so on. Just something to do. He’s really not handling, but he used to handle civil cases and had to learn Spanish while he was along the way. He drove downtown from the Gables every day, and then when he got to Flagler, he would drive up into the parking garage and park it and then go upstairs and cross Flagler to his office in the federal building. And when he was through with his day at work, he’d come back across—three or four stories up over Flagler—the walkway, and then get in the car and in the garage and drive back to Coral Gables.
Youngers
Right. Wow.
Bistline
Because he avoided downtown anymore. But when we were little, we went downtown to church, we’d get our shopping downtown and everything. We weren’t cautious or worried about it.
But in 1946, I graduated, and then I went to Florida Southern College in Lakeland, Florida. And it’s a lovely, quiet, small town, which I liked. And I met Fred [Bistline] and dated him for a year. We married in 1949, after he graduated. We lived off-campus for a year since I had one more year of college. And I graduated in 1950, in the spring, already expecting. And in September of 1950, our first child was born in Lakeland.
In December of 1950, we moved to Longwood, because Fred had a chance to get on with Minute Maid Corporation, and he was into citrus. He was one of the first ones to go into citrus school there on campus. And so we’ve lived there ever since—here, in other words, where we live now—for 59 years in the same house, ever since. We actually stayed in a little guest cottage before we could build on their property, the Bistlines.
I started teaching in the old Lyman School, which is[sic] of course been torn down, and that was the school that Fred attended all 12 years. He played football there. He grew up in that school, because that was first [grade] through 12th [grade] at that time.
And I taught second grade. And during my high school year, I had worked as a clerk in a 10-cent store, as we used to call it—Woolworth’s in Downtown Miami, as a file clerk in a furniture store—my uncle’s—and I also worked one summer in the office at the church in Downtown Miami. And I also did a lot of babysitting. But when I went to college, I decided to be a teacher. I had always thought I wanted to do that. So I received a degree in Elementary Education and Early Childhood [Education], and that was a very, very hard year—my first year of teaching. And it was a very extremely hard time for me. But I’m glad I stayed with it, because I became a teacher and have been for all these years.
Youngers
And you stayed at Lyman for the whole time?
Bistline
No, I taught one year at Lyman and I had a downstairs basement room, really, with stairs to climb to come and go. And I had a young boy who was paralyzed from the waist down, and I had to get him up under his armpits and lift him and drag him up those stairs to get him to the top level and put him in a little chair with casters on it—because he was paralyzed—and take him to the bathroom down the hall. And of course, I would always not quite make it in time, and then all high school boys would be in there between classes, and they’d say, “Mrs. Bistline, get out of the boy’s bathroom.” And I’d say, “I’m sorry, but I’m here because I have to get this little guy in and out. “And I’d try to go between classes, but I couldn’t always make it, so—but I remember how Chucky was so dearly loved by all of our other students, because they could take him in the wagon, and they could pull him—we had an outside door to the playground, and he would bring his cowboy hat and guns, and pretend he was a cowboy. And they would pull him around, and take turns. Just loved to be able to be the one to take Chucky for a ride. We really adored him.
Youngers
Where did you go after Lyman?
Bistline
After I left Lyman—I’ll get into that a little bit later. I went to stay at home for a while and had another child, a little girl. And at that time, it was really—I felt—in my best interest not to put my children in a school, or in a place where, anyway…
Youngers
Childcare.
Bistline
Mm-hmm. Childcare. I didn’t think they were really well set-up. I didn’t really like them an awful lot, so I stayed home as much as I could with them—my children—when they were born to when they were about of age to go to preschool.
Bistline
Now you asked, there’s a question here about your family history. And I don’t know how I got onto that, because I wanted to try to go by your questions. And I see it there—number three—on the page…
Youngers
Oh, it’s fine.
Bistline
Oh, I’m trying to keep my head on by writing this all down, because I’m not good at remembering things. Anyway, number 10 says—my family history. And so I wrote down some things, which I’ve just told you and Kim [Nelson] about a few minutes ago before we started officially here. I’m trying to have it researched now, and a lady and I—a local historic society is doing genealogies. But when she did mine, she traced names and birth dates only, back to the 1700s, which was interesting, but I’m curious about the occupations they had, and the birthplaces, some of which she did find. So I’m going to have to find someone who will delve further back, maybe, and find out what the people did, their jobs.
And then one of the next questions on your list—“Do you know any stories about how your family first came to Seminole County?” Well, that would be my husband—and I’ll tell a little bit about him—my husband Fred and his mother Adeline Alvina Niemeyer, were born in Longwood. So my husband’s brother John [Bistline, Jr.] —whom you’ve met, I’m sure—was born in Longwood. And he has studied the Bistline side of our family background with a lot of help from several cousins—Bistlines in Pennsylvania—who really came up with a lot of information. Fred’s father, Mr. John Aaron Bistline, from Pennsylvania, came to Longwood in answer to an ad from the founding father of Longwood to get a job. He started working with Mr. Niemeyer, who had a general store, and eventually married his daughter, Adeline. That was Fred’s mother. Mr. Frederick Niemeyer had married as Ms. Clouser, who was related to the master carpenter, Clouser, who was hired by Mr. Hink to build the hotel, and most of the houses in Longwood, the chapel in Altamonte [Springs], among others. We now own the Clouser cottage [Josiah Clouser House], and hope to keep it in the family in Longwood. Mr. Bistline, Fred’s father, grew orange trees, had quite a large acreage, and raised squabs, which were specialty birds for eating in hotels. Have you ever heard of squabs?
Youngers
I haven’t ever heard of a squab.
Bistline
Okay. It’s a baby pigeon, is what it really is. That’s what it’s called—a squab. I don’t really know how it’s derived. But they would take care of them by wringing their necks—I guess it was—like we do chickens sometimes, and they would pack them in ice, and ship them north each week by train from Winter Park.
Youngers
Oh!
Bistline
So my husband would get up early hours in the morning and help his father, because they had to pick them and ship them as soon as they did to keep them fresh, and they had to be a certain age, and a certain size. If they got too big, they became very tough, and so people don’t usually eat pigeon. But squabs are different. They’re very tender if you get them at a young age. And it was—that day also would have them in the hotels here that he raised and started his business. Then he got started and shipping them north, and so they would take them in a wagon, pack them in ice box, crates, and take them in the wagon to Winter Park and have them shipped out once a week.
So, another thing about Mr. Bistline—J. A. Bistline, Sr. —is that he started raising prize poultry as a hobby. And he became immersed in communicating with other men doing the same thing all over the world. And he won all sorts of awards, trophies, and prizes. Raised excellent expertise in raising silver-laced Wyandottes. [2] And these are beautiful, big, very regal-looking birds. Usually the roosters—the cocks, as they call them—with the large red cockade on their heads, and stripes along the sides. Feathers which might look lacey. They were in little rows, like on their feathers. I have pictures. And a lot of trophies. And some of these awards and letters from different countries—men soliciting information about Mr. Bistline about how he raised this beautiful poultry, because he won so many prizes and so many trophies and awards. And that’s a funny kind of an occupation to have, but it was a hobby, really, because he had the orange trees and the squab farm. We had over two thousand birds in that squab farm at one time. And so that was quite a job for Mr. Bistline and for Fred. John didn’t help very much there, John was always helping his mother.
So, anyway, Mr. Bistline was also very community-oriented, and he was on the town council in Longwood for at least, I think, 20 years. I’m not sure. He was active in church choir—an elder, a Sunday school teacher. He played trombone in a band. Now, I have a picture of him on the stage at our building—the City League Building, we called it—in Longwood. And he was on the Seminole County School Board for 19 years.
Mrs. Bisltine—or Addy, as she was called—went to Rollins [College], and she played piano. I have a picture of her doing a concert. And she played piano and sang in the choir, and she was a charter member of the Woman’s Club [of Longwood] and officer most every year—some sort of officer. And her mother was the same way, Frances Niemeyer. So it was accepted that when I married Fred and came there with him to live that I become a member of the Woman’s Club immediately, and be active in the church.
Now, it mentions on your list my background and my parents. My father was the newspaperman. And he inspired—he was probably inspired—I mean, possibly by his rich Uncle Vernon. We have a book on him. He was in the Midwest as an editor of a newspaper. But my dad’s mother had died when my dad was born, as was his twin brother. He died also. And since he had another older brother and four sisters, his father sent him as a tiny infant to live with Aunt Fannie. Doesn’t everybody always have an Aunt Fannie? In Pelzer, South Carolina. And so he told me some stories about how she carried him around on a pillow, because he was so tiny, and she nursed him to health and kept him there till he was almost nine. By the age of nine, he was on his own, I was told.
Youngers
Wow.
Bistline
Somehow, he worked on farms and moved about, and received minimum education. But then he met my mother, Hettie Catherine Hollis, in Central—or Clemson—South Carolina. And they married, and he went back to the farm business again, and they lived there on the farm. My mother went to Furman University, and studied business. And when my brother was born, I was ecstatic, because I hadn’t been told before. So when the doctor drove in under his [Ford] Model T, and saw my playing under the giant walnut tree, and he told me he brought me something in a little black bag, and I would get to see it later.
Youngers
That’s a good story.
Bistline
I loved my little brother. And I tried to help my mother to look after him. I remember when we built a house in Miami, after renting for a while, there were beds of scorpions in the palmettos when my dad started the dig the foundation—the coral rock, which is solid down there. He, being from South Carolina—or actually, he was born in Georgia—was not familiar with the conditions, and he was stung many times by the red ants and insects, scorpions and all, and finally decided that the rock was the foundation, because he couldn’t remove it with a pickaxe. When we got the walls up and the roof on, we moved in with the spiders and the snakes as well, and one night, my little brother stepped on a scorpion and it stung him, and being about a year old maybe, he didn’t know what was happening, and he just kept stepping up and down on that scorpion. These bugs—the scorpions—were very large, not tiny. Sometimes, we see them around here in Central Florida, but they’re very small, and very seldom do we see them. But these are large, large ones. Many two to three inches long, and had a lot of venom. His feet were swollen for weeks and we kept putting ice on them and carrying him around for long time, but he finally got well—survived.
So, as we developed a neighborhood there, we were fortunate ultimately in having a very nice home. Improved on our home a great deal, and my dad built additions on, and it became a nice building. We had great childhoods—my brother and I. Sometimes we did have a slight problem, because my father’s brother divorced and brought his four children to live with us at once time. And that was pretty hard. His youngest daughter was three months older than I was and she and I got along pretty well most of the time. But we were more like sisters I think in that we would fight occasionally. We love each other now to death. We have a lot memories, and nice memories. And he finally moved out and took one of the children with him. Anyway, we basically grew up together there for several years down home.
And then I went to summer camp at Florida Southern and that’s when I decided I wanted to go to college. So I’m backtracking a little bit here, because I mentioned it earlier.
Youngers
That’s okay.
Bistline
I entered as a freshman and joined a sorority right away—Alpha Delta Pi—and I enjoyed campus life and dated a lot. But because my uncle divorced and went to Miami with three children to live with my parents, I just decided to work part-time in the college library to help with my college tuition, and I learned a lot with that.
Youngers
Oh, okay.
Bistline
Learned a lot about library books and how to catalog them. I had a little old lady who was probably 90 [years old], who was very, very strict. And she would make me look at those numbers until I was blue in the face, and so tired of trying to type them and keep the numbers straight. And I wasn’t a good typist. I would almost cry. I would get so tired of it. Finally, I got to be on the floor and handle books and see people, because I like people.
Okay. Next question. “How has it changed over the years?” Well, I don’t know where that goes. I have number six there. I’ll just go with what I have in my notes here.
One day, while standing in line at the campus cafeteria, I was chatting with friends, one of whom was talking to her boyfriend—she was the campus homecoming queen. And she introduced us. And he in turn introduced us to his roommate, and that was Fred. He and the roommate lived off-campus working part-time in a science lab, located on the grounds there, while attending school on the GI Bill [Servicemen's Readjustment Act of 1944]. They both were from Longwood. Charlie Stum was his roommate, famously know in Longwood for Stum’s Corner, where they used to live. She was not a very nice woman—his mother. Charlie’s now in Polk County and on the staff at the university there—the college there.
So, I had never heard of Longwood. And we chatted a while, and when my friend and I left, I felt something pulling me on my ribbon sash from behind. And I guess it was tied in the back. Anyway, he was trying to catch up with us, so he pulled on that, and I realized—I looked around and caught him trying to catch up, and looked at him kind of funny, and he thought that was funny. So anyway, we laughed and we stopped to talk and then he asked me out. Our first date was to attend a play in town called Everyman, and dinner later at the town cafeteria. That was a big deal in Lakeland, because that was all they had then.
Now, trying to get to the family here. Your question is, “Does your family have any heirlooms or keepsakes?” When Fred’s mother passed away, I was given permission, along with John’s wife [Mary Bistline], to share some of her jewelry—his mother’s—and porcelain figurines and dishes, photo albums, which I really treasure. And silverware and other stuff. So I was very glad to share and still have most of that. That was some time ago when she died.
Now, number 19—question is, “What kind of local events and gatherings were there?”
Youngers
In Longwood.
Bistline
We were active in the Central Florida Society for Historic Preservation. We were charter members. And Fred was the very first treasurer, and then a trustee. And I was a docent, as well as a secretary and head of several different committees. We were active in our church, also. He was Superintendent of Sunday Schools, and I was a Sunday school teacher. Eventually, we were both ordained as elders. We were active in [Boy] Scouts [of America]. Fred had been a scout as a boy. I was a Cub Scout mother and leader of the Cub pack, also leader of the Brownie Scouts and Cadets, which I think now are called “Intermediates.” I think that’s what they’re called, anyway. Fred was a member of the Indian Guides. He was one of the dads, and he was a timekeeper at swim meets. Our second son got a scholarship from swimming. He followed through. He was very good at swimming. So we were both workers with the booster club at Lyman High School, where Fred went. And I was—for a short time, I was a helper with A[lpha] D[elta] Pi at UCF[University of Central Florida], which at that time was called FTU—Florida Technological University. I was always active in educator’s associations. President one year of Seminole County for Children Under Six—now, that’s not quite right. I’m sure it’s Seminole County Association for Children Under Six, which ultimately became part of the 4C [Community Coordinated Care for Children, Inc.] program now in existence, and I helped start that. I enjoyed that.
Youngers
When did you all start the Central Florida Society for Historic Preservation?
Bistline
In ‘73, I think it was. And the reason for that being that we wanted to move this house that was up for grabs for the fire department to use…
Youngers
The Bradlee-McIntyre House?
Bistline
And so, it was either ‘73, ‘75? No, I think it was ‘73 that we moved the house. I’m not really sure. It was right in there, that we moved the Bradlee-Mac house from Altamonte Springs to Longwood, and we also got the inside house while we were at it. We had to chip in, of course, a lot of our own money, and the move was quite large. Can’t remember his name—the man who did it—but it was quite an effort because, of course, because the Bradlee-Mac being three stories—Queen Anne. It was in terrible, terrible shape. I didn’t think to bring any pictures to show you today, but I do have pictures of how it looked before we moved it.
Youngers
I think I’ve seen some pictures of it.
Bistline
Okay.
Youngers
And it was in very bad shape.
Bistline
There was a man who lived in there, Bill Orr—he’s an artist. And I have pictures here where he had his—I don’t know if it’s a kerosene stove or not—but he had a pot sitting on it. Anyway, there were some pictures on the wall of the Beatles, or something like that. And you don’t really recognize or realize that’s the Bradlee-Mac house the way it looks now. You don’t realize until you find a few doorways and windows and things that you recognize. It comes to you that that’s the way it looked when it was going down. And after the move, we had to have power lines removed, or taken down. And a lot of trees had to be cut back, and a lot of hours spent on the road trying to move it. And there was just a small group of us, but we got it done. Of course, we were in the red for a lot of years afterwards, but we finally got ourselves in black.
Fred was a member of the Board of the [Florida] Farm Bureau for over 40 years, because he’s into citrus. And he was with Minute Maid, and they later became connected to Coca-Cola—part of Coca-Cola. And he had been, more recently, traveling a lot and helping out Coca-Cola to look for properties suitable for orange trees. We went to China twice. We went to Africa a couple of times. And I got to go with him to some countries, because Coca-Cola was interested not only the cocoa part of it, but they were also at that time selling coffee. And so I went to Jamaica with him a time or two, and Mexico several times. So I got to travel too some in between raising children.
Youngers
Now was Minute Maid—was it located in Longwood?
Bistline
No. It was actually Orlando. It was a place called Fairvilla, which is still there. And he had an office there for a while, and then they moved to Plymouth—oh, I think they really were Plymouth first. I think that’s backwards. I think they were Plymouth first, and they had a packing plant over there and everything. And that was a little drive, but it was only 20 minutes then.
Youngers
Right.
Bistline
Now it takes at least half hour or more.
Youngers
So it’s really a commute.
Bistline
Yeah. And he worked over there for a lot of years, and then they moved to Fairvilla and then opened more plants and opened more, not necessarily more packing houses, but more plants. Concentrate was coming in then. That was real important then. And he helped to start that, had to help get the vats in and all that that they required for that.
Youngers
Mm-hmm.
Bistline
So, he was instrumental in the beginning of orange juice as we see it now, and concentrate, and then since then, fresh orange juice. It was almost, at that time, impossible to find. Then he became a kind of troubleshooter and consultant.
Then I was president of the Woman’s Club for a couple of years, and instrumental in setting up the old-timer’s reunion once a year. This was a get-together of all the old-timers in Longwood, which we all loved. That was discontinued when the Woman’s Club disbanded. It was no feather in my cap that we had to give up, but we had dwindling numbers—membership—and most of the ladies were not able to drive or get out without help. And we’re getting up in years. We were just to the point where we couldn’t seem to get younger people in. They were busy working. We finally disbanded and we gave the building to the historic group in Longwood—Central Florida Society for Historic Preservation—with the provision that the building would eventually become a museum. It hasn’t happened yet.
Youngers
And is that the Bradlee-Mac House?
Bistline
No. It’s the City League Building. And it was the former Woman’s Club building, and we gave it away. Kind of regret that, sort of. But if we had tried to sell it, we didn’t know how we would divide the money, or what we would do. Where it would go. And there were so few members left that we didn’t seem to think that seemed fair. So I suggested we give it to the historic society, which we did, but it was with the provision that it become a museum. Now, we’re putting some things in there. We have a museum committee, of which I am a member and John is the president—my brother-in-law. We’re trying to get a museum set up and started. We’ve got some bulletin boards up and things, but they’re renting the building out now to society, because they did a whole lot of renovations. It was in pretty bad shape. So they spent a lot of money on it. So now they’re trying to make up that money that they spent by having people come in for weddings, and such as that. Bar-mitzvahs, other things. They do raise money, anyway.
So right now, we’re not having much luck on getting—we don’t want to really put anything in there of any value, museum-wise, anyway. So we’re collecting a few things, but we’re basically just trying to do the bookwork that goes with it, and collect some information on people who helped start Longwood. And we’re putting together a little book, we’re calling it Footprints. And we’re trying to get some information together. And some, you might say—the basics, just right now, and hopefully we’ll someday have a museum in Longwood. I don’t know if it’ll happen before I’m gone, but we’re trying.
Fred and I have also been active in the Seminole County Historic[al] Society—charter members there also. And I’ve been Recording Secretary at one time as well as Chairman of the Student Tours. Now, that goes with the society—the local group, the tours. CFSHP, which is Central Florida Society for Historic Preservation. I initiated tours—student tours—by visiting approximately 55 schools in the county, one by one, and introducing the history of the Longwood area for them, and setting up field trips by bus, through a grant. We had to work hard to get the grant. We’ve had as many as four days a week sometimes touring students through the town and/or the Bradlee-McIntyre House museum. It was I who introduced John and Mary [Bistline]—Fred’s brother—to the local group after he retired from New York, and they moved back to Florida and they became very active. I was raising four kids and teaching school, so I became less active for a while, and I’m again more active now since I retired from teachers. This getting too long?
Youngers
Nope.
Bistline
I’m proud to say that—now, number 21, you asked how historical events affected your family—community. Proud to say that we in Longwood were included in the Bicentennial Parade. The governors came through Florida in 1976. And I have some snapshots of a similar celebration in—I’m not sure if it was 1880—but Ulysses [S.] Grant came to visit, just for a day, in Longwood. His name is on the book at the hotel. We’re also proud of the Clouser heritage, hence the Niemeyers, and then the Bistlines, and pioneering the oldest city in Seminole County. The Clouser House has been acknowledged with a small plaque, and we had a little celebration at the City Hall, then Mayor Paul Lovestrand and other dignitaries—and our now-grown children, our four children have greater respect than when they were young, and appreciate the history of Longwood now. We put out a book, so we have some recognition, when we have our book on. And that’s our family on the front cover, the Niemeyers.
Number 23 is, “Is there anything you’d like to discuss?” I just going to say—I’ve always wanted to have my own private kindergarten, so my husband agreed after some rentals we had were vacated, and he was tired of being a landlord anyway. So with some renovations to three small homes, we opened a school. We connected them all together, three little houses in a row, and we called it Oak Tree [Pre]School, because we have what is probably the largest tree, the live oak, anyway, in Seminole County.
Youngers
Oh!
Bistline
It’s supposed to be between 400 and 500 years old, according to a forester who came out in ‘88, and I’m trying to have that checked out now, because it’s been so long, I think it may have grown a little, and there was an article in the newspaper in The Orlando Sentinel, fairly recently, about a large live oak in Lake County, and according to the writer, there’s nobody in Seminole County who pushed through like they did there in the town council who worked on getting this tree recognized with some kind, you know…
Youngers
Oh, to protect it. Yes, mm-hmm.
Bistline
I called the writer—The Sentinel writer—to ask him and he talked with me and suggested names, one of which is a lady who works for the forestry service. And she’ll come out and measure for me which is the other one did, when I had this—but I had gotten the children out there and talked about the tree, and then they helped him measure. And they enjoyed that and they had a little—they gave me a plaque. And around that time—it must have been already. So I want to bring this back to attention in our little town of Longwood, and because it’s in our backyard. It’s not something you just invite the whole town to, but I do want them to know that they can come and see it, and be ready to mention it to anybody who’s interested in trees. And so I’m going to look forward to her coming. She’s coming after Christmas sometime to measure, and she said, by the way it sounds—with my measurements that I gave her—it sounds like it is one of the largest oak trees in the state.
Youngers
Wow.
Bistline
At least in the county, anyway. So we hope to have that recognized soon. And anyway, since I’ve been teaching in Seminole County for about eight or 10 years in public school at that time, I was disenchanted with all the paperwork, so I enjoyed revising the joining of these houses into one building, and making up the playground, etcetera. And I had that school for 11 years, we call it the Oak Tree Preschool. Well, actually, it came to be kindergarten. That’s my love, that’s my Early Childhood degree. But I had it for 11 years, but I gave it up after that, because even though I loved it very much, nobody wanted to pay tuition. They wanted to bring the children, but they didn’t want to pay. So it was just like—they thought it should be free, and I just let it go too long. I am a dedicated teacher, but I’m not a businessperson. So, I really let it go, and there were a lot of disappointed parents that we put a lot of money into, and we finally had to give up on that.
Now, I was just wondering—when you ask if there’s anything else I would like to discuss, I realize I must not forget to mention our children, of which I am very proud. Walter Bistline, Jr. was born September 30, 1950, in Lakeland, and he’s now an attorney with several large law firms. But he’s been semi-retired and he was in New York City, where he got his law degree, and he went with White & Case. Then he moved to Dallas[,Texas], and opened and branch there, and later he went to Houston[,Texas], and opened a branch there, and now they live in Richmond, Indiana, and that’s because he found it on the computer—they have a photography studio there like, that he can go to there, because that’s his hobby. And so he’s on the faculty teaching photography and he judges shows, and they just came back from Turkey. Brought me this back from Turkey.
Youngers
Oh, very nice, yes.
Bistline
Did you know that tulips were grown originally in Turkey?
Youngers
I did not know that.
Bistline
All of us all think of Amsterdam[, the Netherlands] as the base for tulips.
Youngers
Very pretty.
Bistline
He and his wife bought that for me—a pendant with the tulip on it. And they’ve travelled, not only just to Turkey. They took a group of students there, and they stayed in England this time three months, but they were only in Turkey for a couple of weeks. But they do take students, say, a group like 25 students and sponsor them included. Well, they get sponsors, but they get help. This time, they got a flat to stay in in England—that was last summer. He’s travelled a lot. He’s been to China, he’s been around quite a lot in different places. Travels a lot. She’s also a lawyer.
And then Frances [Bistline], our daughter, was born June 23, ‘53 in Sanford. And she has become an environmentalist and a magazine writer, and lately she’s been teaching school. She met Paul—her husband, Paul Stephen—at a church summer trip and went to Florida State University, lived in a co-op dorm, and then they married after graduation and moved to Naples[, Florida]. They lived there about 20 years. He’s a Clearwater guy, and he loves the water, so they did a lot of surfing, fishing, boating. You name it. And now they have moved to California, which I’m very sorry that they’ve done, but he’s looking for a new job, so they went out there.
Youngers
Oh, wow. That’s far away.
Bistline
Our next one was John Leland [Bistline], named after my husband’s brother and my brother. He’s a doctor of psychology, and he’s now working with insurance company. His wife is very, very sickly, so he has to stay home. Has his office there. He wrote a book. He met Kathy [Bistline] at Richmond University, at which time she was very, very into sports, and very strong. But she’s become ill with arthritis really bad now. They’re married in Virginia. Living there now. He’s really looking after Kathy himself. He’s her caregiver.
Youngers
And when was he born?
Bistline
He was born in 1955 in Sanford. And at that time—I have a picture of that old house that was the hospital in Sanford where they were born, he and Francie, and of course, it’s terrible, in bad shape. And when he was born, I had apparently just come out of a sleep afterwards, and they were going to bring him in, and they said they’d bring the babies in a few minutes. And all of a sudden, this rumble-rumble-rumble sound. And I said, “What in the world happened? My bed’s shaking.” And she said, “Oh, that’s just the elevator.”
Youngers
Oh, my goodness. [laughs]
Bistline
And it turned out my bed was near the elevator shaft. Whenever anybody went up or down on the elevator, it made my bed shake.
Youngers
Oh, I bet you couldn’t wait to get home.
Bistline
That’s exactly right. And then they brought him in and he was nine pounds and a half ounce and since you have a football player, I said, “That’s not mine.” Because Walter was only seven pounds and four and three quarters ounces, but they said, “Yes, this is yours.” So he’s a handsome young man and a big guy. He played football at Lyman, and as I say, they’re living there now. He’s in Richmond, Virginia, and Walter’s in Richmond, Indiana. Strange consequence.
Jane [Bistline], our baby, was born in ‘65, December 4, 1965. And she went to Florida Southern College, where we went. And she was homecoming queen in high school. She’s a fitness instructor at the YMCA [Young Men’s Christian Association] now, and she does personal fitness in the home. She married Keith Reardon and they have three children. Two are twin boys—Keegan and Kamden. They’re now six, and Khloe is age nine. They all start with K’s. All of my four children attended Lyman High School, just as their dad had. And I have five grandchildren altogether. I lost Fred about a year ago, but I stayed busy and I have an active life. I meant to mention my granddaughters, Katie and Addie, now in their twenties. They don’t have any children yet.
And one other little addition, I forgot to explain my teaching job sort of. I didn’t really go into that very much. But I did mention the old Lyman, when I had the base…
Youngers
Basement classroom?
Bistline
Yes. Thank you. [laughs] That was first through 12th grades, but then they started building new schools, so I went home and waited. I was inclined—I kept taking leaves to have family, and I taught one year at the old Lake Mary Elementary, which is also now gone. It was about 1957, I think it was. Then I taught at Altamonte Elementary for a lot of years—I figured, around 1966, but I’m not going to be able to remember it for sure—until I opened my private school in 1985. And had that for 11 years, and then I decided to retire. I don’t think I taught after that. I may have gone back to public school. I don’t remember.
But anyway, I now serve on the Seminole County Historic Commission, and the Board of the Seminole County Historic Society, which I enjoy. And I’m interested in history, even though I hated it when I was in high school. That’s it.
Youngers
Is that all you have?
Bistline
That’s all I have.
Youngers
Alright, well thank you so much, Mrs. Bistline.
Bistline
Thank you for being patient with me.
Youngers
Absolutely.
Bistline
I was writing things and realizing how long I was writing and how much I was writing. And I thought, This is terrible. [laughs]
Youngers
Oh, it’s fine.
Morris
This is an interview with John [Louis] Salsbury. This interview is being conducted on the 9th of September, 2011, at the Museum of Seminole County History. The interviewer is Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Mr. Salsbury, could you tell us your name?
Salsbury
Yes. I would like to do this as a means of preservation of my family history, and I hope I can do a good job. Anyway, I’d like to start with the year of 1893, when my great-grandparents and my grandfather moved here from Portsmouth, Ohio, by train. My great-grandfather was a master carpenter, and he lived here—the family lived here—on the corner of [West] Ninth Street and [South] Park Avenue—the southwest corner—for about two years. My grandfather [Louis Salsbury] was 19 years old, and he was employed as a railroad telegrapher at the Sanford Railroad Station on the west end of Ninth Street. In 1895, which was the year they moved away, my grandfather participated in a professional bicycle race—a 25-mile race that began in Downtown Orlando, when Orange Avenue was a dirt road, and ended there. My grandfather won the race.
And after that they moved to Port Tampa, where my great-grandfather became a building contractor and was commissioned by Henry [B.] Plant to build a passenger terminal at the end of the railroad line there in Port Tampa, near Tampa. And steamships—the Mascotte and the Olivette—transported passengers from South America and Cuba to the United States. And they ported—they landed there at the docks. And the terminal building that my great-grandfather built was in use up until that passenger line ceased to operate, but the building remained to 1955.
Also, just a year or two before the building was commenced, that terminal, Teddy [Theodore] Roosevelt, his Rough Riders [1st U.S. Volunteer Calvary] and officers, were among the soldiers and troops that were encamped in the Port Tampa area en route to the Spanish-American War. Teddy Roosevelt and his officers were hosted and remained in my doctor’s—in the Salsbury family doctor’s—home, which was located about a block from my grandparents’ home, and where my great-grandfather built. My grandfather joined the Army and participated in the Spanish-American War, and following that war, my great-grandfather was commissioned to also build a very famous wooden hotel in Bartow-Clearwater area, over near Clearwater. It’s still in use. It’s the Belleview Biltmore Resort. It’s a large wooden hotel, and it’s still in use today.
Okay, after that, my grandfather married—and he was a telegrapher—and on the west coast at Palm Harbor, Florida, near the Gulf [of Mexico], and between Clearwater and Tarpon Springs, he married Rose Tinny—Rosalind Tinny. And my father [John Wright Salsbury, Jr.] was born in Port Tampa. My great-grandfather had built three homes there, and after my father graduated from high school in the year 1926, he found this moonshiner’s shoe. It was uncovered by a fire that had burnt some palmettos. My father found that—and they determined it belonged to the moonshiner. His name was Herndon, who was killed by the troops when he tried to steal corn from the soldiers encamped there for the Spanish-American War. Well, anyway, the left shoe that I have in my possession is in the Smithsonian Institution, and this right shoe I still retain.[1]
Okay, in 1914, just before this—at the age of 12—my father and his sister, Mary, at age of five, flew on the world’s first passenger, scheduled passenger airline from St. Petersburg to Tampa. As a member of the Florida Aviation Historical Society, I’ve been through a lot of this and photographed a lot. I’m their photographer. Well, anyway, in 1914, my father and my aunt flew with Tony Janus, or the line pilot, from St. Petersburg to Tampa. This airline was in operation for three months and flew 1,205 passengers, and is actually on record as being the world’s first scheduled airline.
My dad moved to—my dad and my mother—I was born in 1931 in Tampa, and my father and mother separated in ’41, and in 1941 we moved to Sanford and have resided in Sanford since. At least I have. My father was a railroad engineer with the Atlantic Coast Line [Railroad]. He had roomed with Cara Stenstrom, the mother of Douglas and Julian and Frank and Herb and Ruth Stenstrom—my stepbrothers and sister. Well, that year, or year around that time, the early 1940s, I recall having met Red Barber, the famous sports announcer’s father, there on the front porch. Okay, Red Barber, who actually went to school in Sanford and graduated from Sanford High School, went on to become the most famous sports announcer in baseball, football.
All right. I went into the Air Force in 1949, upon graduating from the Seminole High School. I was a radar operator, and while in the service, I served in Alaska, Newfoundland, Iceland, and West Germany. But some of the highlights of my service, while I was—after I returned from Alaska in 1951, I was able—stationed in Norton Air Force Base in the Air Defense Control Center there. I was able to see many movie stars: Marilyn Monroe, Lucille Ball, Lana Turner, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, Gregory Peck. I really enjoyed my time there at Norton, because I met all these people, and not only that, I made sure that I worked within the Air Control Center—gave me a ride, or I flew as the co-pilot in a twin-engine bomber trainer called a T-11. And while we were in operations, he was filing his flight plan—I was standing next to a tall gentleman at the counter, where he was filing a flight plan, and on this parachute he had draped over his shoulder was the word “Yeager. So I actually got a chance to see the famous Chuck Yeager, who broke the speed, the sound barrier. And outside was an experimental jet bomber, XB-43,—I remember they called it—and he was probably flying that at the time.
Anyway, after we took off in this T-11, the major took control of the aircraft ‘til we went over Edward’s restricted area, or Edwards Air Force Base. And then he showed me how to use the radio compass, and I honed it in on Palmdale, where the space shuttles were built. Well, anyway, I took control, and he let me fly the T-11 up over L.A.—Los Angeles—Laguna Beach, Long Beach, all along the coast. And then, when he said we had to go back, he asked me if I thought I could find my way back, and I said, “I believe so.” So I honed in on the mountains there—San Bernardino right there at Norton—and headed back to Norton. And that was one of the most memorable flights I’ve ever taken. I really enjoyed that. All right, uh, upon—you may pause it just for a second.
Morris
Good to go, sir.
Salsbury
Okie doke. Another thing I’d like to comment on about an experience I had while in the Air Force, stationed in Iceland, President [Richard M.] Nixon stopped over there on the way to Russia, in Keflavík Air Field [Naval Air Station (NAS) Keflavík] in Iceland, and being in radar, I knew about it. So I was down there with my camera—my movie camera—and was able to get some shots of Admiral [Hyman G.] Rickover as he walked out of the plane—walked by. Nixon didn’t get out of the plane, nor did his wife [Pat Nixon].
Okay, then, when stationed—before my retirement in 1969, I was stationed at Homestead Air [Reserve] Base in South Florida, in radar again. I was electronic warfare NCOIC [Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge], and President Nixon was inaugurated and flew right into Homestead AFB [Homestead ARB] the next day, and I took my son and my daughter over to see him. Well, lo and behold, we were only, right at the front of the fence there at the tarmac there at Homestead, and the President walked directly to us and shook our hands, and it appeared on the front page of The Miami Herald the next morning. So I had a—we had a wonderful experience of meeting Richard Nixon and shaking hands with him. And then I retired shortly after Neil Armstrong put foot on the moon.
Salsbury
And I came—we moved back to Sanford, and bought a new home here in Sanford, and I became employed as a postal clerk over in Orlando for one year in the sectional center, and then transferred to Sanford, where for 16 years I was a letter-carrier. Riding a bicycle and a jeep, carrying mail in Sanford.
Well, while in Sanford as a letter-carrier, I had been taking pictures of the first space shuttle launch from Titusville and the ones following that, and I was taking my film to Eckerd’s drugstore to have it processed. Through a questionnaire that I filled out, the Eckerd’s marketing management and headquarters in Clearwater called me one day. They asked if I would appear in a TV—television commercial for them. And from that, I was titled “The Shuttle Photographer,” and Eckerd’s produced and ran for a year and a half a commercial introducing their one-hour photo service. That helped me, in a way, get my foot in the door as becoming a press photographer at [John F.] Kennedy Space Center, to shoot the space shuttle launches up close. So from the end of ’91, I was credited as a press photographer with The Sanford Herald editor sponsoring me. And throughout the shuttle program, I served as a press photographer at the Space Center, covering the 30-year shuttle program.
Just recently, in July—in July the 21st—the [Space] Shuttle Atlantis landed, and I was there on the end of the runway, and I captured the landing and the tow back of the space shuttle for the last time of Atlantis. Atlantis just happens to be a particular launch vehicle that I took in 1994, November the 3rd, that turned out to be my most successful space shuttle photograph. It hangs in the NASA [National Aeronautics and Space Administration] Media [Resource] Center. A 30 x 40. It hangs in the Viera VA [Veterans Affairs] Hospital entrance. It hangs in museums, and it’s been purchased by a number of people over the years. So the STS-66 launch turned out to be my most successful space shuttle picture.
And now that the shuttle program has ended, I devote my future photography Endeavors towards shooting wildlife. And here in Lake Mary—close to Sanford—I have some blinds set up, and I have wood duck nesting boxes, and I have been very successful in photographing Florida birds here, and will continue doing so. Thank you, Joe.
Morris
Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Salsbury. I have a few more questions if that is okay.
Salsbury
Fire away.
Morris
Okay, Mr. Salsbury. Earlier you mentioned about the shoe that your family member had found previously?
Salsbury
Right. That was my father.
Morris
Could you describe that? Yes, your father, sir. Could you tell—could you describe that for us? And then tell us what purpose that shoe was being used for?
Salsbury
Well, sure. I’d be glad to.
Morris
Thank you, sir.
Salsbury
Joe, this shoe that I’m showing you has a tin foundation, or a base, to it, and nailed to the bottom of this piece of tin are two wooden replicas of cows’ hooves, out of wood, carved by this moonshiner. And what the moonshiner would do—he—he was able to attach this to his shoes and conceal his tracks as he went to and from his still, which was located near my family home in Port Tampa, Florida, Hillsborough County. And a fire had really exposed this to my father. It was wrapped—the shoes, the pair of shoes—were wrapped up in a newspaper and was charred, but was exposed when the fire burnt these palmettos along the roadway, which is now in Trask Avenue in Tampa, Florida. T-R-A-S-K. Anyway, when my father opened the package up, here was this pair of overshoes used by moonshiner by the name of Herndon in Port Tampa, to go to and from his still. This moonshiner was later shot to death when he attempted to steal grain—sacks of grain—from the soldiers camped in the area, or en route to the Spanish-American War from Port Tampa to Cuba, where they embarked from Port Tampa. They determined—they found out they were having sacks of grain stolen from them, or missing, so they set up a trap. And actually they caught the guy, and they shot him. But apparently he wasn’t wearing these shoes, and he had these hidden just to go to and from his still. And that’s how come I ended up—the right shoe I have, and I’m showing you at this time. The left shoe, in 1926, was given to the Smithsonian Institution and appeared in The St. Louis [Post-]Dispatch with a picture of it telling that it’s in the museum. I have been unable to locate that copy of The St. Louis Dispatch that I had. I don’t know what happened to it. But anyway, I do know that one shoe was in the Smithsonian Institution.
Morris
Well, thank you. That’s a very interesting piece you have there, sir.
Salsbury
Thank you.
Morris
Another question I have is—you said 1941[2] you moved to Sanford?
Salsbury
1941.[3]
Morris
Who did you move with, sir?
Salsbury
My father, my sister, Rosemary [Salsbury], and I. The three of us.
Morris
Okay, sir. And your sister, is she currently living in Sanford, or...
Salsbury
No, she lives on the west coast, over near Tarpon Springs.
Morris
Okay, sir. And you said, you were describing earlier your experiences working as a press photographer for The Sanford Herald.
Salsbury
Right.
Morris
Do you have any more experiences that you’d like to share about that, any kind of experiences working at the—as opposed to just taking photographs…
Salsbury
The only experiences I have—and one is very interesting ‘cause it deals with Seminole County. As a press photographer, I was given quite a lot of extra photo possibilities. There was a launch of [Space Shuttle] Endeavor—and I don’t recall just what mission it was at the time—but when I boarded the bus to go with an escort to go there to photograph it with my telescope, she handed out a sheet of paper that listed the dignitaries—the important events that was gonna be there at this event site that I had wanted to shoot from. One of them was Alan Shepard, who was the first American astronaut to go into space. All right. She told—I asked her if she’d point him out to me or help me find him. I wanted to get a picture of him. She said, “I could do better than that. I could have your picture taken with him.” So she did that, and they used my camera. And I sent the photo to Houston[, Texas]—to him—and he autographed it and returned it to me, and in turn I gave—I left one with him.
But I told him in the letter something very interesting that I found out. My classmate in 1949, Bettye Ball [Deadman] from Lake Mary, lived a short distance from Alan Shepard’s grandparents. Alan Shepard used to spend his summer vacations from Connecticut or New Hampshire in Lake Mary. He spent him out there, in his vacations, and his grandparents. One day he was missing, and they couldn’t find him. He was found on the Ball—Bettye, my classmate’s family’s—dining room table eating a banana. And so I told him about this in the letter, and he got a charge out of it.
But anyway, my stepbrother, Doug Strenstrom—Douglas Stenstrom—is the one that told me first that Alan Shepard had a connection with Lake Mary and Seminole County. And then, when I found that out, I was talking to Bettye Ball and she told me about the banana incident. And so, it so happens that Alan Shepard enjoyed a lot of his school summers, if not most of them, right here in Lake Mary, Seminole County. So, anyway, I got a chance to meet him.
Not only that—another thing I want to tell you, an interesting thing happened. I wasn’t a press photographer at the time but I had an eight-inch telescope, and I took this with me to shoot from Titusville the first launch of the space shuttle—STS-1 [Space Shuttle] Columbia. And the picture I took, turned out I shot into the sun, but I got a fairly good picture. For a color picture, it turned out black and white. But anyway, I got a good picture. Well, The Orlando Sentinel team saw me, and they took a picture of me with my nephew, Troy Hickson, from Lake Mary, as we were photographing with my telescope. And this was published and in The Sentinel.
Well, there was a time when I wasn’t—later on, when I wasn’t a press photographer, but I was shooting from the NASA Causeway with my telescope, and the gentleman told me I needed press credentials to get up close and get better pictures. So little wheels started turning in my head as to how I could bring this about. First thing I thought about doing was calling this photographer that had photographed me at the first launch over in Titusville at The Sentinel in Orlando. So I called, and they couldn’t use me in Orlando on the team, but he suggested something that really did it for me. And he suggested that I get a hold of the public affairs people at NASA, at Kennedy, and request a freelance pass—a pass as a freelance photographer. Well, I did this, and that allowed me to start getting passes to put my camera up remotely. I’d put my camera out right next to the shuttle, and using another man’s trigger at first—and finally I knew how to do it and I finally bought the equipment and did it on my own. But anyway, the sound after the solid rockets are fired triggers your camera, and you’re nowhere near it. You’re sitting there anchored down, but it’s up close to it. So that’s how I got my best pictures was in that manner.
Okay, after that first launch on the 12th of April of 1981, there was an air show. It went to Sanford Airport. And I took my son out there, and I had my camera along to shoot the show. And a friend of mine who had a shoe store in Sanford, Donald Knight—well known in Sanford—and he was a flight instructor and a pilot, and he was at front of operations prepping a Cessna for flight. And I walked up and commenced talking to him this day. This is after the launch of the shuttle. And he said, “Do you know whose plane that is next to me?” And I said, “No.” He said, “That’s Neil Armstrong.” I waited until Neil Armstrong came out and his family came out of the operations and got in their plane, and took pictures of this, and got some good pictures of Neil Armstrong. He left there and nobody, of all these people there—the thousands of people at the air show—knew he was there, I think. He taxied out and took off before the air show. So I got pictures of Neil Armstrong.
Another incident, having been with press credentials and having put my remote cameras out for the launch of John Glenn—STS-95—I was able to get a picture and he posed for me. And this was Buzz Aldrin, who stepped on the moon. And I also got pictures of several of the other astronauts, the one in STS-13—I mean not STS-13—the Apollo 13. And Gordon Cooper.
Now, not only that, over the years, I was able to meet and become friends with different astronauts, but one of the highlights of my time over there too took place when I was working part-time at [Walt] Disney World, [Disney-]MGM Studios.[4] I purchased a little lapel pin of Buzz Lightyear. Well, I had a taken a nice shot of the STS-61 launch of [Space Shuttle] Endeavor, that Story Musgrave was mission specialist of, and did a spacewalk to repair the Hubble [Space] Telescope. Well, my pictures came out so good. I made Christmas cards out of them, put “Merry Christmas,” “Happy New Year,” and all that on them, and I sent them to each one of the crew members in Houston, so when they landed, they would get Christmas card greetings at their launch. Well, I got responses from Kathy Thornton and different ones with autographed pictures of all of them and all that.
But six months later, I get a telephone call from Story Musgrave—Dr. Story Musgrave—who did the spacewalk repair on the Hubble telescope and was on the mission. He commented to me, he said, “That’s the best night launch picture I’ve seen. Would you make transparencies for me so I can use them in my lectures?” And he called me back later and asked me how much it was and all that. He wanted to pay for it. I didn’t want him to pay for it, but he sent me a check and paid for it. I asked him, I said, “Story, would you take a little Buzz Lightyear pin in space for me in your next mission coming up in September?” Or November. And that was STS-80. He called me back later and said, “Send it on.” He had room. He could take it. So Story Musgrave took a little Buzz Lightyear pin for me on the STS-80 mission of Columbia that ended up being the longest space shuttle mission flown, 17 days. When they returned, it took me two years to get it back. But I got it back, and it was still packaged and in the plastic, and it was accompanied by a certificate of authentication signed by Story Musgrave, telling that “this space,”—oh, “this lapel pin of Buzz Lightyear,”—or something to this effect—“was carried aboard Columbia for John Salsbury,” and so on. So I got this wonderful document to see that by.
So that kind of sums up some of the most important things that I remember as highlights doing my space shuttle photography over 30 years. I was able to meet a lot of the good ones, and one of them was Tom Jones, and I’m still in touch with him. Most, many of these pictures I have, like the one of STS-96—it shows shooting into the rising sun and everything, Rick Husband, who was killed when the Columbia exploded, he was the pilot of that one. And I’ve got a beautiful picture of that, autographed by the pilot, Kent Romminger. So, a lot of my pictures, even the one with John Glenn’s launch, turned out. I sent it to him. He autographed it for me. I’ve got the picture of John Glenn going up autographed. I’ve got all these autographs on my pictures over there. And my room looks like a museum itself.
Morris
Sir, that’s impressive.
Salsbury
Thank you. But that’s about it, in a nutshell, I think.
Morris
Well, sir, could you tell me a little bit about your family?
Salsbury
Well, I think I told you, let me, my great-grandfather’s name was John Wright Salsbury I. He was married to Addie—A-D-D-I-E—Burke Salsbury, and they moved here with their son, my grandfather—later grandfather—Louis Salsbury, to Sanford in 1893, as I mentioned earlier. My dad moved up here upon my mother and father’s separation in 1941. We moved to Sanford from Port Tampa, and that’s when I joined the Stenstrom-Salsbury family, or we were joined, and of course, Douglas and Julian are well-documented in their contributions here in Seminole County. And Frank, he married Henry Took—Harry [Patricia] Took—excuse me, who was a millionaire that owned a lot of groves. And he took care of the groves, my stepbrother did, Frankie.
And then Herb was a realtor. He was the other stepbrother, and Herb passed away a young man due to lung cancer. But he married Carolyn Patrick, and the Patricks own a packing—a fruit business of citrus and citrus-packing groves and so forth.
And my stepsister, Ruth, she married a young man that was—became a—he was an umpire in baseball—professional games, but then later became a—they moved to Cocoa Beach and he was on the City Council and he was a postmaster over there at Cocoa Beach, about the time when the Apollo program was going on. And Ruth—no, Julian, was a sports announcer and writer for [The Sanford Herald], he announced for Red WTRR Sanford, a radio station, and he wrote for the columns for The Sanford Herald. And he wrote a lot of them about “Way Back Then”—they titled it—and I have copies of those. He had a wonderful memory and recall of sports. He mentioned—he brought a light that Buddy Lake from Lake Monroe, in Sanford—and Lake Mary, in the Sanford area—a ball player, ended up in the hall of fame from Julian’s efforts. He found out that Buddy had led hitting and pitching at one time, and this was something that hadn’t been done before. This was back when he played for Florida State League. And Julian also brought out the fact that Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier here in Sanford at the Sanford ballpark when he was playing for the [Brooklyn] Dodgers.
Julian and I—well, Julian became an official in the Southern Baptist brotherhood out in California, in Bakersfield, and I was stationed at Norton Air Force Base in the ‘50s. He and I attended a professional spring training ballgame between the Cincinnati Reds and another team I don’t recall. And Julian and I were sitting on the third base bleacher line there in the stands, and I was sitting maybe ten feet away from a gentleman with a cigar in his mouth. And Julian asked me if I knew who that was. He said, “That’s Branch Rickey.” So Branch Rickey is one of the two people that Red Barber dedicated his book, Walking in the Spirit, to. A great book. It’s in the museum in Sanford. It was given to Julian by Douglas. Anyway, Red Barber mentions—no, Julian wrote an article about Red Barber that I have as well too, and it was published in the Sanford paper, telling about Red Barber’s ball playing and his living here in Sanford. So, I can’t think right offhand of a lot of the highlights that Julian brought out. But anyway, they’re well-documented and covered in articles he wrote for the paper while he was there.
Oh, another thing, myself and my younger stepbrother, Frank, and my classmates, John Keeling and Richard McNab—Keeling just passed away and he was a retired colonel in the Army. Worked in the Pentagon. And Richard McNab—retired colonel—Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, who flew B-47 reconnaissance aircraft. He’s living in Ocean Springs right now. And we all were on the American Legion baseball team in 1948. On March the 16th of 1948, Babe Ruth came to Sanford. Julian was the announcer, the master of ceremonies. Carl Hubble was there, John Krider, and Julian, and the mayor, Mayor Williams. Julian introduce a number of the people there, but the mayor actually introduced Babe Ruth. And I was there, and my other members played on the American Legion we had at the time. Babe Ruth signed baseballs for all of us, and we were given these baseballs signed by Babe Ruth. Well, anyway, the wonderful thing happened was that Julian and all of the commentary and all the narration or the talking that was done, even Babe Ruth’s voice, was recorded on a recorder—on a platter, a record, by someone. Well, Julian, my stepbrother, ended up having a copy of that, and he found it before passing away. And we transferred that over to an audio tape, from there to a VHS tape, and now I have it on DVD. We have Babe Ruth’s actual voice, which was eight months to the day before he died, when he was here in Sanford and honored in Sanford. So that about covers everything, Joe.
Morris
How about your immediate family?
Salsbury
Oh, I’m sorry. I have two children. My wife was from Lake Mary. Her name was Yvonne Eubanks, and she passed away five years ago today, on September 9, 2006, here in Sanford Hospital. She had diabetes and her kidneys gave out on her.
We have two children. My son is a lieutenant in the fire department, Lake Mary, and my daughter has moved to Tennessee. She was married to Bill Von Herbulis and had a daughter then. And her daughter, Jessica [Frana], well, anyway, later married. But before that my daughter remarried Steve Frana. His father’s friend owned Tube Tech. It’s a stainless steel plant here in Sanford. And there’s a connection. My son-in-law, Steve, actually made all the space shuttle hinges for their payload doors right here in Sanford. So it goes back to the space program.
But anyway, Steve’s father’s passed on now, but my daughter and Jessica—her daughter by her first husband—they all moved to Tennessee, and have a 45-acre farm up in Tennessee, real nice farm. And Steve had already had four children, two boys and two girls. So then—well, anyway, the total grandchildren I have now are nine, seven by my daughter and two by my son, and I have four great-grandchildren up in Tennessee. And, well, I’m living alone now. And in my latter years, I’m trying to get my family history together, and what we’re doing today, Joe, will help out very much.
Morris
Well, we definitely appreciate it, sir.
Salsbury
Thank you.
Morris
Just one final question, just ‘cause we’re greedy for history.
Salsbury
Did I mention my daughter’s name?
Morris
Ah, just in case, repeat, sir.
Salsbury
I don’t think I did. My son’s name was Terrence Wade Salsbury. He’s the Lieutenant in the Lake Mary fire department. My daughter’s name is Gale—G-A-L-E, not G-A-I-L, but G-A-L-E—Salsbury Frana—F-R-A-N-A. And, oh, one thing I failed to mention is very important. My daughter’ s first child, Jessica, she’s graduated from Wake Forest [University] and from University of Tennessee. She married a Pete Exline, who was a captain in the U.S. Army. Pete was a graduate of [The United States Military Academy at] West Point. His home was Jacksonville. Pete was sent to Iraq for a year, and upon returning from Iraq, he was put in the university, or Georgia Tech [Georgia Institute of Technology], for nuclear physics training, schooling. And from there and today, he has already started. He is an instructor at West Point, instructing nuclear physics. So my grandson-in-law, whatever, my grandson is teaching nuclear physics at West Point right now. So now you got my end of it. [laughs]
Morris
I do, sir. Can you describe the differences from Sanford and the local area now, than it was when you saw it in your earlier days, sir?
Salsbury
Well, from what I remember mostly, you couldn’t go to a restaurant or practically anywhere without running into people you knew. It was a tight area here, and we knew so many people. And I enjoyed growing up here in Sanford. Throughout my life, oh—there is something I want to mention.
Morris
Okay.
Salsbury
My grandmother—her great-great-grandfather—now because she married, her father was a Tinny in Clearwater, and they were very wealthy, and the family had owned most of what is Downtown Clearwater right now, at the time. Well anyway, her mother was a daughter of a Anna Frank Bellamy. Now, her grandfather was a William Bellamy, the son of Abraham Bellamy, who was one of the first legislators of the state of Florida when it became a state. He was on the committee that wrote the first Florida constitution, and is a signatory of the first Florida constitution, which was, hell. And my grandmother’s uncle, who was a Bellamy—John Bellamy—he paved a road between Tallahassee and St. Augustine, and parts of it is still there with his name on it. And one of the Bellamys also had paved the way for the first railroad line between Port St. Joe in Tallahassee before the other railroad lines in Florida. And the Bellamys owned a plantation. Plantations were among the wealthiest people in the state of Florida at the time, and Madison County, up near Tallahassee, is where they’re buried. But the Bellamys are distant ancestors of mine through my grandmother.
Morris
Wow, sir.
Salsbury
I didn’t want to miss that because I wanted to get that in there somewhere. But my grandmother’s—one of my grandmother’s sisters—well, I’ll go a little further. One of my grandmother’s sisters, she was blind in her old age, but she married a Leslie Evie. Her name was Ebie Evie, and she was a Ebie Tinny Evie. Anyway, she and her husband owned what ended up to be a sort of a hotel later, but it was a boarding house and a post office and a waiver point for ships going down the west coast of Florida. And they stopped in there for provisions and so forth—before Tampa was a Tampa, before St. Petersburg was a St. Petersburg. Back in those days, it was one of the big stops along the way. So my aunt—my great-aunt, Ebie—she even hosted a Russian hierarchy woman that was in the hierarchy of the Russian—in the Russians.
Anyway—but when she was a little girl. They were born—my aunt, grandmother, and her sisters, my great-aunts—they were born in a log cabin at Curlew, on Curlew Creek right there next to Dunedin, between Clearwater and Tarpon Springs in a little town called Dunedin. Curlew’s where they were born in a log cabin. Well, as a young girl, my grandmother’s sister was farmed out to live with a surgeon at Fort Brook in Tampa—before there was a Tampa—the fort there. So this surgeon and his wife raised Ebie as a little girl there, before she got married, anyway, for a number of years. So Fort Brook, in now-Tampa, was involved in all this.
And then, another sister of my grandmother’s, who was a Tinny—born over there at that log cabin, Ira Wood. Ira Wood was her name, after her married name—Ira Tinny Wood. She and Ebie are two people that are very dear to my memory, because I would spend my school years in Sanford, all my summers over there swimming and scalloping and fishing at my grandparents’ there in Ozona, where they lived. And I spent an awful lot of time at their house. My Aunt Ira, her kitchen always smelled like a bakery, or had smell of those cookies, or something baked in there. I’ll never forget it. And then Ebie, she always sat on the front porch at 1981 High Alder, right by their house, and she’d sit on the porch since she was blind. But so many people, and I’m one of them, enjoyed just sitting there talking to her on that screened porch over the years.
And, now, Aunt Ira, who was one of the sisters I was telling you about, of my grandmother, she had a son named Duane—William Duane Wood. That was the name of her husband, but this was William Duane II, and we called him Duane. He and my father were very close, and they grew up together, and he was a naval pilot in World War II. And after he got out of the Navy, he wasn’t a fighter pilot, but he was in the Navy, and he gave me a ride in a Piper Cub he had with floats, there in Ozona. Gave me my first sea plane ride. But anyway, he was hired by the Department of Interior—United States Department of Interior—to oversee Sanibel, the island down there. He lived by the lighthouse, and they provided him an airplane and a launch, and he protected the island from the turtles that, you know, nested there, and different things. He flew up and down the coast and provided samples of water. Anyway, before he died—and I was with him when he passed away over in Tarpon Springs, with my aunt—now that was my aunt that flew in the first airline. But anyway, my uncle[5], Duane Wood, he contributed and helped build the flying model, the Benoist model XIV, which was the air boat that Tony Janus flew in 1914.
And then our president—remember I’m in the Florida Aviation Historical Society—and our president’s gone now, but he flew in 1984, he flew over the same route—this re-model, flying model of the original airplane that flew back in 1914. He flew it over that route, and it’s all documented. And afterwards, it ended up in a museum near Clearwater, and Russell [St.] Arnold, who was a director in the Florida Aviation Historical Society and the primary person responsible for building this flying replica, is the one that gave me my membership and introduced me. I happened to be over showing some videotapes of air shows at Daytona and around to my uncle, Duane, while he was bedridden in Tarpon Springs before he died. Russell [St.] Arnold was there, called him over, and I was able to meet him. And I found out that Duane was instrumental in helping build, or contributing money, contributing something, I don’t what he contributed to the building of this air boat.
Now, in 1991—I think it was, ’90 or ’91—before he died, Russell [St.] Arnold invited myself and my aunt to go see this flying model in the museum. And it was sitting on the floor at the time, and Russ said, “John, get in.” I said, “I can’t do that. That’s a museum piece.” He said, “Well, it’s mine. I guess you can!” I got in there, and he took a photograph of me standing next to it with my aunt standing beside it, and I have a good picture of that. So now, today, the model—that flying model of the Benoist model XIV flying boat—hangs in the museum in St. Petersburg, at the million dollar pier right there at their historical museum, and they’ve got mannequins in the cockpit up there.
But not long ago, a Nicole Stott, who was from Clearwater, flew on the space shuttle as a mission specialist. She carried the banner that flew on the first Benoist model XIV, or on that flight—first flight—with Tony Janus in 1914. She took that aboard the space shuttle, and it’s been returned, and now, if you looked at the airplane hanging in the museum, you’ll see that banner up there that she flew in the space shuttle. Not only that, there’s another connection if you want to hear it, about that.
Morris Of course, sir.
Salsbury
Okay. I didn’t know it, but being a member of the Florida Aviation Historical Society, I knew Ed Hoffman[, Sr.], who was a man that started our society, and was instrumental in building this too, and all that with our president. He passed on here a while back, the day before he was supposed to be inducted into Florida Aviation’s hall of fame. And, anyway, his son, Eddie [Hoffman]—Ed was an architect in San—uh, Tarpon Springs. And he did the interior decoration for the famous—world-famous—Pappas [Riverside] Restaurant. It was over at Tarpon Springs. But anyway, his son, Eddie, is a pilot and he has his own plane, and he’s an architect, and he and I are in communication with each other. And he sent me an e-mail a while back. And it so happened that Nicole Stott and her father—or at least the family—were friends of the Hoffmans—my friends. And Nicole Stott’s father was an aerobatic pilot. He liked flying aerobatics. Well, he took up one of the Hoffman’s flying boots[?], and somehow it crashed into a seawall and he drowned sometime back. And so, uh, that was a tragic ending there. But Nicole Stott, his daughter, ended up being a, uh, shuttle mission specialist, and flying a mission—a few missions back. So I just wanted to mention that.
Morris
Ah. Thank you very much, sir. Do you have anything else you’d like to discuss before we wrap things up?
Salsbury
You know, things were out of context and not chronologically spoken. But I’m glad I remembered the things that I did, and I only want to close by saying that photography has meant so much to me now, and I’m enjoying my days now using a digital Nikon camera that I use for the shuttle and getting wonderful wildlife pictures here in Seminole County.
Morris
Thank you so much for coming today, sir.
Salsbury
Okay.
Morris
Really appreciate that.
Salsbury
Thank you.
Morris
Okay, go ahead.
Salsbury
Okay. Something I want to add. In early 1994, Florida Aviation Historical Society’s president, Ed Hoffman, Sr., asked me to get together photographs of the Cape [Canaveral] area—Kennedy, Cape Kennedy—to go in Florida Aviation History in Pictures. It’s going to be made into an exhibit for the Florida Aviation Museum [Florida Air Museum] in Lakeland. And he gave me the assignment of handling the Cape. So, I had contacted Washington[, D.C.] and Houston and obtained the transparencies I needed to have prints made.
And I—well, later—and this was on April the 11th of ’94—the SUN ‘n FUN air show was going on, and they closed the museum there at Lakeland [Linder Regional] Airport to have a dedication ceremony for our exhibit that the Florida Aviation Historical Society put on—Florida Aviation in Pictures. And so, I attended that, and I had my camera, and I was photographing our president, Hoffman, as he was at the podium, and the director of the SUN ‘n FUN started identifying celebrities or people in the crowd. And he mentioned Curtis Brown, and I lit up and knew immediately who it was. I turned, and I went straight, I left the podium and went straight to him, and I asked him if he would pose for me in front of the exhibit I put together on the Cape, there in the museum. And he did. He posed with me and the president in there, and I didn’t know at the time, but Curt Brown also carried aloft on his mission, STS-66, later. A few months later, he carried aloft a decal and a document from the museum, the SUN ‘n FUN museum. Now it’s the Florida Aviation Museum.
So, as it turned out, I got a chance to meet him and talk with him, and he recalled getting a picture from me of one of the launches when he was at CAPCON, one of the controllers of a mission at Houston. Okay. I told Astronaut Brown that if I got good a picture at his launch, I would send it to him and ask him to autograph it, and so forth. As it turned out, November the 3rd of that year, it was the best picture I’ve ever taken. And I set up two cameras, same location, just to be—to try to get a good picture, and it turned out that way. It’s done very well for me. In fact, a 30 x 40 is hanging in that Florida Aviation Museum now, in Lakeland, as well as in the Viera Hospital, Viera Hospital over here on the coast, near Kennedy. And then the Kennedy Space Center Media Center, and different places. Anyway, Curt Brown later was the commander of the mission that flew John Glenn back into space.
And, well, I want to back up just a few days, because that dedication ceremony took place on the 11th of April of 1984. On the 8th of April of, just a few days earlier, STS-59 Endeavor was to launch on the 8th. And I was out at the fire training tower in the boonies, which was actually about four miles from the pad where the shuttle was. I was out there getting ready to photograph the launch, and up these metal stairs came Ronald Howard, Opie [Taylor] of The Andy Griffith Show, and now a director, producer—anyway, a movie star. His wife and daughter, along with Tom Hanks and his wife. And NASA escorts had brought them up there right beside me, to where I was shooting from. Well, I had a very powerful pair of binoculars—ten power—and they only weighed about nine ounces—Pentax—and I decided to let them use them to look at the shuttle from where we were. And that was the 8th of April, and that day, the shuttle was scrubbed and didn’t go up. But the next day, Tom Hanks couldn’t come with his wife. They had to go back or they couldn’t make it, but Ron Howard walked up to the stairs with his wife and daughter, came straight to me, and said, “Your binoculars are on the front page of The Orlando Sentinel this morning.” Here Tom Hanks is with my binoculars, looking at the shuttle.
Well anyway, I let Ron Howard have my binoculars so they could use them to look at the launch. Well, I photographed it, and he let his daughter use them, and they stood right next to me as the shuttle actually launched on the 9th of April. Well, I told Ron Howard—in fact, I brought the picture of him next to me, I brought that up and he autographed it right on the spot. But I told him that I knew the pilot, Curt Brown—no, Kevin Chilton, I want to back up there. The pilot then was Kevin Chilton. I knew the pilot and I would have an autographed picture sent to him for his daughter, and I did that later. I got a NASA photo, 8 x 10, and had Chilton autograph it, and I sent it to Ron Howard. But, having a chance to meet Ron Howard and Tom Hanks and everything there, for a launch, was a highlight that I don’t want to forget. You can pause if you want to.
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.
Motta
This is Daniel Motta. I’m here at the Museum of Seminole County History. It is July 11th, 2012. I’m talking with Mr. [Harold] Haldeman. Mr. Haldeman, if you could peek in—could you just tell me where and when you were born?
Haldeman
I was born in Tampa, Florida, November 12, 1924.
Motta
All right. And what brought you to Central Florida?
Haldeman
Well, we initially, when I was about six months old, we moved to Maitland, Florida, where I was baptized in the First Presbyterian Church of Maitland. And we were there until 1928, when my father got a job at the Osceola Cypress Company, which was in Osceola, Florida—not to be confused with Osceola County, you know, where Kissimmee is. Okay?
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
So we switched to Seminole County.
Motta
So you were brought to Osceola because of your father, you said?
Haldeman
That’s right. And I was about four years old at the time.
Motta
So some of your earlier memories were from the sawmill?
Haldeman
Yes. In other words, generally speaking, you start remembering things when you’re three and a half or four years old, so I have very good memories of, you know, of the actual move. You know, the physical move, and a little bit about some of the people at the time. But most of it would come, like with most people, five or six years old on up.
Motta
Okay.
Haldeman
I wasn’t, naturally, [laughs] I wasn’t out running around much when I was four years old, naturally.
Motta
Yeah. Well, could you describe a little bit about when you actually arrived in Osceola—the memories as being a child? Could you describe just, like, the day-to-day life of the town?
Haldeman
Well, of course. I think the first impression was it was different than Maitland, ‘cause in the case of Maitland, even though the house was literally right on [U.S. Route] 17-92—you know, going through the area—there were just houses around without any other infrastructure. Whereas in this case, as you came into town, you’d see some houses on the left-hand side, and the school, and then the boarding house and the post office. And then on the right-hand side, there might be a train of logs there, you know, fifteen cars long, you know, with a train engine, and then in the distance, a sawmill literally at the end of the street. So the infrastructure was naturally quite different than what I was used to.
Motta
So Osceola actually seemed like more of a bustling town than Maitland, at the time?
Haldeman
Yes, mainly because you were seeing the whole town kind of at one swoop.
Motta
Yeah, kind of condensed.
Haldeman
Whereas the case in Maitland, they had to either go into Winter Park, or inside[?] Maitland itself—as you probably know today [laughs] —still doesn’t have much in the way of business. It’s mostly Winter Park and Orlando.
Motta
Could you describe the house you moved into, and like the street and neighborhood, a little?
Haldeman
Well, the first five houses as you came in, on the left-hand side—and you always could remember that you were into the little town, because there was a cattle guard, because the area was fenced off. So from an early age, I remember going across the cattle guard, ‘cause if you were asleep, as a little kid, you’d wake up going over the cattle guard, and you knew you were home. So the first five houses on the left-hand side, which kind of called it executive[?] row. That might be a misterm today. But the first house had the bookkeeper. The second house the general superintendent. The third house the person in charge of the mill—not the president, but the operational manager. And my father was the sales manager. He was the fourth house. The company doctor was in the fifth house. So the house itself was—for a company house—was a pretty nice, you know, relatively, to speak of, of course today, a pretty nice house. And of course they [inaudible] electricity during the [Great] Depression. They didn’t—but, so the facilities were pretty good. The water, of course, the water was free, but it came strictly out of the St. Johns River, so [laughs], you naturally didn’t drink it, but it was okay to take a bath in. So those were the things that I probably would have noticed that—because in Maitland, you know, you have the normal city water and all that sort of thing. But so the house was larger than the one in Maitland, so that was probably noticeable, you know, from a kid’s standpoint.
Motta
So where did the water that you drank and cooked with—where did that come from?
Haldeman
The water we drank—that was—unfortunately for the area, if you put down a well, you got quite a bit of salt in the waters. So, had they known—had the company known they were gonna be there that long—they would have even gone deeper to get water, or they would have piped it from Geneva, which was five miles away, but they had good water there. So we used bottled water in some cases. We also supplemented it every time we went into Sanford. We’d always have a couple of five-gallon jugs. In those days, the space between the back seat and the front seat was big enough for five-gallon jugs. And we’d fill it in a filling station, so that was part of it. Now, some of the people, particularly coming from the black quarters, would walk down to the depot on [inaudible] railroad, and there was a pump down there—that the water was drinkable. It had a little strange taste. I mean, it wasn’t, you know, natural spring water, but it was suitable, you know, for that type of thing. But you just had to get used to the taste of it.
Motta
Well, you mentioned these utilities there. How self-sufficient, like in itself, was Osceola? Did you have to take frequent trips to Orlando or Sanford or anywhere else, to get things?
Haldeman
Well, the company, they had a company town and they had their company store, which I worked in at a later date, which we’ll cover later. But it was 18 miles into Sanford on the nine-foot road. And so, we generally went into Sanford on Saturdays. That was kind of the custom in those days, particularly people from out of town. And then we got relatively few items from the company store, because [inaudible] was small and didn’t have a lot of buying power. Even though they were pretty honest, the prices were higher there than they would have been at a bigger store in Sanford. And, now, when you get into special holidays or Christmas, we were more apt to go to Orlando, where there was more retail establishments, [inaudible] otherwise. But that was generally the way we got things. Of course, [inaudible], with a catalog, that’s where almost everybody that lived in the countryside got their clothes and a lot of things, ‘cause that was generally cheaper than buying it in most any town.
Motta
You mentioned that your father was the sales manager. What were his duties? Like how were they different from the other managers’?
Haldeman
Well, he was sales manager, but he also handled all the administrative things. Like he was in charge of buying the insurance and making sure they had insurance coverage. He bought all the supplies for the mill, and things of that nature that you might call operational manager duties, from that standpoint, because there was relatively few key people, as you can see, you know, from the houses that I mentioned, ‘cause the rest of them were either in the supervisory level or below that.
Motta
Did…
Haldeman
Actually, in the sales manager part, he didn’t necessarily handle the salespeople in sales. It would be more like a marketing manager, because they sold through their own representative in Florida to the retail lumber industry, and they sold through wholesale lumber companies in the Midwest and the Northeast. And of course, there wasn’t any reason to go over towards Louisiana or other places in the South, because they already had cypress mills, you know, closer to them. So it was kind of a duke’s mixture of a lot of duties, really.
Motta
Okay. And there were two higher level managers, your father and the other. What did you say…
Haldeman
Only one, actually, above him, what would be the president of the company. So you had a very, you know, limited chain of command.
Motta
So the foreman was just—he had…
Haldeman
The foreman would actually be under either the sawmill foreman or the planing mill foreman, or something of that nature. And they generally were lumber inspectors or someone that handled the crew. Or, in the case of the sawmill or the planing mill, you had an engineer around the steam engines, where you used the power plant and that sort of thing.
Motta
Were there any—as you were a child, when you had first got there, do you remember any of the children having any roles in the sawmill business itself, like in any just odd jobs they would do here and there, or like chores they were expected to do by their parents? Was there anything…
Haldeman
You mean for the mill itself, or for outside of the mill?
Motta
Really anything, but were they involved in—really anything.
Haldeman
No, but really not, because there weren’t that many opportunities. There was—it’s not like, you know, going down and working for McDonald’s or something. They would have—including myself—would have loved to have had some opportunities, but there wasn’t even a paper route, you know, to have. So that was very limited, so they generally did things for their folks and, you know, mowed the lawn and all that sort of thing. And in some cases, like in our yard—the yards were fairly large. The yard was a hundred by three hundred, which would be the size of a football field. So you had a lot of grass to cut, and then in the back part you had chickens and a little garden and so forth. So kids in general, like in the country or particularly farm area, have got plenty to do without working at McDonald’s, if you know what I mean.
Motta
You just mentioned chickens. Was there much livestock there, that the families took care of, or was it a…
Haldeman
Well, it depends. It depends on the family. The general superintendent at the time, particularly prior to—well, most of the time—he had a cow, you know, that produced milk for the family. And I don’t remember a garden in this case, but we had a garden in the back. It grew, you know, naturally not all of our needs, but certainly it, you know, helped. And that type of thing. And [inaudible] chickens—I raised chickens not only for the family, but I sold them to the workers and so forth around the mill. I generally had about 75 hens, you know, for laying eggs, and then I had about 300 fryers. Fryers, rather than [inaudible] beyond that. In other words, fryer is good to sell when they’re about six to eight weeks old. And you get about 25 cents a pound live weight. Remarkably, eggs and chickens were—adjusted for the dollar—were a lot more expensive back then than they are today.
Motta
So you were doing this business with your chickens when you were still a child?
Haldeman
Yeah. Yeah, from the time I was about ten years old ‘til about 15 years old.
Motta
Okay.
Haldeman
So, really, ‘til the time we moved away.
Motta
Did you also say that you had a job in the store—the company store—eventually?
Haldeman
Yeah, when I got out of high school—Seminole High School—in 1941. I was barely 16 when I got out of high school. So, I didn’t have money to go to college, so I worked in the company store from, you know, May or early June of ’41 until September of ’42, when I went to the University of Florida one year before I went into the Navy. So that would have been 15 months, and I saved enough money to go to Florida. ‘Cause my year at Florida—at University of Florida—in ’42, ’43, my total expenses, including bus fare to Gainesville, was $490. So it was much cheaper to go [laughs] to college back then, because the tuition—if you want to call it tuition—they were on a semester system at the time. So the two semesters, and each one was $64 a semester, which would be $128 for the whole year, and that included your yearbook, your football tickets, and concerts, and, you know, soup to nuts. So, I wouldn’t exactly call that tuition [laughs]. So the cost, most of the cost of going to school was room and board.
Motta
So…
Haldeman
Compared to today, it’s quite a contrast.
Motta
Yeah. Yes. So you said you went to college in 1942 and ’43?
Haldeman
Yeah. I went ’42 to ’43. Just the one year. And I was supposed to be called to go into the service. I had signed up for a certain thing, but you had to wait ‘til you were called, but for some reason each county is a little different. You could be in one county and be called much earlier than other counties, or much later than other counties, see. And Seminole County just happened to be one that seemed to have not a surplus, but an adequate number. So you might not be called for a while. So actually, when I got out of college that year, I worked at—I went back to work for the company. I worked in the office in the afternoon, and then I ran the light plant. They had their own light plant, and I ran the light plant at night, ‘til 11 o’clock. We didn’t have lights after 11 o’clock. So then I went in the Navy, about the same time that my folks moved down to Port Everglades, or Fort Lauderdale.
Motta
And that was about—that was the time they moved down there because of the sawmill operation closedown?
Haldeman
Oh, yeah. It was the closing down thing. My father was there the longest of anybody, because they liquidated the [inaudible] of the company. Actually, the company that continued was a different ownership, but some of the same people. Not all the same people, but some of them. And it became a wholesale lumber distribution of the West Coast lumber, rather than cypress. And, so, they took over the liquidation of the town, which most of it—where they just didn’t—where it’s nothing, you know. A steel rail that would have been junk, you know, scratch steel and so forth. But as the war progressed—World War II—those items that were junk. They started having value. So that was one thing that got them shortage. So my father was in charge of getting rid of the things. So the houses that normally would have just kind of deteriorated were actually moved to Sanford and other places, as full houses. And the things were too big, people would come out and tear them down piece by piece, take them back to other places in Seminole County and build another house, ‘cause you couldn’t get lumber any other way, because the government took all the production, you know, that was available. So you had to use something that was already there in order to build anything. And so some of the trains were—they generally were sold for scrap, but the steel rail was suitable to use in the mines and other places, either in the U.S. or South America. So they brought a lot more money than they would have as scrap—scrap metal. The rails—they were used in the logging woods, and so they were quite a few miles of rail, and they just had it stacked up, you know, ready to be sold as scrap or something. But most of that was sold as rail. Now, it’s what you call “light rail.” You couldn’t use it on the main railroad. So there might be—a regular railroad has at least 100- to 150-pound rail, which is three feet is 150 pounds, where this might be a 60-pound rail or something like that. So it was limited use, but still had a lot of value, when you couldn’t use it any other way.
Motta
So, why exactly did the sawmill operation move to South Florida?
Haldeman
Well, the mill didn’t move. They just formed a different type of company. In other words, they no longer sold out of Florida, because they wouldn’t have had enough market, because there’s other people doing the same thing, [inaudible]. In other words, cypress was replaced with lumber from Oregon and Washington and British Columbia and places like that. And what you were shooting for wasn’t [inaudible] in the East very much, because they didn’t—perhaps in the Northwest—not the Northwest—but the Midwest, might have used some. But generally the freight part was too great to compete with things in the Eastern part of the U.S. So the complexion changed considerably, from manufacturing completely to wholesale distribution. In other words, buying lumber on the West Coast of the country. And it either came by ship or by rail over to the Southeast, and then it was distributed all over Florida by truck. So you can see it’s a different type.
See, the timber ran out. The last timber they had—well, the first timber when we moved in there—it came from an area between Osteen and New Smyrna, a little town called Maytown, which I guess is still there. And Maytown was kind of a distribution point on the [inaudible] Railroad that went down to Okeechobee. And now—prior to that, it came from the section from Holopaw down to Okeechobee, in the Kissimmee Valley and places like that. But then the latter part of the time, they logged back of Holly Hill and Ormond Beach and that area, which is Tomoka River section and so forth. But that ran out in 1938, so the sawmill shut down for good in ’38, but they still ran the planing mill, and they brought in lumber from the [inaudible] mill. They had a little mill up in Otter Creek, which is west of Gainesville. And then they had their own little [inaudible] mill near Kissimmee. Actually, I guess it would be where [Walt] Disney [World] is now. There used to be some cypress in that area. And, so, but that was a limited amount, and they did that up until about 1943. And then they closed down the planing mill and everything by that time. So, ‘cause even after 1938, they had 25 million [inaudible] of cypress. It was on the drying yard, ‘cause cypress has to be air-dried, compared to chill-dried. So it takes a long time. It takes a year to the inch. If you got a one-inch board, then technically[?] it takes a year to dry it. If it’s two inches, it takes two years. So if you get into bigger stuff, like a tank, it’s four inches, so it can take four years, you know, to dry it. So you got a lot of stock there that takes a number of years to heat it up. In fact, the only thing that speeded it up was—in World War II—was to get into blossom, and the defense part started picking up after 1940. So, that had an effect to pick up the business, and they were able to move it out at a faster rate. That’s the reason that otherwise it might have—the planing mill—might have run for another couple years, had it not been for World War II.
Motta
Now, I know the company was called the Osceola Cypress Company, but did you deal with any other kinds of woods, or was it just cypress exclusively? Or did you…
Haldeman
It was just cypress, cypress exclusively, ‘cause it’s pretty hard, in the first place, with yellow pine, which is all over the state, particularly the northern part of the state, at the time, it can be a fairly large mill, or it can be a small mill. And actually, today, a pine mill, you’ve seen the trucks running around with the logs on them. They look like telephone poles, you know, whereas cypress was a much bigger log. It took them a much bigger mill, much like California redwood requires.
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
Well, so in cypress—the difference is you cut for quality, not for quantity. Now, most mills cut for quantity, and not for quality, because the logger doesn’t want a sawyer looking at it ten different times and treating it all kinds of ways to get it the best cut. They just shoot it through and it’s done with a computer. They do it in such a manner, they get the most [inaudible] rather than the most quality, because the quality’s gonna be pretty general anyhow, pretty much on the low end of the spectrum.
Motta
So did most sawmills in the Florida area—did they deal with cypress, or was it like a mixed bag?
Haldeman
No, no, most of them were yellow pine, but the reason there weren’t many cypress was because firstly, there wasn’t that much cypress, but also, you had to have a big mill. Everything about it is big. Then the logging part is very expensive, ‘cause you’re going down in swamps. You build a railroad every mile, and then you have big skinners pulling the log as much as a half-mile in each direction. So that takes a lot of equipment. But on the other hand, the lumber that comes out of it brings a much bigger price. Otherwise, you couldn’t afford anything, ‘cause cypress is not a commercial tree. You can grow a good—pretty good—yellow pine for lumber in 30 years, particularly in Mississippi, where they get a lot of rain. Whereas I don’t think you can even classify cypress, ‘cause usually most of those logs were six or eight hundred years old. Most, to begin with. So 60 years—you get a fencepost, you know. Also, cypress—when you look at cypress around Florida, most of that is what they call “pond cypress,” and it never gets very big. It’s really used for a fencepost and that sort of thing. And for log cabins or something. And it has a lot of sap in it. It has very little heart, so it’ll rot away pretty fast, whereas the bigger logs were heavier heart. Only the last outer inch was sap. So, there’s a big, big difference between the two. Cypress in general was the epitome of the finest in what you call softwoods. Now, and there weren’t too many hardwoods to cut in Florida. They might cut some. I’m sure they would cut some gum and a few things like that, but they did it mainly for their own use, for doing trams[?] going out through the drying yards and that sort of thing. They never did sell it or anything. So 99 percent of the cut was cypress.
Motta
In the pictures you sent us, I noticed that most everything in the town is made out of wood. Was the building material cypress for the homes, or was that…
Haldeman
Yeah. Yeah. And the original mill—I’m not sure what the tree was, but the first mill burned down at some point, and evidently the ownership—the deal was different or more money was poured in—I’m not sure what—but the things that were built after about 1921 seemed to be built much better than the ones prior to that time. And you can tell this by—if you look at the one—the company store, that was a sufficient building, but it was a fairly crude building. And some of the early houses weren’t that great. But then, after that, they were built in a much better way. For example, the boarding house, which was the only two-story building you’ll see in the pictures there, the vertical beams on that—when they tore it down, nobody could believe that they were so far apart [laughs]. In other words, that in fact—the guys that tore it down—they finally had to push it over, ‘cause they were scared to go up on top and take the roofing off, because it’s amazing it stays under that long.
But of course, when you build something for a temporary basis, you never expect it could be there that long. In fact, one interesting thing between the white people that came out and tore things down—and that had to be white people in this case—they didn’t do nearly as good as the blacks did. The blacks would come out with 15 or 20 of their cousins, you know, and they would do it piece by piece, and they could retrieve much more of the house than the white people that did it, because they weren’t quite in as much a rush, and they had the personnel to be more meticulous on tearing it down. And of course, two stories, in all fairness, was a little different ‘cause of the mere fact it was two stories. And the white group that did that did a very stupid thing. They took all the siding off the bottom before they started taking the roof off. Well, once you take the siding off, you’ve lost all the strength of the building. Then nobody would go up on the top to take the roofing part off. And by “roofing,” I don’t mean the shingles. I’m talking about the boards, ‘cause the roof is—what you put over the roof—the roof is the boards themselves. But at any rate, that’s kind of an interesting sidelight of the differences in the people, you know.
Motta
I read that many of the workers at the sawmill were black. Was Osceola pretty much as segregated as any other town in the South at that time, or…
Haldeman
Oh, yeah. The only thing that was probably more democratic, we had two or three black people. In fact, one that—he was kind of a mentor to me, ‘cause I was kind of a little kid following him around. And he—I was always amazed at what he could do with his education and so forth. I will always wonder where he got it from, you know. His wife was a midwife across the river from Sanford, in Enterprise, and she used to bring him out every Monday morning and then pick him up Friday night. And, but he kept up the electrical system, which was the city lights, a 2500-volt system—[inaudible] lighting system—and the light—the engine itself and the generator was in the sawmill and earlier in the planing mill. And they would run only at certain times, because there was no need to run them 24 hours a day.
And then there was another black fellow, I think they worked down in the shop, because they built the lumber cars. They kept up the steam engines and all that sort of thing. It was all in-house help. And so, there really—religion or race didn’t seem to have too much to do with it. But now, by nature of the beast, some of the blacks didn’t have opportunity at an earlier age, and that’s understandable. But they had several that had fairly good jobs.
And, as far as religion—you didn’t know who was Jewish and who wasn’t Jewish, you know. Not many paid much attention. So that was pretty much, you know—I’d say a full democratic system, except for the housing. Housing was separate, and that was the one part that probably could have been better, but of course, the turnover was a little greater than in the [inaudible]. But most of the blacks were in there, if they were fairly long-term, they would tend to fix things up, and of course the company would furnish lumber for them and so forth. And so a lot of things were done in that way, even in the case of my folks’ house. My father did a lot to it to improve it, and of course the company furnished the lumber part, so there wasn’t a great expense to, you know, to make improvements. Like I built all the chicken houses and all that sort of thing, and there was no shortage of lumber, particularly in the depths of the Depression [laughs].
Motta
Since you mentioned the Depression, was there any kind of significant impact on the town at the time? Like in the ‘30s?
Haldeman
Oh, yeah, because the sawmill—the sawmill shut down in 1932 and didn’t start back up until 1936. 1936 was the first start to pull out of the Depression. Unfortunately, by 1937, it was kind of [laughs], like some of our [inaudible] right now, things kind of went backwards for a while in ’37. So it wasn’t until ’39 or ’40 that it started picking back up again. So, but they managed to get through 1937 okay, because some parts of the country were still doing all right. But Florida—Florida really didn’t pick up until, well, really the first part of World War II. The first preparations were done early starting in 1940, but particularly in ’41, when [Franklin D.] Roosevelt figured we were gonna see this thing, you know, whether we like it or not. So, whereas some parts of the country held up better— ‘cause, as I said, they sold through the wholesalers in the Northeast and the Midwest. But it was affected ‘cause naturally all the sawmill workers, I don’t know where they went [?]. Of course, some of them were from Georgia. They went back to their folks’ farm or whatever, you know. Fortunately, in the Depression, so many people went back to the farms, where their parents were or relatives were, and today we don’t have those farms to go back to. It was a little different. But, and then of course, the logging camp naturally shut down, because there was nobody to, you know, get the logs. So there was[sic] four years—and that was probably the worst—also the worst part of Seminole County or anywhere near there, as far as the Depression was concerned, because the banks closed. The [inaudible] Bank closed there for a while, and not too many banks survived it—the Depression— ‘cause you didn’t have the FDIC [Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation] guarantee any deposits or anything. So, so that was a rough period. So I’m sure Sanford, you know, was affected by it just as much as any other part. I think the only—I must say that Orlando, and perhaps Lakeland, and Miami Beach, probably did the best during the Depression. Orlando seemed to go along. They weren’t booming, but they kept building a few houses during the Depression.
Motta
When people started leaving the town, to your knowledge—do you know if anybody stayed or stuck around, or didn’t pretty much…
Haldeman
Well, some of the blacks stayed in Sanford. I know the black that kept the boiler room going, and that was probably one of the more important jobs, ‘cause he was the night boiler man, and so they had to keep it up, keep the steam up—you had to keep the steam up not only to be ready the next day, but also in case of fire. You had to have steam for the steam pumps, for water and so forth. And so you kept it up just enough to keep steam, but not enough, you know, to waste the fuel with excess steam that would blow off if it got to be more than needed. Now, he had quite a family, and a lot of those were either from Sanford or from the back end of Sanford. And as you probably well know, the Sanford[?] district was out east in Sanford, on either Celery Avenue, particularly Geneva Avenue. And then of course the black shopping district was on Sanford Avenue, which was where Gatlin Grocery Store was. In fact, I have an ad in that, 1940 ad of one of their sales in their weekly newspaper thing, kind of interesting to see the price of different things [laughs].
Motta
Yeah, I’d imagine.
Haldeman
So, at any rate, the economic growth—I would suspect that Seminole County was hurt a lot more than Orange County—but maybe not as much as some of the counties in the northern part of Florida. But Jacksonville probably did a little better than some of the others, because that was quite a distribution point for a lot of things, like more so, at that time, relatively speaking, than it is today.
Motta
So you don’t know of anybody that actually stayed around in Osceola after everybody left?
Haldeman
No, there wasn’t any place to stay, really, ‘cause the company owned all the houses and they sold them all. But…
Motta
And they owned the land as well?
Haldeman
And they owned the land. And in fact, we had to, the land stayed with the [inaudible] company at Port Everglades until 1982. And it was leased out for years to Cameron[?] for cattle. In fact, they had their own cattle for a while, which was never very profitable. Then they sold it to—no, beg your pardon—they leased it to Cameron, which was a cattleman there. In fact, I think there’s a Cameron Boulevard off of around State Route 436, somewhere along in there. But anyway, that’s the Cameron family. And the thousand acres, about 400 of that was prairie off of Lake Harney, so that used to flood every year, almost every year. In recent years, I don’t think it has. But [inaudible], ‘cause when the water went down, of course you had tremendous grazing[?] for cows[?]. The rest of it was kind of a scrub pine area. Ironically, there were no cypress trees in the Oviedo area. They were all pine trees, but none of any size, ‘cause a lot of the land had been cleared for the lumber piles around, and so forth. And the only people that lived beyond that, if you go west, then you get to the end of paved road, there’s a dirt road that goes west and then it trails north. And about five miles north of the St. Johns, there was a place called Days[?]Camp, and that was a man and a woman that lived there—gosh, I don’t know how long they’d been there. But they were there even before the mill came there, and then he died and she married the caretaker. They must have been there—well, they were there through, you know, ’44, ’45. I don’t know what ever happened to them. And then later on, a Southern belle out of Orlando had a little camp on the St. Johns, just beyond where the sawmill was.
But for the most part, that area, north until you get to Lemon Bluff, which was near a road going from Orlando—Celery Avenue—and going to Osteen, that part of the river literally was never, never developed, partly because it was low. As you probably know, very little of the St. Johns, from—well, from Palatka to anywhere—almost all of it was low land. Even Sanford would flood when Osceola wouldn’t. They built a sawmill there ‘cause it was one of the few places where they had fairly high land.
Motta
I understand in the area where the current Seminole County landfill is, there was an airfield around World War II?
Haldeman
That’s right, ‘cause that was actually some of the company’s property. It really was more than a thousand acres, maybe 1,200 acres. And that was a satellite deal to the naval air station in Jacksonville, because—I mean, in Sanford. See, every field that had a naval setup, those planes were almost all carrier-type planes, you know, for landing in an aircraft carrier. So it took a lot of trading[?] of land[?] and taking off on short distance. They’d mark off the field as if it were an aircraft carrier. And so, so you had, there was one satellite field over at New Smyrna, which was part of the one at Daytona. So almost every one had at least one satellite field. And, in fact, the one in Fort Lauderdale—the big airport we have here was a naval air station, and it had three satellite fields, and they had the bomber planes that were on the aircraft carriers which trained in this area and up there. So, at any rate, that sat there for years, and people would fly in, and they finally had to put sand dunes on it because the drug people were flying in, ‘cause, you know, you could cut in discreetly, come in there without anybody knowing.
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
Now, we had some real trouble with Seminole County, and they were gonna put a full, just plain old dump out there. And I guess they thought we wouldn’t know anything about it. And I was involved with that, because by that time I was the manager. And so we had to, our lawyer had to fight with City Hall—not City Hall—but their County Hall. And at any rate, we won out on it, so they put a full-fledged, you know, bona fide dump that has all the environmental stuff and so forth. We keep [inaudible] on it because then—in order to take the garbage trucks out there—because that’s where most of the garbage for Sanford goes. They redid the road to a 16-foot road, so we [inaudible] the road.
Motta
And when was that?
Haldeman
That would have been about 1970.
Motta
Okay.
Haldeman
And, ‘cause, by that time, the company down here had been sold to a division of [inaudible] Corporation, and they didn’t want the non-operational assets, and so the land up there was something they had no desire to own. So that was spun off as a separate thing, and for years it was on the market. But 18 miles east of Sanford was no-man’s land, you know, at the time. Nobody in particular wanted it. The only value in it was the part that was high land on the St. Johns. And so anyway, at any rate, we finally sold it in 1982, and they broke it up into five-acre plots. The reason for that is to make a lot no smaller than five acres, you can put a septic tank on it. Otherwise, you gotta build a plant. So at any rate, they sold several of the lots right on the St. Johns, and there’s a couple houses down there now—two or three. You can’t see them now, because the trees have grown up so much. And then, I thought they would build some of the land where the lumber even sat, ‘cause that was all cleared and drained pretty well, but they never did, to my knowledge. But they built some right along the, it’d be just east of the [inaudible] right-of-way, ‘cause the railroad’s not there, but the right-of-way’s there. And you can see some along in there, ‘cause the trees have grown up and you can’t[?] see it. But I guess they built them there, because if you look east, and look over 400 acres of prairie toward Lake Harney, and if you went very far east you’d be down in lower land, and I don’t think they would have let you build there because it’s subject to flooding.
Motta
The flood plain.
Haldeman
So it never was developed as much as I think they thought, but I think the guy that bought it did okay, because he got a pretty good price for the stuff on the water and probably got most of his money back on that, and then hoped that the rest would sell at some point. But since that time, there’s been some houses and things between Osceola and Geneva that you can see along the highway there.
Motta
I meant to ask you about Geneva, actually. You said at that time Osceola was about five miles away from the central part of Geneva?
Haldeman
Well, in fact, I think it almost connected five miles to what they call [inaudible] corner. It used to be—and then you’d turn south to go to the end of—until you went about a mile and a half. But those were all Chase & Company orange groves around that whole corner. Later on they built a shortcut that went straight from the Geneva Bridge straight into Geneva. In fact, actually south of Geneva, which is now [State Road] 46. Before 46 used to come toward Osceola and then turn south to get into Geneva. So it was actually about seven and a half miles into where the school was in Geneva. Geneva never was very large. It was strictly a citrus county. It had a lot of orange groves, and they had one packinghouse, and they had, at one time, a little mill to make the orange crates. Almost every packinghouse had some kind of a mill to make the orange crates, ‘cause the orange crates were all wood at that time, but the ones used in the—to bring in the fruit, and also the ones for shipping. And of course, the orange crates used for bringing in fruit were more permanent, and naturally the others were strictly temporary. But it was, as you may well know, even today it’s a very scattered area.
Motta
Yes.
Haldeman
But if you drive through, you’ll think there’s 50 people living there. But if you go back off the road, there’s quite a bit of houses, you know, here and there. But it never has grown like they—I would have thought it would have grown a lot more, because it has, you know, quite a bit going. It’s good high ground. It’s 75 feet higher than Osceola was. And it’s nice. That’s the reason the orange trees were there, ‘cause it was nice sandy soil, whereas Osceola was more of a wet soil.
Motta
You mentioned earlier that between 1932 and ’36, the production at the sawmill stopped?
Haldeman
Yeah, it was shut down completely. Yeah.
Motta
What happened to the residents? Did they, did people move away?
Haldeman
Well, and some probably went back to Georgia. The population there was at least 80 percent black, and so some went to Sanford now[?]. They were beginning to—the celery industry was [inaudible] to get them to move down to Okeechobee, so maybe some of them went down there. You know, it’s amazing, they never really seemed to survive. They just survived very well.
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
But there were, you know, we didn’t have Social Security. We didn’t have this, that, and the other then, but people seemed to make out one way or the other. A lot of them went back to their folks or their relatives and so forth. You know, you had a lot more people doing things for each other than you would have today. If we had the same kind of depression that we had in the ‘30s, [laughs] I’m not sure that the country would hold together. Probably blow up ‘cause people just aren’t used to taking care of themselves one way or the other. I don’t mean it’s quite that bad, but you know what I mean.
Motta
Yeah. It would be interesting to see.
Haldeman
Although it’s interesting what people will do if push comes to shove.
Motta
Yeah. I’d like to switch to a little more personal topic, if I could. Do you have a, like a favorite memory that you can share with us, of the town or your time there? Something that most people that didn’t live in the town wouldn’t know of, or…
Haldeman
Well, I think the informality of it. I guess the fact the first four years of school, it was only half a block to the school, so [laughs] you didn’t have very far to walk, you know, to go to school. And then the teacher, you know—as I mentioned one time, I think—when I talked to you, from 1930 to ’32, it was a four—no, I guess it was not until ’34—at any rate, it was a two-room school with two teachers and four grades. And then, as the Depression set in, the school board cut it back to one room, but six grades instead of four. So one teacher taught six grades. So that was an interesting period because you were going to school—I guess people would think that’s a real handicap today, but in the first place, you had top-flight teachers in those days. I mean, you know, really dedicated teachers. Secondly, with only thirteen students, and then they kind of taught each other the [inaudible]. So it’s amazing the education was that good, considering. And then of course the discipline was tight, so I guess what I’m trying to say is—even with that kind of limitation, the education was probably better than it is today, because now, not only is the school class so big, in general the teachers aren’t quite as competent. At least, a lot of people claim they’re not. I don’t mean there’s not hundreds of exceptions. And then they had discipline in those days that they don’t have today.
So [laughs], a little off-story on this thing, when I was on a cruise recently on the Columbia River. There was a couple from Georgia. He’d been a schoolteacher and a principal and later in school administration, and then in his later years, he worked for the prison department. And the first day he was shown around the prison, the warden said to him, “Don’t you feel a little uneasy here, in this prison?” He said, “Oh, no. This is a lot better than being in a high school with a change[?] of classes[?].” [laughs]
Motta
[laughs] Uh-oh.
Haldeman
Yeah, so it kind of reminded me of the differences in the time, you know.
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
But anyway, I think of the school system, and then of course, education in Geneva. That was a three-room school, so I went there for the seventh and eighth grade. And actually Geneva was much worse off in the Depression than Osceola, at least those of us that were still in Osceola, and by the time I went there, the sawmill had cranked back up. But Geneva was pretty well-hit right on through. And to make matters worse, of course, as you know, later on, you didn’t need a packinghouse every ten miles away. They consolidated that as trucks came in and so forth, so Geneva was hit quite hard during that period, ‘cause I can remember that not too many kids had shoes, you know.
Motta
Oh yeah?
Haldeman
I’ve got a picture of the school there, and I was just looking at it the other day. I was amazed how many ones there were barefoot, you know.
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
So, whereas at least, in Osceola, they had some kind of income. Also, they stopped collecting rent. Of course, electricity, water was free, so even though the salaries and so forth were cut, you didn’t have a lot of extra other expenses that you might have had somewhere else.
Motta
Did you enjoy growing up in that area? Like the geography of the area, more than the town itself, I mean? Like, do you have any memories of going down to the river or Lake Harney?
Haldeman
Oh, yeah, because, and not only, you know, having my own chickens and own things of that nature, because I made little money. I never, you know, got rich on the thing, because—even though I didn’t have too much overhead. And, but I—I built a small boat first, then got one larger. The black person that I mentioned that was kind of a mentor to me, he and I built a really nice boat, and I had a big Johnson motor on it and so forth. I tell you we built it. He was 99 percent and I was one percent, and one of the houses was [inaudible], and we worked at night. He kind of took me as a son, so to speak, because he didn’t have any children, and I mentioned his wife went back to Enterprise during the week, so he didn’t have anything to do at night. So, but I used to follow him around, and I learned a lot from him, not only practical things, but plain old wisdom type of things. But then, later on, you know, I’d think nothing of going down there, getting in the boat, going up to Lemon Bluff or wherever—even Geneva Bridge—without thinking anything about it. If I’d ever broken down, I’d probably still be there, you know, ‘cause [laughs] there were no phones, there were no CB [citizens band] radios, there was no sheriff patrol, you know. There was nothing, you know. In fact, most of the time, nobody even knew I left, you know. They wouldn’t even know where I was. So…
Motta
That sounds a lot different from today.
Haldeman
That’s right. That’s right. Far different, yeah.
Motta
Yeah. Well, we…
Haldeman
Growing up in any country area has a lot of advantages, and a lot of disadvantages, but a lot of advantages.
Motta
We have a little bit of time left. Do you have anything you could share that you think I missed that you think is interesting?
Haldeman
Well, I may have mentioned this either to you or Kim [Nelson], but the, some of the economics is interesting. The houses were—I guess you’d call it executive[?] row—a little unfair to use that term, but that’s about what it amounted to—were $23 a month, and then if you went down to where then you had the schoolhouse and the post office. The post office had the doctor’s office and a little library—at the post office. And that postmistress, of course—that was—I don’t think it was a contract job. I don’t know how it was in those days, but she sold candy and newspapers and other things, because there was only, at the most, 200 people in the town, and half of those didn’t get any mail, so you can see [laughs] it wasn’t that big a post office.
Then you had the boardinghouse and then the company store, and then the office, or between the boardinghouse and the company store, one of the pictures I showed you there, it’s called Pine Street. And that was an extension of the white quarters, and on the left side the houses rented for $15 a month. On the right side they were a little smaller and they were $10 dollars a month. And then the ones down at the end crosswise were $6 dollars a month. Now, even those were—had a little two-bedroom houses. I mean, I don’t know, but maybe eight hundred, nine hundred feet, so they weren’t baby. And then the black quarters was west of that, and they varied all over the place, and usually they could be—they weren’t, you know, anything to write home about, but I can say a lot of times people added onto it or fixed it up or this, that, and the other with it. So I was never down there too much. I could go down there as a kid. In fact, that was the only place you could get a Coca-Cola at night—was to go down there, ‘cause they had their own little juke joint down there, you know. And there’s no place wilder than a black section on Saturday night [laughs].
Motta
Did you play a lot with the black children? Was that—did you guys mingle?
Haldeman
No, no. That was—I guess it was strictly because of the location. I don’t think it had too much to do with race. Young kids, no matter how far back you go, never pay much attention to race. Only older people pay attention to race.
Motta
Yeah.
Haldeman
But I think this had to do with location. But as far as the workers, you know—in fact, the company had some kind of agreement with the sheriff’s department, because they didn’t have any kind of police force at all, but I guess they did have something [inaudible] whatever kind of sheriff department he had. I’m sure it wasn’t that big a deal in Seminole County back then. But they had some kind of agreement with the sheriff at the jail in Sanford. They always kept on the payroll about two people that were on probation and everything had been in jail or whatever. And I remember one that used to—when I didn’t mow the yard—he sometimes would help mowing the yard. And he killed his wife or something or other. They were all, you know, most of the black things[?] in those days had to do with domestic squabbles or something, you know. You know, [laughs] I didn’t think about the fact that he murdered somebody. In those days, you just didn’t give it a second thought.
So those were some of the differences. So there was a little more camaraderie among the adult part than there was the kids’ part. Personally, you know, you rarely saw the kids, to be honest with you, because they pretty well did their own thing. They had their own school. The only thing they didn’t have is a high school, but of course, not every white person went to high school in those days either, for that matter. So. They had the opportunity. I think they—if they went to high school, they stayed with somebody in Sanford or something. I don’t remember. And I really don’t remember that we had hardly any people of that age that I can remember. They were always younger than that. I don’t know what happened to them when they grew up. They probably went to work somewhere else, I guess.
Motta
Well, Mr. Haldeman. Thank you very much for talking with me today.
Haldeman
Okay, and if there’s anything that we missed or there’s, you know, something to expand on or some other part of an outline that got missed, you know, call me anytime. Now, if I don’t answer when you call from the museum, it shows up here as unavailable. Sometimes we don’t catch that right off. If we ever answered unavailable, call…
Motta
All right. It is May 30, 2012, and I am speaking to Mr. Leonard Casselberry and Mrs. Jane Casselberry at the Museum of Seminole County History. To start off, Mr. Casselberry, can you tell me a little about where you were born and your childhood?
Leonard
Well, I was born in Chicago[, Illinois]. I fit in a shoebox when I came down here, and I grew up and went to school in Winter Park.
Motta
So you just moved down here when you were one or two?
Leonard
Yes, yes.
Motta
So you went through high school in Winter Park High School?
Leonard
I went to military school two years.
Jane
Bolles
Leonard
Bolles Military School in Jacksonville.
Motta
Jacksonville.
Leonard
And went in the Navy.
Motta
So did you not spend much of your childhood in the Central Florida area, or…
Leonard
Oh, yes. Yes, went to school in Winter Park, and back out in Casselberry, when I was working out there, following my dad around a little bit. It’s what you usually do [laughs].
Motta
So how long did you stay? You went through high school here, or just—when did you go to military school?
Leonard
Junior, senior year.
Motta
Okay. Was there any particular reason you went there, or...
Leonard
Well, it was just coming up on the war [World War II], and dad sent us for a little military training or something.
Motta
So how old were you when the war broke out?
Leonard
Eighteen or something.
Jane
Seventeen, I think.
Leonard
Seventeen.
Motta
Seventeen? So you didn’t serve? You were a little too young then?
Leonard
Couldn’t get in, then.
Motta
Yeah. No, no problem there.
Leonard
[laughs].
Motta
So do you have any memories of—I mean, how was it, being the son of somebody who was starting his own town?
Leonard
Of course, we—Dad[1] was in the fern business out here, and occasionally I could ride from Winter Park, where I went to school at. We lived on Lake Maitland in Winter Park, and I’d ride with Dad coming out here. From Via Tuscany, and then come out on…
Jane
Lake Howell Road.
Leonard
Lake Howell Road, and turn left and come back out this way.
Motta
I imagine that trip was different then, much different-looking.
Leonard
Yes, came by the turkey farm, and came on out through the orange groves, on out to Casselberry.
Jane
It wasn’t Casselberry in charter until 1940. His dad came in 1926, to work with—what’d they call it, Fern Park Estates? Where they would try to have like an artist colony, and people to come down, and they would have a little piece of fernery, and some orange, piece of orange groves. Maybe they’d have a little income with their house, and they could retire here or come in the winter, and…
Motta
And that was with Mr. Burnett?
Jane
Yes, he was hired to sell real estate, and to—and Mr. Burnett had a fernery, and Mr. Casselberry started his own fernery, and of course there was a lot of tension between the two.
Motta
Yeah, I’d imagine. Yeah.
Jane
Yeah.
Motta
And you went to Winter Park High School, correct—s well?
Jane
I did. I graduated from Winter Park High.
Motta
And that’s where you two met?
Jane
Yes.
Motta
So did either of you do any work with the ferns or azaleas or anything? Like, were you actually…
Jane
He did as a kid, in the winter, when they called everybody in due to the danger of freezing.
Motta
Any stories there?
Leonard
Well, you know, are you familiar with a fern shed, and you see the pots and so on? But what’s the temperature on there? And the temperature indicates it’s going to be down close to freezing. We’d call the hands in, so to speak, and watch the temperature, and then Dad had thermometers stuck in the different areas around the fernery, so we could check the different areas, and when the temperature goes down in one part of it, they notify, send somebody out to get the hands, ‘cause most of them didn’t live in Casselberry. They lived over in Altamonte [Springs], and they’d send the truck around, get the fellows to come in that were gonna be there, and one of the ladies would come in, do a little cooking for us. We’d watch, read the thermometers, and when the temperature goes down close to 30-something, we’d pass the word along. The men would come on in, and they’d get their—some of them would have—Dad used to issue boots, and…
Jane
How did they light the smudge pots?
Leonard
They’d go around with—light the flare or a little torchlight that they could light, and they’d tip them down and spill some of the diesel and gas mixture into the pot to get it started.
Motta
Into the soil?
Leonard
In the pot. Light up, take a little while, ‘cause it was fuel oil and not gasoline. It’d explode or something. So.
Motta
So that’s how they kept the ferns warm?
Leonard
Yes—well, they’d light it. And, I was reading—Paul Bates was one of those foremen there, and he’d go in and light the north, and the west, or sometimes the east side, first. A row along the fence. Well, the heat inside slat roofs like that, keeps some of the heat underneath. But it’d let the sunlight in the daytime, but when it got cold, it’d keep some of the heat in it. When the temperature got down to 32 [degrees Fahrenheit], they’d light up the side that the breeze was blowing on, and that would go through the fernery and would still keep it above freezing, until it got lower at other parts and they’d light other pots. Sometimes they’d have to light them all—before morning, ‘cause the cold temperature here about seven o’clock or after. It was quite interesting, and we’d get around the heaters, and of course we’d have to continue reading, and if the temperature drops down, or comes back up, we’d put some of them out, or didn’t light them all. When the time comes to shut them down, they’d go by and snuff them out. Then we’d have to fuel them, and Dad got the Atlantic Coast Line Railway[sic] to put a side track on up there where Casselberry’s siding, inside where our railroad station is, and how it got started.
Got a siding there. They’d come in, drop a tanker there, and we’d pump it out of there, and some of it would be there, then we’d pump it from there, part of it, out to a tank out by one part of the fernery, and another part to another part. Then they also had another pump. It would feed the line. We had line running from the tank on out the fernery. I don’t know if it shows it in this photograph or not, of a—run about a two-inch line, and then drops down to smaller, and then we had the faucet to fill at the end of each row where the pots were going down through, like in a row, and fasten the oil hose there, close the valve, of course, and then, move to the next one and fill the next row of pots that way.
Motta
Well, there’s a lot—there’s a lot you don’t think about, that goes into that.
Leonard
Yeah, they dragged in the oil, you know, like a sprinkler line or hose line down there, and it has a valve on the hose, so you’ll stick it inside the pot and watch until it gets full, turn it off and go to the next pot, does the same thing, in a row, and then as far as they can reach, and then go over to the next one and go back down, to fill them so they’d be ready for the next day.
Jane
Well, tell him about how they’d cut the fern asparagus plumosus and how they sorted it and everything.
Leonard
Well, asparagus plumosus used to—you’d refer to it as that ferns you’d see in the front of the banquet or someplace like that.
Jane
The center of the table.
Leonard
The center of the table. Sometime you get a flake of it in your butter or something—like that, butter patty?
Jane
[laughs].
Leonard
It’s a lacy fern, and it usually lays flat. When it grows, as you call it asparagus plumosus, it comes up just like a shoot of asparagus, and comes on out and sticks way up in a room like this and finally feathers out up there like that, and turned—of course, it’s not always green. It’s yellow and gets green when—it gets dark green—when you grip it off to bring in the packinghouse, and in the packinghouse, they’ll cut them and bring them in in bunches, big bunches like this—field hands— ‘cause they’ll catch all different kinds when they’re clipping them, just trying to clip ripe ones, or good ones, so to speak, and then we they come in—and then the girls will grade them, and they’ll grade them, and some of them are long, and some of them are medium, and some will be shorts.
Motta
And get rid of the…
Leonard
The rest of them.
Motta
The rejects.
Leonard
Well, yeah. Go out, and then, they will be more or less laid flat on each other, like this, with a ball, bag of moss, like, on the end of it, with a—they’re tied together.
Jane
And it would have been in a tank of water.
Leonard
Ball of paper around it, and then they would be put in a tank to preserve them, like when you put flowers in a jar to keep them.
Motta
Were they shipped out like that?
Leonard
They would just sit down on slats in shallow tanks, like this, in rows, and then they would go in, pick them out, and go to pack them. Well, they were taken out of there, and dipped in icy water, and break up ice, put it in a tank, about so square and that deep. They’d dip them in so they’d get wet all the way through. Then they’d throw them on the rack and let them drain out, and then they’d put them in thin wood pack…
Jane
Crates.
Leonard
Crates, like food crates, like…
Motta
Like fruit crates?
Leonard
Similar to that, and they would line the box with newspapers. We used to open up newspapers, get them flat like this, and then we’d roll them and take them and sell them to Barnett or Casselberry who needs them, buys them, pays them so much a pound for them. So many cents a pound for them. The newspapers all flat, and they’d take four, five, six of them to line the box, put down the end, the side, and the side like this, and some in the bottom. They’d put a few bunches of fern in there like this, and then they’d have a chunk ice, and wrap it in newspaper, several layers, depending upon the size of the box for shipping, and you’d be put it in the middle. They’d put some more fern around it like that, close newspapers around it like that, and close the crate like that. Then you gotta—like an ice box, ice in the middle, wrapped up in paper, and the fern’s the insulation, and outside’s the insulation’s newspapers, and they’d take it to the railway express, and they’d load it on the train.
Motta I never realized how much ice was involved with ferns.
Leonard Yes.
Jane And the—these ferns were shipped directly to the florist, and they could be packed to order if they wanted so many shorts or longs.
Motta
And did you ship just to around the Florida area, or nationally?
Leonard
Nationally.
Jane
All the states and Canada.
Motta
Oh, yeah?
Jane
At one time, it was the largest fern business in the world.
Motta
And that kind of tapered off after the [World] War [II]?
Jane
Well, during the war, of course, that was not a priority, to ship ferns. There were war materials. Also, a lot of the men were called to war, and didn’t have people to work.
Motta
So the women were mostly working in the…
Jane
So that’s when Mr. Casselberry was looking for something to help the war effort that would involve something that the women would be good at, and they said women can sew, you know. So that’s when they started making the bandoliers for the Army.
Leonard
And parachutes for fragmentation bombs?
Jane
That came later.
Motta
And your father—did he own the factories that made those, or...
Jane
Yes.
Leonard
Yes, he converted some of the buildings where the fertilizer mixing—where we mixed the fertilizer for a while, and we quit doing that and used that building on the railroad…
Jane
To make bandoliers.
Leonard
To make bandoliers on it.
Jane
But for the parachutes, we had to have a special building, and of course getting any priority to build anything was frankly impossible back then.
Leonard
Couldn’t build, even with the parts that you couldn’t buy building material, to build houses or anything like that, ‘cause everything was going to the war.
Jane
But he got the permission ‘cause they needed this product, and it went up in, what, how many days? A month or two months, and they said it was like a miracle building, you know. So that’s where they were making the bomb chutes to be used…
Motta
Do you…
Jane
Do you wanna tell what they—how they—why they needed them?
Leonard
Well, they needed them for fragmentation bombs. The ones they dropped bombs on, they had to fly low to drop down. But when you drop a bomb, it follows along underneath your plane. So they wanted a parachute for the backup to slow the—so the pilot could get out, you know?
Jane
Lost a lot of planes that way!
Leonard
[laughs].
Jane
So they came up with the idea of putting a parachute on the bomb so it would slow it down and let the crew get away.
Motta
I’ve always seen the parachutes on the bomb, and I never thought of that. Yeah, that’s—could I—I’d like to back up a little bit. When you two met in high school, did you know who he was? I mean, did you know, like, who his father was?
Jane
Well, we were probably in tenth grade, and we would have shared some classes, study hall.
Motta
So everybody knew who his father was and everything at that time?
Jane
Well, not really much. But he had a nice convertible—owned by his dad—that he could come to school in. [laughs]
Motta
What kind of convertible?
Jane
Ford.
Leonard
This was a Ford Club Coupe convertible, with the top down.
Motta
Oh [laughs]. That’s a nice Florida car.
Leonard
Yeah, she wanted a ride home, but she didn’t tell me that ‘til later.
Motta
[laughs] Well, looks like things worked out well.
Leonard
Yes, very well.
Jane
Yes, and he lived on one side of Lake Maitland, and I lived on the other, and he would come see me in his mother’s sailboat.
Motta
So that was in Winter Park, not Maitland, you lived in?
Jane
That was Winter Park, Lake Maitland.
Motta
Okay. So, I mean, [laughs] what do you—I’d love to get your opinion on what you think of how the city’s [Casselberry] progressed. When you look at it today, what do you think? I mean, what comes to your mind?
Leonard
Well, we remember when we were incorporated, but also remember when we didn’t have so many families there.
Jane
Back to about the paper that they wrapped the ice in, that was a good way—later, after the war, when we had children, that’s how they made their money to go to the movies or whatever. We’d take newspapers, and roll them, and sell them to the fernery.
Motta
Oh, yeah? So people would just collect newspapers and sell them?
Leonard
Yeah, you’d collect your newspapers, leftover newspapers.
Jane
Stack them up and roll them.
Leonard
Recycling, so to speak.
Motta
Do you remember how much you got for like a bundle, or—like, how much…
Jane
Not much, but it was a lot then.
Motta
Yeah, few cents here and there. Yeah.
Leonard
Well, get a couple of rolls, and you made a movie ticket.
Motta
That’s not bad.
Jane
And the ferns were shipped on railway express, back then, ‘cause they didn’t have the airplanes and things, and one of the first times we ever sent a shipment out on air, we went up to Ocala, and there was just like a cargo plane, maybe like a [Douglas] DC-3.
Motta
So there wasn’t an airport near Sanford, then?
Jane
Well, I don’t know. Maybe that was the nearest one that was shipping agricultural things.
Motta
So do you remember—I read that your father got into azaleas—like starting to grow azaleas. Is that correct?
Jane
Yeah.
Leonard
Yes, back…
Jane
Earlier he was into gladiolas.
Motta
Oh, yeah.
Jane
They grew out gladiolas from the bulbs. And—I gave Kim [Nelson] a picture, and the Belgian azaleas were beautiful. Up ‘til then, you know, just had the plain azaleas. But we had—with the Belgian azaleas, there were so many different varieties, and they were ruffled, [inaudible], different colors and combination of colors, and he was in business with a man called Jules Cole…
Leonard
Jules Cole.
Jane
That knew about azaleas. That’s how they got introduced.
Motta
But it was mostly just ferns. That was the main product?
Jane
Yeah.
Leonard
The Belgian azaleas, they set up as a couple acres or something like that for him, and developed them. Dad sold them out on the highway, and would scatter them around through town.
Jane
There was an area that had, like the bay trees and oak trees and things. It was like north of where the [Casselberry] City Hall is now. It’s this plain, but back then it was just thick woods.
Motta
Near Lake Concord, or...
Jane
And he had, like…
Leonard
South of Lake Concord.
Motta
Okay.
Jane
Like a faux Cypress Gardens. He had girls in antebellum skirts and outfits, showing people around the azaleas.
Motta
Oh, yeah? Were there like refreshments and things there?
Leonard
No, it wasn’t that. But it was just a…
Motta
Just a…
Leonard
Something that slows traffic down.
Jane
[laughs].
Motta
So you mentioned going by orange groves. Your father wasn’t in that business at all? Orange…
Leonard
No, we had a couple places where we started some going. Tally Hattaway and I got a bunch of seedlings up, but we didn’t follow through with much of them.
Jane
They were, like, sour, and they had this idea of planting them in the ferneries to add a shade. I guess it was expensive to replace the slats, and they planted these trees—orange trees—that got big, to provide shade, and that was the area where you find Target now.
Motta
By the Evergreen Cemetery?
Jane
It was all ferneries, and it had those orange trees growing in there. The sour oranges.
Motta
So the orange trees were pretty much abandoned then, ‘cause of the sour?
Jane
Yeah.
Leonard
Yeah, well, they liked the oak trees, and the competition we had…
Jane
Oak trees, yeah.
Leonard
Was from DeLand ferneries, and they’d grow theirs out in the woods, under the oak trees.
Jane
Out in Volusia [County].
Motta
So that was your father’s competition, the DeLand growers?
Leonard
Some of it was there.
Jane
We had local competition.
Leonard
Yeah, and then, so, we started buying oak trees. Dad put some of them on every lot that he was developing, and then we had planted some of them in ferneries, and so we had quite a few that were trees, but we didn’t replace the slats much again, and just let them grow under the trees. We could get them that way.
Jane
Well, we moved to Casselberry after he got out of the Navy, after World War II, and he had a piece of fernery that he’d inherited, from an aunt or something?
Leonard
Aunt May had left it to my brother and I, a couple acres of fernery, were on these development deals where they could have a house on it and so on, and Dad just leased those, so I said, “Well, can I lease those?” And Dad said, “Yeah, let me lease them.” So I’d be responsible for them, and I’d see about getting the fertilizer, mowing them, taking care of them. Had a crew working, just like big crews too. Yeah. Of course, in most cases they’re cutting fern or something like that, but they also had crews that they’d weed when they weren’t cutting. They’d go back to weeding or something else.
Motta
So that looks like a pretty big fernery. Was that about average size, or was this...
Leonard
No, that’s just one acre or so. There’d be several of those put together.
Jane
And he got, worked up all these florist customers, and we went through the Midwest, visiting and trying to get business.
Motta
So was that your primary business after you got out of the Navy?
Leonard
Probably for a little while. But Dad wanted us to go to the conventions, and we’d have to wear white.
Jane
Yeah, he always wore a white Palm Beach suit, or white with white jodhpurs or something, with a spray of fern on his lapel, and so when we were going with him to Chicago, to the convention, we had to have the white suits, too. With the fern.
Motta
And you didn’t care for those?
Jane
Oh, they were fine, except I got one and he said, “No, that wouldn’t do it.” It had to be like the Palm Beach kind of suit.
Motta
Wrong kind of fern?
Jane
So—went back and got some more—another outfit.
Motta
So you’ve lived in Casselberry since then? You haven’t lived anywhere else, moved anywhere?
Jane
Not since then.
Leonard
Well, we lived at the horse track for several years.
Motta
At the horse track?
Leonard
Yes.
Jane
Yes, see, soon after we moved to Casselberry, Mr. Casselberry acquired the Seminole Driving Park, and that was what, at the time, a winter training track for harness horses, and it was built about 1925, something like that, and then at time there was thoroughbred racing and different things. So here we were. We had no experience in this at all, and they’re a very closed community—the horsemen. But, so then he had to get the property ready, the barns fixed up and tack rooms, and came with it like a grandstand and a clubhouse. Well, his dad wanted him to run the clubhouse like an American plan hotel. So, as well as maintaining the track and everything, we had to go in the hotel business.
Motta
And that was...
Jane
And he was his early twenties, with—had to learn, like, experience…
Motta
As you’re going along?
Jane
Yeah, and he had to go up north to the horse sales to placate the horsemen that might have been upset about something that happened before we got it, and talk them into coming back, and then he would fix up the barns and do this and that. So.
Leonard
Of course, we didn’t know that when Dad—it’s adjacent to his property, and Dad bought it and he’d acquired some additional property to be able to develop part of. Says, “You can take care of the horses or I can.” So we were in there and trying to take care of it. When they sold it is when the horsemen had agreed with Ben White Raceway, which hadn’t started yet. They said Orlando told them, “We’ll build this half-mile track in Orlando if you’ll come down here, leave Seminole [County].” So they agreed to do that.
Jane
Well, we figured, at least we’ve got this guy Frank that’s a track man that would know what to do and knows the horsemen, and then he announces that he’s been hired to go to Ben White [laughs].
Motta
So they just stole it all away from...
Jane
Yeah [laughs].
Leonard
Well, they stayed just a little bit. We had some help getting up until they had to move to over there, on how to handle—we bought a jeep to drag the track with. Had a water wagon.
Jane
A clay track. Dirt track.
Motta
And was this all—were all these jobs—you were writing at the time?
Jane
I was not writing—well, I had been writing just local news for the area newspapers.
Motta
Like the Sanford newspaper?
Jane
But not full-time. So, his dad advertised it with an organization called “Ask Mr. Foster”, where you could—they send people to you, a travel service, you know, and so we were getting—here we were, and we had people, ninety-year-old women and eighty-year-old men, and then we had young families looking for excitement, and women looking for men. Whatever, you know [laughs]. Had all this variety, plus we had the horsemen to feed, and the grooms you’d have to feed like at five in the morning, before they went out to work the horses, and we’d have—they would be kind of rough, and would come and get drunk or something, and then we’d have these nice people [laughs] Oh, it was interesting.
Motta
Sounds interesting. So did you have any other jobs after that, or...
Jane
Well, in the summertime, we didn’t have the horses. About May, they would go up to the races, and sometimes you would have car races back then, before they had the Daytona…
Motta
[Daytona] 500?
Jane
They would have stock car races on that track.
Motta
And where was this located, the track located? In the…
Jane
You know where Seminola Boulevard is?
Motta
The same, where the…
Jane
Where they’re building apartments there now.
Motta
Oh, the big…
Jane
At the end of Seminola Boulevard.
Motta
Oh, yeah, the big field area.
Leonard
Yeah.
Jane
Yeah, all of that was our track property.
Motta
When did that go away, the track?
Jane
We had a one-mile track. After Mr. Casselberry sold his white elephant. He—it was various kinds of horse races with pari-mutuel betting, and then it was dog races. I mean, we had like a dog track on each end of Seminola.
Motta
So the track went away in the ‘70s or so, or, around then?
Jane
Well, a few years back, they closed down the dog track, and then they sold it to this developer. Well, actually, they sold it to Northland Church, and then Northland decided to expand on their present property on Dog Track [Road], and they sold it to the developer, and they’re still building and building, building.
Motta
Oh, wow. Well, learn something new every day.
Leonard
Yes.
Motta
So, your opinion on today’s Casselberry?
Leonard
Is it what?
Motta
Do you like it? Do you enjoy what the city is like now?
Leonard
Oh, yes. Of course, Dad had a lot of fun while it was happening.
Motta
Yeah. I know it was a lot different.
Leonard
He was working and sweating on a lot of it, some of it.
Motta
You think he would be proud of what it has become?
Leonard
Oh, yes.
Jane
I think so. Right now, it’s in kind of flux in major areas, business areas, because of those fly-overs.
Motta
Yeah, I actually live just about a half-mile from one of those—the construction site. So, yeah.
Jane
Yeah, they built—you know, they bought up property. But it’s just sitting there, and the business had to move, or close, or something. But we like the parks, what they’re doing with the parks. They’re beautiful, and people are using them.
Motta
Well, let’s see if we have any…
Jane
You asked what he did. He’s done a little bit of everything, but he worked for Casselberry Utilities many years. His father developed the sewer system that built the sewer plant and everything. That was the first sewer plant in Seminole County that really treated the sewage.
Leonard
Sanford had one. They just chewed it a little bit and dumped it in a lake.
Jane
Dumped it in Lake Monroe.
Leonard
[laughs].
Motta
Did your father own the utility company, or was that city by then?
Leonard
He owned it.
Jane
He owned it, and eventually it was sold to the city, and he continued to work for the city.
Leonard
For a short time.
Jane
For a time.
Leonard
Seven years. Not enough to get a retirement out of it.
Jane
And then after he retired, he went to work for the City of Winter Park Utilities, ‘til he was up in mid-seventies.
Motta
Oh, impressive.
Leonard
That’s a while back.
Jane
Yes, 87 now.
Motta
Oh, wow. Congratulations. Working into your mid-seventies, that’s admirable.
Jane
A lot of people can be doing that now [laughs].
Motta
Yeah, it’s admirable, though. Was there anything else you would like to discuss that we haven’t already? Any anecdotes or anything?
Leonard
Any more questions you have?
Motta
I think we covered a lot there.
Leonard
Yes, more than you want, probably.
Motta
Oh, no, this is great for me. All right. Well, thank you very much.
[1] Hibbard Casselberry.
Morris
This is an interview with Ima Jean [Bostick] Yarborough, and this interview is being conducted on November 10, 2011, at the Museum of Seminole County History. The interviewer is Joseph Morris, representing the Linda McKnight Batman Oral History Project for the Historical Society of Central Florida. Ma’am, could you tell us about where you were born, and when?
Yarborough
I was born in Ocala, Florida, on Sanchez Street, August the 2nd, 1935.
Morris
Okay. And could you tell us a little bit more about where, what kind of environment you grew up in, house, and...
Yarborough
Yes, this is a two-story home that my mother was living in at the time with her in-laws, and we went back later and purchased the home, but I was around ten years old at that time. So she lived there for about a year and a half with me. This home is still standing. When I go to Ocala on business or pleasure, I go by and look at it, and have wonderful memories there, because it was across the street from a city park called Tuscawilla Park. That was very close to a logging company that was in Ocala at that time, and they used the ponds to float the logs in. So it was a wonderful place for a child to grow up and play. We could fish the pond. We could wade the pond. And there was tennis courts all around that one particular pond, so we just had a wonderful playground right there as we were growing up. That was way before television, and not many radios.
Morris
Okay, ma’am. The community—was it a very sparse community, or very condensed?
Yarborough
It’s a large, it was a large community, because that’s very close to Silver Springs, which is a beautiful, a natural spring, and the Seminole Indians were there for quite a while. And there was a big reptile collection [Ross Allen’s Reptile Institute] out there that people could pay to go and visit. That was originally started by a gentleman by the name of Ross Allen, and he played with alligators and milked rattlesnakes for the venom, for medical purposes. So people could go out there and pay to watch all that. It was an entertainment place. But as children we, the city took a bus out each year during the summer, each day, and you could have swimming classes out there. So we were very fortunate to learn to swim early, and enjoyed that particular area. Now it has grown into a home place for horses, especially racehorses and quarter horses.
Morris
At Silver Springs, ma’am?
Yarborough
No, Ocala.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t switch right. But Ocala has continually grown out, and it’s quite a large city.
Morris
Can you tell me more changes that might have occurred from when you were growing up in Ocala and now how it is today? Like what kind—when you go there, what differences stand out to you the most, ma’am?
Yarborough
More people, [laughs] more people. Of course, everything was centrally located uptown at that time. There was a town square in the center of town, which is still there with a bandshell. At that time, it had a bandshell on it, and a bandshell is used to—for a band to play music while people sit around and enjoy it, like a park atmosphere. There’s a lot of shopping centers, of course. Most towns have those now. But everything was built around that square, and just evolved out from it like a star.
Yarborough
There’s a lot of horse enthusiasts, and horse breeders and racers up in that country, as I said earlier, now. So they have large statues of horses all around the square at this point.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
So it’s grown, typically, like every other city in the state of Florida.
MorrisAny particular reason the horse training took off in Ocala?
Yarborough
They’ve got a lot of lime rock up in that area, and that helps to grow very strong grass, and you need good grass for cows and horses. And it was—some people were already growing horses in the area, and they had a race horse that had won one of the very important races, that was raised from that area. So it just, after he won the race, they just started coming to that area to raise their animals and winter their animals.
Morris
Oh, better climate?
Yarborough
Better climate.
Morris
Gotcha, ma’am. How do you feel about the changes that have occurred from when you were growing up to now? Do you—positive, negative changes, anything? How do you feel?
Yarborough
Oh, I guess most of it’s positive. I want to feel that way. I try to find something positive in everything I encounter. Sometimes it’s harder than others.
Morris
And any examples of that, ma’am? You knew I was gonna ask.
Yarborough
[laughs] Oh, goodness. I’ll think on that one and come back. Okay, Joseph?
Morris
Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.
Yarborough
We’ll put that at the end. Okay.
Morris
And so, after that, where have you lived? Have you always lived in Ocala, ma’am?
Yarborough
My mother went to work, and I lived with my grandmother in Oxford.
Morris
Okay, we’re back, and we were discussing where you’ve lived over the years, ma’am.
Yarborough
Yes, Oxford is a little town in Sumter County on the west side of the state, south of Ocala, and that’s where my mother was raised. And I lived the first year before school and the first grade. I lived with my grandmother. And I had a sister, Nadine, who was about three years younger than myself. And back then, we carried our lunch to school in little brown bags or maybe like a little syrup can, whichever you had. But our grandmother always made sure that I had an apple in my lunch every day, and there wasn’t always an apple left for my sister, Nadine, to have when she wanted it, under those particular circumstances. So one morning, Grandmother—we called her Granny, Granny Olberry—was packing my lunch, and my sister, Nadine, asked for an apple, and Granny said, “Nadine, you know that Ima Jean’s got to take that apple for recess.” And Nadine got very disturbed and started crying, and she says, “When I get big and go to school, I’m going to slap recess’s face for taking Ima Jean’s apple.” So that has always been a laugh, a laughing situation in our family. Recess, of course, was time out in school to play outside. Not every kid even knows what recess is, ‘cause now it’s usually called break or gym…
Morris
P.E.
Yarborough
Something of that nature.
Morris
Right, ma’am. What kind of jobs did your family have, and that you had, also, ‘cause I’m...
Yarborough
Okay, my mother’s people were in the cow business. Her brothers and her dad were. And my mother’s mother passed away at her birth, so she was adopted by the Olberry family and moved to Oxford. And the couple that adopted her were just good old salt-of-the-earth people. Granddaddy was a[sic] what we would call jack-of-all-trades. He was a repairman. He repaired people’s cars. He repaired their equipment that broke down. He repaired their shoes. He just was a good fixer-upper. And of course, Granny stayed at home and canned, and took care of the garden and the family.
Morris
And what about your...
Yarborough
My mother worked as—she was in charge of the waiters and waitresses at a big hotel in Ocala. That was her night job. Her day job was cashier for a Piggly Wiggly, which was a strand of grocery stores at that time, that later became Winn Dixie, that we know today. She worked Winn-Dixie for 20-something years.
Morris
Okay, ma’am, and how come—your grandparents, you said, worked in cattle?
Yarborough
Yes.
Morris
But your mother did not?
Yarborough
No.
Morris
Did she not have an interest, ma’am, or...
Yarborough
No, by being adopted out, she wasn’t where the cattle were, so she went straight from school to getting married, and then working at Winn-Dixie and the hotel.
Morris
Okay, and when did you start working, ma’am?
Yarborough
I started working as a freshman in high school, and I worked for the Winn-Dixie meat—in the meat department—making hamburger, cutting up chickens, weighing out the meat and wrapping it to go into the case to be sold. And I would work on weekends and at holidays.
Morris
And how long did you have that job for, ma’am?
Yarborough
Four years of high school, and about a year afterwards.
Morris
Okay, and what did you do after high school, ma’am?
Yarborough
My husband and I got married.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
And he went into the service, and I went back and worked at Winn-Dixie for a while, ‘til I could go to Oklahoma whenever he was transferred to Oklahoma after basic training.
Yarborough
But let me go back into when I, how I met Edward [Yarborough].
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
In October—in fact, October the 26th, 1949, my mother moved to Geneva. She had remarried, and my stepfather was coming down to help his brother work his orange grove and cattle over in the Chuluota area. So we moved to Geneva, because there was a good school there. And Mother went to work at the Piggly Wiggly, which is now the Goodwill store here in Sanford on Palmetto [Avenue]. And at that time we moved into a lovely home, and that afternoon, we had some heavy furniture to be moved. And Miss Pearl Yarborough was the lady who owned the home, and she said that when her son came in, he would help move the furniture for us that afternoon, along with my stepdad. So later on we heard him—what we know now was a cow whip—making a noise coming up the road, and it was my—it was Edward and his uncle coming in from work. And their habit was to crack the cow whip all the way up the lane, and that was just to give them practice, as well as let them—Mr. [W. G.] Kilby’s wife and Edward’s mother know to put dinner on the table. “We’re coming home.” So anyway, that’s how I met Edward. And he had graduated from high school in June of that year, and we were moving in October. So we didn’t begin dating, because I wasn’t old enough to date for another year, year and a half.
Morris
How old were you at this time, ma’am?
Yarborough
I was 13.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
So, he had to wait on me to grow up. [laughs] That’s what he had to do. And he did. But that’s the way I met him.
Morris
Okay, ma’am. Can you tell us a little more about him, and then the rest of your family?
Yarborough
Mmmhm.
Morris
Because I know you mentioned that he was in the service, and that’s why you moved to Oklahoma for a while, ma’am?
Yarborough
Right, the draft was still very active in 1954.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
That’s whenever a young man turned 21, he could be drafted into the service for two years. So we had been dating probably three years by that time, and we knew that Edward was going to be drafted in January or February. He wanted to get married so that I could go with him after basic training to wherever he went. So that’s what we did. We got married December the 26th, 1954, and he went to the service in February. And after he had boot training, he was transferred to Little Rock, Arkansas, where I joined him for a couple of weeks, and then we moved everything out to Oklahoma. And we finished his two years out in Lawton, Oklahoma, at Fort Sill, and then came home, and he went back to work for his uncle, W. G. Kilby, on the cattle farm, cattle ranch. And we’ve been there ever since.
We raised four children, two girls and two boys, and the two boys have stayed on the ranch. They’ve got side jobs. Bo—or W. E. [Yarborough]—is the oldest boy, and he has a trucking business where he hauls cattle from one market to another out in Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Florida base. He doesn’t do that all year. There’s just certain times of the year that that goes on. Otherwise, he works on the ranch, and he’s got a little place in Alabama, a ranch up there. So he’s back and forth.
J. W. [Yarborough]’s stayed here and stayed on the farm all the time, and he’s got a fertilizer business where he puts fertilizer out on large areas, large pastures and groves. So that’s his side job. Otherwise, he’s on the ranch at all times and manages it.
Our oldest was Lynn [Yarborough]. She became a learning disability teacher, and has worked in—we’ve had the pleasure of starting three different private schools for learning disability children, through our years. J. W. had quite a learning disability problem whenever he was first started school, and there was none in Seminole County to take care of those problems, so we finally found a wonderful teacher, Mary Dunn, who helped us start PACE School. And the problem J. W. had was seeing upside-down and backwards, and glasses could not help that. You just had to retrain the mind, somehow or another, and it takes a lot of training to get that done. So in the process, as I said earlier, we had started three schools, and we got three wonderful schools. And Lynn has been a teacher. In fact, she retired this past summer. She’s taught 33 years in learning disability.
Our youngest daughter, Reba [Yarborough], lives in Sumter County, and her family has cattle over there. So, in Lynn’s retirement, she’s helping the boys on the ranch now. She works with them whenever we mark and brand. And both of the boys’ wives help give shots and some of them, and they ride a little bit too.
Yarborough
And I’ve got three grandsons: Robert [Yarborough], J. K. [James Kilby Yarborough], and C. W. Yarborough.
Morris
Are they all from the, have the same parents, or...
Yarborough
No [laughs].
Morris
Which grandkids go with which kids?
Yarborough
Okay, Bo has a son named Robert.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
He’s probably 26 now, and he works for the forestry service on Snow Hill Road, and he has a little girl, six years old, Gracie [Yarborough]. And they’re expecting a second child around December the 21st. It’ll be a little boy.
Morris
Oh, do they have a name picked out already, ma’am?
Yarborough
They do, but I can’t tell you right now. [laughs]
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Anyway, they have, then J. W. has two sons, James Kilby, which, who we call J. K. And right now he’s doing his junior year at Gainesville, in college, and a double-A student all the way across, I’m proud to say. Then C. W., who was born with a slight problem similar to his dad’s, and he’s in Bridges Academy now. That’s one of the schools that we started and is doing real well. He’s 15 years old and about 6’2”. He’s a big fellow.
Morris
Playing football?
Yarborough
He’s not playing football right now, but he does ranch rodeos.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Yeah, he has played football, but prefers the rodeos.
Morris
I gotcha.
Yarborough
They’re all interested in 4-H. J. W.’s wife is Francis Yarborough, and she is a teacher, and she is our 4-H leader, also. So we’ve got a wonderful 4-H group out our way, about 43 kids in the group. They show animals at Central Florida Fair every year.
Morris
And what does the 4-H stand for, ma’am?
Yarborough
4-H is to teach the children about agricultural. Head, heart, health, and hands is[sic] the 4 H’s.
Morris
Ah.
Yarborough
And they raise steers, pigs, chickens, rabbits, sheep, goats. They also plant gardens. You can do just about anything that you’re interested in through the 4-H program.
Morris
And how long has the program? Is it like a summer program they do for a certain amount of time?
Yarborough
No, it’s round-year, year-round.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Well, if you’re doing an animal, you don’t have to feed that animal all year, but you do about six months—six to eight months of it—of feeding the animal. Then it goes to the fair, and it’s shown and auctioned off to the highest bidder. And they buy the animals. Some people butcher the animal and eat—has it for food. Some people give it to, like the Methodist Children’s Home, for them to eat, or to the Russell House. We’ve got quite a bit of food like that donated down through the years.
Morris
Oh, okay.
Yarborough
Then they get money back to pay for the feed that they put in the animal.
Morris
And—oh, by the way, thank you very much for the—I got everybody in your family here written down. But the, um—you worked in the cattle industry, correct, ma’am?
Yarborough
I’m sorry?
Morris
You worked with the cattle as well, right? Did you start working when you came back from Oklahoma with your husband?
Yarborough
Oh, yes.
Morris
Did you go back to Piggly Wiggly for any amount of time, or did you go straight into the cattle industry, and have you stayed there the entire time?
Yarborough
No, no. I stayed home at that time, because there was[sic] quite a few older people in Ed’s family that needed to be looked after, and the only place to buy groceries back then was Sanford, which was twelve miles from Geneva, so I did the little chauffeuring back and forth of about five different older people in his family, and just helped—helped where I was needed. If we had a garden planted, I always picked the vegetables—helped pick the vegetables and can them. Back then we didn’t have too much running water, so Mondays were wash day. I’d fix a fire under the big old wash pot and heat the water, put it in the washing machine for Edward’s mother to wash clothes. Tuesdays was days to iron. You used your wash water to mop the floors with, being as conservative as we could be with the water. And Wednesdays we did other things around the house, but Mondays was always wash days, and Tuesdays was always iron day.
Morris
Did you not have indoor plumbing in your house at that time, ma’am?
Yarborough
We had both. Both.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
The outdoor was there because that’s what had been there to begin with, but they had put indoor plumbing at Edward’s home about five years before.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Before we got married.
Morris
And when did you get involved with the cattle industry, ma’am?
Yarborough
With the cattle?
Morris
Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
That was started in our area and in Ed’s family by his grandfather, E. H. Kilby, who came here from Pensacola as a young man, way back in the late 1800s. He stayed with a man by the name of C. S. Lee from Oviedo, lived in his barn and worked orange groves ‘til he got enough money to buy a little piece of land. And then after he got married and had a family of his own, the boys grew up and W. G. [Kilby], his second child, stayed with him, and they hunted hogs, wild hogs, on the St. John’s River area, and would butcher—would feed them out, and butcher them, and take them to the Piggly Wiggly and sell them. And they accumulated enough money to buy some land and buy some cows, by hunting the wild hogs. Then in 1949, Florida passed a law that all the animals had to be fenced in. So up until then, they roamed free, anywhere on the land that was in the area, and of course you wanted to keep them close to the river, because that was where they could get their water, and good grass too. So Mr. Kilby focused on purchasing land adjacent to the St. John’s River, where—so he could have water, as well as grass. And that’s what they did. They had land in Volusia County, and then he came over and bought some from Mr. C. S. Lee, along highway [Florida State Road] 46 and the St. John’s River, bordered by Snow Hill on the west side. And altogether, at one point, we had about 12,000 acres that was under fence. So, a lot of fences to keep up, ‘cause you did them different pastures for the cows to live in, and you’d circulate your cows. You don’t leave them on the same pasture all the time.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
So that’s just part of the, part of the way you work cattle.
Morris
And why would you rotate the cattle to different fenced areas, ma’am?
Yarborough
Well, they eat the grass down, and you have to give it time to grow back. And you leave them on that same place too long, they just pull it up by the roots, and then you don’t have any grass at all.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
So you rotate them about every 28 days.
Morris
Oh, that frequently?
Yarborough
Mmhmm. You can leave them a little longer, but just really depends on the weather. [laughs] Everything with farming and ranching depends on the weather.
Morris
So if it was rainier weather you’d keep them there longer, and drier weather you’d have to move them faster, because the grass wouldn’t grow as much, ma’am?
Yarborough
That would be safe to say, pretty well. Yeah. But warm nights is really when grass grows. That’s why grass grows so good down here in Florida. But the dirt—the sand is very porous, so you have to really fertilize it, and back then, they didn’t fertilize much. They didn’t know that back then. It was always native grass, but now we’ve got what’s called “improved grass.” So you fertilize the improved grass. The native grass, like on the river, grows on its own, because the river and the high water fertilizes the native grass.
Morris
And what is improved grass?
Yarborough
Argentina[sic] Bahia is one, and there’s a Pensacola Bahia, and that’s the two grasses that we use the most in our cattle ranch.
Morris
Okay, ma’am.
Yarborough
There’s a lot of different grasses, though, Joe.
Morris
Right, I just didn’t know if there was native grass in other areas…
Yarborough
Yes, there is.
Morris
Or if they had been, like, tinkered with.
Yarborough
No, we’ve cleaned—down through the years, we’ve cleaned up a lot of land, and made what’s referred to as “improved pastures.” That’s on the higher land. And so, you fertilize these places. We’ve made them into hayfields. Some of them are hayfields, and some of them are just regular pastures. But you always have to fertilize the improved pasture.
Morris
Okay. Could you tell me a little more about cattle raising, as is?
Yarborough
All right. We have what’s referred to as cow-calf operation.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
That means you raise the calf to about between six- and eight-hundred pounds, and then take it to market. Several years ago, we had cattle markets in Ocala, Webster, Kissimmee, Lakeland, and Okeechobee. We also had butcher houses at different parts of the state, but we no longer have but one butcher house, and that’s Center Hill over in Sumter County, close to Bushnell. The Ocala market is still open, and Webster is still open, and Lakeland and Okeechobee are still open. But the market that we would go to every week with our cattle was Kissimmee. That was the closest one to us. That closed about 20 years ago, now. So now we use mostly Lakeland, but we also—let me back up just a little bit. We lost Edward in the year 2000.
Morris
Okay, ma’am.
Yarborough
And there was a little bit of changing in the way that we do our cattle. As I said earlier, W. E. has two trucks that he hauls cattle out west with, so we would take our calves in his semi[-truck]s to markets out in Texas and sell them. And we continue to do that today. We had done that a little bit before Edward passed away, but not on the big scale, like the boys have changed the operation a little bit. But the cow-calf operation means that you raise a calf and sell it, and breed the cow back. So you buy registered bulls, and put them—and we have a mixed herd. Our main stock are the Brahmas[sic], because they get along so well here in Florida. They’re very tolerable of the mosquitoes and the hot weather and the rain, and such. But we have brought the English breeds in through the years, the Black Angus, and the White-Faced Hereford, and the Charolais, which is a cream-colored cow. And you cross that with the Brahmas[sic], and that makes for a good, good mama cow.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
So a good breeding cow is pretty good to raise calf for about 12 to 13 years, with good grass and good feed. A bull is probably good for maybe three to—they start breeding at three years, and they’re good for three to five years, so you have to keep bringing in new bulls. Each year, you bring in a certain amount of bulls. One bull can service about 35 cows, so you have to go according to your largest herds, to see how many, to see how large your herd is, to see how many bulls you need. A good bull would cost you between two- and three-thousand dollars. If you buy a bred heifer, which is a young cow, that will cost you between five- and seven-hundred dollars. But, if she has a calf in the next six months or so, then it’ll take six months to get that calf up to—which will put you into a year—that calf will bring back what that mother cost. Meanwhile she’s gotten bred again. Ready to have another calf. And that’s the cycle that you work through.
Morris
Okay, ma’am. And what would be the size of your herd? You said there’s one bull for every 35 cows, correct?
Yarborough
Yeah, you want it something pretty close to that.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
We’ve got about 1,000 head.
Morris
Okay, ma’am. Are you still using—do you still have the 12,000 acres?
Yarborough
No.
Morris
Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
Down through the years, for inheritance tax purposes, we’ve had to sell land. We sold everything that we had in Volusia County. And we’ve sold—we sold 9,000 acres to the State of Florida, which has been turned into a game refuge and parks. It’s overflow land that’s not really a buildable property for homes. It’s real low. But an old cow can get along real well on it, so we’ve got 1,400 acres left in the family now.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
We have leased the 9,000 acres back from the state to use for the cows. We have to pay for that lease, so much an acre, and also keep up the fences and keep up the roads, and there’s a lot of responsibility there.
Morris
Oh, okay, ma’am. I noticed you mentioned, before that, at one point in time you had this many markets and this many butcher houses. How come that number has decreased over time? Were they personally yours, or were they...
Yarborough
No. No, no, no. They were, those were the ones that we could take our animals to. They were not ours personally. Kissimmee closed because of the management, and so many people started moving into the area around Kissimmee, and Orlando, and up our way, and the cattle, the little cattle ranches, were just not existent anymore. They were building homes. We could, a farmer could make more—and a rancher could make more selling his land than he could make with the cows on the land. Does that make sense to you, Jeffrey[sic]?
Morris
It does, ma’am.
Yarborough
All right. He could sell his land, and at that time put it at interest, which was 12 percent, 8 and 12 percent interest for a number of years, years ago, and could live—could live on that, and not have to work as hard. And the real estate was paying five and six and a whole lot more for land, an acre, see. So they could have that a lot easier. So, numbers were down. Numbers were down, and that’s why markets have to close. Same with the butcher houses. Same, same thing.
Morris
Okay, ma’am. That makes perfect sense to me, sounds like supply and demand. People kind of got squeezed out with the increase in population.
Yarborough
That’s right. That’s right.
Morris
Gotcha, ma’am.
Yarborough
Now, going back into the ‘50s here in Seminole County, there was about six families that made their living on cattle, all around in Seminole County. Right now—and for the last ten years—there’s three families that make, that make their living on cows. There’s a lot of people that’s got 20 head, or 10 or 20 or 40 or 60, or 150 head of cows, but they do something on the side to make a living. They work in a grocery store, or they’re a mechanic, or something else to help them make a living. But there’s only three families that’s just made their living on the ranch, and that’s the Robert Lee family of Oviedo, Betty [Yarborough] Schlusemeyer, who is Edward’s sister in Geneva, and our ranch, Ed Yarborough Ranches, in Geneva. But they all kind of congregate around the St. John’s River. Remember I said we needed the water?
Morris
Yes, ma’am, I do.
Yarborough
So the land adjacent and joins the Econ[fina] Creek and the St. John’s River. All of these three ranches go around into that area.
Morris
And do the ranches ever, do you communicate with the other ranches often?
Yarborough
Oh, yes, definitely.
Morris
In what ways, ma’am?
Yarborough
Right now, by phone [laughs].
Morris
Well, I asked for that. I should have known that was coming, ma’am.
Yarborough
That’s okay.
Morris
I meant in what capacity? Is it like a very positive relationship? Do you help each other?
Yarborough
Yes, yes, definitely. If one group might be marking and branding, and need a little help, or they might be cutting hay, and their tractor’s breaking down, they come over and get our tractor. Or one of our boys will take the tractor and go over and bale for them. And they do the same for us.
Morris
Okay, so...
Yarborough
Yeah, it’s a very congenial atmosphere. We have a very active cattlemen’s association [Seminole County Cattlemen’s Association] in the county, and you don’t have to be a cattleman to join it, because everybody wants to—every young boy wants to be a cowboy. [laughs] But nevertheless, this is a group that is also a state group, and we get information from the University of Florida about feed, fertilizer, medicines, and all, that help us raise the cattle to the better level that it is today.
Morris
So the business has improved over time?
Yarborough
Very much. Very much. Yes. See, the cows were brought here back in the 1500s by the Spanish people.
Morris
Mmmhm.
Yarborough
And they were what we refer to now as “scrub cattle,” because they lived in the scrubs, the woods, and they were all horns and bones. They weren’t very fat. But now we have to put meat on their bones, so the steaks will turn out good. So the taste is there.
Morris
Yes, ma’am, and I do love a good steak. Do you know where your cattle end up eventually? Do you know if it’s sold in Florida, or...
Yarborough
We do have that possibility of tracing every cow where it goes to, now. That is fairly new in our particular business world, I’d say five years or so back that all of this started. That is a health precaution, because if you have some tainted meat for some reason or another, it could go back to the owners, to find out if the meat was tainted at the ground level, so to speak, before it was butchered, or at the butcher house, or in transit to the grocery store.
Morris
Right. You gotta find it.
Yarborough
So you got to find that, that situation, and so we do have that facility to do now.
Morris
Do you keep track of where your cattle go?
Yarborough
Yes.
Morris
Do you know, do they usually end up—because I know you said they transfer a lot to Texas. Do...
Yarborough
They do, and they feed them out, out there. Then they get sold again to stores and such.
Morris
Do they end up all over the place, ma’am?
Yarborough
All over. All over.
Morris
Oh, okay. I didn’t know if there was a concentration. Okay.
Yarborough No.
Morris
The Yarborough more cows tend to be in Massachusetts, where they end up in.
Yarborough
Yep.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
But we do have buyers. They buy ours sight unseen, because they know from experience that we use the good bulls, and we use the right feed and medicines and everything to keep them well. So they, they even, there’s a group that bids on ours, sight unseen.
Morris
Is that a good feeling, ma’am?
Yarborough
That’s a very comfortable feeling.
Morris
And how long has the family been in this business? How far back does that go?
Yarborough
Okay. My children—Ed’s and my children—are one, two, three, are fourth, fifth generation.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Fifth generation. And the grandchildren, C. W., J. K., and Robert, are next generation. And Gracie and her little brother will be the sixth generation. So, that’s the way it goes.
Morris
So you’re covered for now?
Yarborough
Right now.
Morris
Okay, ma’am.
Yarborough
It’s like a baseball team, almost, but you got to have help. [laughs] That’s one of the things that I take great pride in, is Edward coming through and working the kids, and working the ranch with the children, and one other man, all the years that they were growing up and all. They had to work hard, and they still do. It’s not an easy life.
Morris
It doesn’t sound easy, ma’am.
Yarborough
You don’t get just—close the gate and go on vacation. You have to, you have to stay close by.
Morris
There’s work involved?
Yarborough
There’s a lot of work involved. Have you ever dug a fence hole?
Morris
Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
Fence post hole?
Morris
Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
You ever strung barbwire?
Morris
Barbwire? Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
You know what barbwire is?
Morris
Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
Okay.
Morris
I’m in the military. We have our fair share of sharp pieces of metal that we set up.
Yarborough
Okay. Well, see, we have to grow our grass for the cows to eat. You got to provide them with water. You got to keep an eye on them, because they get sick just like we do.
Morris
Yes, okay. So it’s a very family-oriented business.
Yarborough
Very.
Morris
Not a lot of outside help, a lot of...
Yarborough
No, but we got people that we know, that if we need help, we can usually call on them. We have one hired man that works five days a week, so.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
Of course our boys, C. W.—no, J. W., and Bo—ride through all the time. They’re out there, pretty much.
Morris
Yeah, it definitely sounds like it can be a tough job.
Yarborough
It is, but it’s an interesting job. It’s rewarding. It’s rewarding in many ways, Jeff[sic]. You see that when there where the grass starts greening up after you’ve had a hard winter, and the frost has killed it and everything’s brown, and you’re feeding hay every day, and you’re feeding corn, and the ingredients that it takes to make the different types of feed we use, by the bagfuls, and spring starts coming, and the grass starts turning greener. The rains start to come. And you can smile again. But you always know it’s God’s country to begin with. You’re just the caregiver. That’s the attitude that I’ve tried to teach, and firmly believe in.
Morris
It sounds like it’s done a great job.
Yarborough
We’ve done well. We’ve been blessed.
Morris
And, I know you said one of your grandkids is 26, I think—one of the older ones?
Yarborough
Yes.
Morris
Will he be working in the cattle industry as well?
Yarborough
Oh, he helps. Yes. On his days off, it’s, and fortunately, his office is right across the street from our largest set of cow pens where we go in, off of Snow Hill Road. So, he can come over every now and then, and check on things. But on his days off, he can help us.
Morris
I thought he was a student at...
Yarborough
No, that’s the second, second one. This is the oldest one.
Morris
Gotcha. Oh okay, ma’am.
Yarborough
This is Robert, the oldest one, that works for the forestry unit.
Morris
Oh, okay.
Yarborough
And usually Mondays are his days off, because he’ll work weekends. And so, we plan to do a lot of pen work or have him riding on Mondays, when we got Robert a lot of times, ‘cause he’s a, he’s a good, big, strapping boy.
Morris
I have a question from a while ago. I just didn’t want to interrupt at the time. It was a—actually it goes even farther back, way back quite a ways, actually. You said earlier on that your husband had drafted into the service, correct?
Yarborough
Correct.
Morris
And this is in the early ‘50s—1954, I believe.
Yarborough
Yes, actually, it was ’55.
Morris
Oh, ’55, okay. Is that, was that a common occurrence at that time?
Yarborough
It was. Yes, you had the general, the boys, when they turned 21, they had to register. Or might have to register at 18, but they had to go about 21.
Morris
Definitely you get your draft card at 18, ma’am. That has not changed.
Yarborough
Oh, it hasn’t? Okay [laughs].
Morris
No, I have my draft card.
Yarborough
Okay, hut he—he had to go.
Morris
Okay. So most, almost all males at that time...
Yarborough
Back then, yes.
Morris
Oh, okay. I didn’t realize that that was still occurring after the end of World War II.
Yarborough
Yes.
Morris
Okay, I just wanted to make that clear. I didn’t know if there was an exception for him, if it was a...
Yarborough
No, no. In fact, they did make exceptions. It’s called hardship [exemption]. If a family did not, did—a lot of agriculture families did get excused, because they needed the boys on the farms.
Morris
Couldn’t afford it. Oh, okay, ma’am. But that family could, or he chose to do it regardless of...
Yarborough
Well, no, he, they didn’t give him a choice. [laughs]
Morris
Oh. Oh, the military. Okay, ma’am. I’d like to do some more general questions about your life.
Yarborough
lease.
Morris
Do you have any, any stories or childhood memories that come to mind, that you’d like to share—have recorded, ma’am? Anything that you find hilarious, or that was really important during your life as you were growing up, or even past that?
Yarborough
I was very—I have always felt I was very blessed having people in my life that would take the patience to teach me many of the things they had learned in life—older people. And my mother working, as I said earlier, I stayed with my grandmother in Oxford. I also had the opportunity to stay with a great-aunt on my mother’s side, Grace Bevel, in Bushnell. She never had children, but she accepted me as hers, and Mother let me stay with her quite a bit in my younger years. And she was a very—she was a learned person, and most willing to teach me how to crochet, how to cook, how to be good to others, and a lot of Bible verses, and rhymes. Because in her day, a lot of the teaching was done by voice, from one to the other, and singing it or either telling the stories is where doing it like the history and such. But she taught by repeating rhymes and songs and things. And states and capitals, multiplication tables. There was a railroad track right next to her house, and we had to—for me to get to play on the railroad track, between trains, I had to learn to spell certain words, big hard words, and then I could go over and walk the railroad tracks.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
And that was—like I said, we didn’t have TVs or radios, back then. We invented our own playtime and playthings. But I had Aunt Grace, and I had Granny Olberry, and my mom. Those were the close ladies in my life until we moved to Geneva, and then Edward had an aunt, Catherine Kilby, who was his Uncle W. G.’s wife. They had no children, neither. But she took a liking to me, and was just like a mother in teaching me, because she too was a schoolteacher. And then Edward’s mother, Pearl Yarborough, was like a mother to me. We called her Mama Pearl, especially whenever the children started coming. Ed and I were married four years before we had any children, because we didn’t want to live in the house with his folks and raise children. So we waited ‘til we accumulated enough money to build a house, and we were given the piece of property by Mr. Kilby to build right there between his mother and him. They put the young couple there to help the older people, is what I was told. [laughs] And we did. We worked together beautifully as a family. But go ahead.
Morris
Oh, I was going to say, are there any historical events, even international or domestic?
Yarborough
I remember the day that that Second World War was declared. I had broken my arm. I was in the third grade, doing something very foolish—the seesaws. The seesaws at school were built up about three feet high, and the boards were about twelve foot long. And I was acting like Tarzan. I was standing up on one end, and there was five girls on the other, and they would bounce me up. They would hit the ground hard with their end, bounce me up, and I’d come down, and supposed to hit the board. And I was pretty good at it, ‘til I fell one morning and broke my arm, my shoulder, right in the shoulder. And the doctors wanted to remove my arm because gangrene set in. They could not set it. At that time, Second World War was going on.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
And all the good doctors had been taken to war, so it was just a group of older doctors in Ocala. No surgeons, and my mother was pregnant with my third sister. And she just begged the doctor not to, not to take my arm off. Girls couldn’t get along without an arm. And this is—this will show you how God works. God sent up a surgeon home to Ocala, Dr. Davis, and he was home for two weeks, because they were going to ship him overseas. And Mother’s Dr. Ferguson heard that he was home, and he called him up and told him about my arm, and he said that, told him that we’re going to have to cut it off, unless he thought he could do something. He said that he didn’t have any idea what to do, but he would try. So they fashioned some type of plate to fit around the bone, because it was broken in the joint, so to speak, where the arm joints the shoulder. And it had four screws in this plate, and the operation took six hours. And that was a long operation, back then, especially. And they said I could use that plate for about a year, but then they’d have to go in there and take it out, because my bone would still be growing, and they, it wouldn’t stay properly. But it would probably never be a working arm. But, during all of this, Mother had had the baby, and she stayed home with me, and they didn’t have physical therapy that much back then, but Mother would rub this arm and exercise it, and I wasn’t let ride a bicycle, or skate, and I was a very active sports person. But today I have use of my arm.
Morris
That’s fantastic, ma’am.
Yarborough
Because of the doctors. And they did the surgery the next year, took the plate out, and I’ve got about a 14 inch scar on the arm that doesn’t bother me a bit to show. I’m proud to have the arm. But that’s, two of them—oh, and to getting back. I’m regressing. During this time, I said I remember the day that they...
Morris
World War II.
Yarborough
World War [II] was declared. I remember reading in the Bible, as a youngster, that God said He would destroy the earth the next time by fire. The first time He destroyed the earth by water.
Morris
Yes, ma’am.
Yarborough
And they talked about the atomic bomb. Maybe it wasn’t war declared. It was when they did the, dropped the atomic bomb.
Morris
At the end of the war.
Yarborough
Yes, whenever they did that, I said, “Well, that’s what’s going to have a part in God’s next coming, is the atomic bomb.” That was just my mental perception.
Morris
That stuck out to you?
Yarborough
Yes, yes.
Morris
Okay.
Yarborough
But that could have changed my whole life, too. I could have lost my arm on that deal, had Dr. Davis not come home.
Morris
That’s definitely a memory that would have stuck with me too, ma’am. Do you—we’re about to wrap up. Do you have anything you’d like to share before we go, ma’am? Anything that you feel that we overlooked or bypassed?
Yarborough
I think you’ve done a marvelous job, Jeff[sic]. I just feel it a great privilege to have had the opportunity to grow up in the little community of Geneva. Geneva is made up of a lot of older people that have retired from businesses, but they are willing to work with youngsters down through the years, through the school systems and the different community groups that we have out there, through the homemakers and the 4-H, and through the [Rural] Heritage Center and churches. I just feel very fortunate to have been put there for a reason, and I’ve tried to repay it in every way that I could by working with the youth as much as I can, all through the years. So I feel very blessed to have been there.
Morris
Thank you very much, ma’am, for coming in today.
Yarborough
Thank you.