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SAMUEL PROCTOR ORAL HISTORY PROGRAM at
the University of Florida
Interviewee: Charlotte Porter
Interviewer: David McCally
March 31, 1992
M: This is David McCally. I am interviewing Dr. Charlotte Porter at her office in the
Florida Museum [of Natural History] on the campus of the University of Florida.
Today's date is March 31, 1992. Dr. Porter, could you tell us a little bit about your
early [years]--when and where you were born and your early education?
P: I was born in New Haven, Connecticut, on May 15, 1948. I do not remember a
thing. [laughter] My early education, I suppose, is interesting, because by and large
I was schooled by nuns at a convent. Education for a good part of my life [was]
broken up by my family's frequent moves, and those moves often entailed changes
of school. I did learn how to read in England, which was a remarkable thing for an
American child. [My father was in graduate school at Oxford, England.] One of my
brothers at the time was only two, and he learned to read at the same time I did. He
was not quite toilet trained. I was four. The remarkable thing was that all our little
friends knew how to read, so we were very much in love with books at an early age.
It has certainly shaped my life, as it has my brother, who learned to read at such an
When we returned to the States, of course, we had what my parents thought were
the most beautiful English accents, which we wanted to be disabused of as quickly
as possible. We began to listen to radio westerns and "try to talk like this" [spoken
with a slow, southern accent] and so on and quickly shed our English accents that
we had acquired abroad.
My family moved to [Nashotah] Wisconsin, and I went to a public school there for a
time. It was an interesting time in Wisconsin, because it was the beginnings of the
Evinrude [outboard motor] labor strikes and the closedown of Pabst's large tenant
farms. Pabst, more famous now for its beer, was at that time a major dairy industry
and a big agribusiness, really. It employed many, many people but was laying them
off, so many of the children in our school were very, very poor. They often wore
their parents' clothes cut down. I remember constant running noses, and they would
beg for food from the food trays and often ate out of the garbage cans. I think the
greatest teachers that I have ever had in my life have been experiences with
shocking poverty. I must say I have had a number of those experiences, often
associated with my schooling, living in odd frontier outposts where my parents
seemed to prefer to live.
I went on, of course, and was parceled off to convent schools. Those are always
interesting experiences. Going to school with nuns is not always quite as repressive
as it is often described. Many of the sisters were very independent women who
lived at a point in American history where if they wanted to be artists or biologists,
particularly if they were people of perhaps not great or even average talent but just
enjoyed doing these things, [like] playing the organ, writing, let alone [working at
jobs that were traditionally for men] (Sister Prisca was a shop mechanic), the
convent was a place where those women could do all those things, and we were
taught all those things. I could operate a jigsaw perfectly well in the sixth grade and
make copper enamel jewelry and all kinds of wacky things. Of course, I could barely
read, having started off so well in England and gotten into what turned out to be a
rather "arty" education.
My parents switched [my] schools, I think somewhat horrified that I could barely read
and write at the level that I should be. I could do other things: I could play the oboe
very well, I could do Trachtenberg mathematics and all these wonderful, crazy things
that the sisters shared with us. We were all great athletes. This was a rather
unusual school in Wisconsin, and they did instill a very early sense of feminism in
me and the girls that I went to school with. It is interesting that those bonds between
those girls (it is fine to call them girls; we were girls then; we were just nine, ten,
eleven, twelve, thirteen) [have remained so strong through the years]. We are fast
friends today, even though I would say I [seldom] see or write to them. Decades
have gone by, but there was a strong bond of feminism, and many of them have had
very interesting lives. All of them are very wonderful, independent people.
I eventually went on to college, although what I really wanted to be was a
professional athlete. I was too short.
M: What sport were you interested in?
P: High jumping. [laughter] I played women's field hockey very well and was able to
continue to do that on through graduate school. I guess my great high point of my
career, besides getting a [fitness] medal from John F. Kennedy, was playing field
hockey with the all-stars. They were wonderful women, most of whom were at that
time in their forties and fifties and could outrun women half their age. They are
really remarkable people.
I went on--perhaps not surprisingly--to a women's college, Bryn Mawr, which is a
Quaker college [in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania] that is committed to pacifism and
intellectual rigor. Having been a very smart kid in high school, as we all were at
Bryn Mawr--there was not a girl there that had not been first in her class--we had the
humbling experiences of receiving C's, B-'s, rewrites, F's. It was quite a leveling
experience. We were all basically average kids. There were a couple of
exceptionally brilliant women. Even though they were only eighteen or nineteen,
they just seemed miles ahead of the rest of us. I was not really a good student. I
did well enough academically. I attended very few classes. Unfortunately, that is
something that I repeated as a graduate student. [I received an A. B. cum laude with
honors in biology in 1969.]
I feel lucky indeed to have matriculated with honors from Bryn Mawr College and to
have been accepted at Harvard University with scholarships. I enjoyed scholarships
through my entire graduate education--more scholarships than class hours, I must
confess--but I somehow managed to get a Ph.D. out of the process in 1976.
Again, those were interesting times for any American student: the Vietnam war, civil
rights. My father was very involved in civil rights. He was a Southerner, and I think
[he] was deeply moved by Dr. Martin Luther King in a way that people from the
North perhaps cannot quite understand, not having had the same growing-up
experiences that Southerners had. He participated in many marches and
encouraged his children to, also. I did quite a bit of marching--not too much
studying. [laughter] Of course, all youth, I think, were protesting the Vietnam war,
and that was a very active movement at the Quaker colleges--Bryn Mawr,
Haverford, Swarthmore [all in their namesake towns in Pennsylvania], the college
set that I moved with. Those were moving times, indeed.
Of course, when one thinks back, you hear it all playing like a great movie against a
soundtrack of rock and roll. I must confess it is hard even to walk into a grocery
store today and hear those old songs, even poorly recorded, schmaltzed up, and
just not want to sort of begin dancing with the grocery cart. Like reading, I would
say that rock and roll really shaped the whole generation of people I went to school
M: "Tin Soldiers and Nixon's Coming" [first line of the song "Ohio" by Crosby, Stills,
Nash & Young] still kind of gives you goose bumps.
My years of graduate school were interesting. I was one of three women out of a
class of two hundred accepted for graduate study in biology at Harvard University.
Of course, the program was in no way designed for women. We did not even have
bathroom facilities. Needless to say, I believe only one of those three women made
it in the biology division. One woman very quickly switched into the School of Public
Health, a very fine school. I lasted two years and moved over into the history of
science department at Harvard. It was a separate department. I believe the third
woman stayed on and completed work in developmental biology. The ideas of
science attracted me. Again, lab work did not.
My strength as a student (and I do not know how, since I can barely remember
going to chemistry class) was, amazingly enough, organic chemistry. You have to
take an exam at Harvard to get placed. Once you got in you took lots more exams.
I had these incredibly perfect scores, and up to this day I just laugh and laugh when
I think about it, because these were things every Bryn Mawr woman knew. Anyway,
I got very good treatment as a result of that. But the lab bored me. It was just
shaking and stirring, and I thought, A home ec. major I shall not be, even though it is
[all] numbers of molecules. Off I went to the more abstract, intellectually rigorous
world of ideas, and I suppose I have been there ever since--late, as usual, often
pulling no-shows. I guess as I have gotten older the one thing I have learned is I
can no longer be two places at once. [laughter]
M: So you took your Ph.D. in 1976.
M: Where did that take you as far as your career? Place emphasis on your career as a
P: Well, again, I was in a graduate school at a historically male college in a department
that was male, studying about the achievements of great men in the history of
science. In the history of science there never has been a large number of
employment opportunities. The kinds of questions and things that interested me
were already different, indeed, from the topics, models, and even the course
assignments, the way the subject matter was divided up, and I thought: Charlotte,
you have to do this dissertation. You must get through this program. You cannot
shift back to biology, although Ed Wilson, [who] was then the chair of the
department, always said there would be an open door for me if I got sick of library
Anyway, having done my dissertation on the impact of western geographical
exploration in the early part of the nineteenth century on the organization of
taxonomic sciences in biology, an obvious source of employment for me would be
museums with taxonomic collections. They have proved to be the places where I
I was fortunate while I was a graduate student. I had a wonderful job at the
American Museum of Natural History, a job that combined all the elements that
hereafter have shaped my life, which were preparing videotapes, working with
broadcasting, curating exhibitions, and doing the scholarly research and publications
both associated with the exhibitions and as a prelude to popularizing the knowledge
in the first place. I enjoy American subjects. Of course, New York had wonderful
At the museum I became very interested in television production, and I took an
interesting side loop in my career when I was employed by William Paley of CBS to
help found and start up the Museum of Broadcasting in New York City. That was a
job I had for a short period of time, for three years or so. I do have the unique honor
of being one of the few people that Mr. Paley never fired. I do not know whether
that means I was just too mediocre for him to even notice me or what.
Working in broadcasting was a total blast, and I loved it. I loved working with movie
stars, I loved working with TV producers, I loved working with the technical people,
and I learned as much as I could. Then when I did come to Florida it was wonderful
to be able to move into the world of television production on a most modest scale
myself here working with people at the television station here at the UF College of
Journalism [and Communications]. It was a wonderful arena. I loved working for
television, and I think it is a very underrated medium. Having worked in a curatorial
capacity at the Museum of (what was then) Broadcasting (today it is the Museum of
Radio and Television), I watched hours of television and listened to hours, weeks,
months, years of radio and television. It is a wonderful resource for historians and
people who are interested in communicating what they know in whatever field it is.
Here, at Florida, I felt some loose ends had come together in what had been a
rather wandering career. I had had a chapter in my thesis on William Bartram that
my major thesis adviser, who will go unnamed, told me to "suppress," I think was his
Latinate word, a kind one. He went to far as to say, "/ do not understand
romanticism, therefore you do not understand romanticism." I thought I might split a
gut. I ripped the chapter--it was at that point the second chapter in my thesis--out of
the book. I never thought I would come to Florida. I never thought I would ever see
where William Bartram had traveled in Florida. Through a fluke I became a
consultant on the William Bartram Trail Conference project that was orchestrated
under the Carter administration by the Federation of Garden Clubs here in the
South. Mrs. Charles Blanchard was very instrumental in that, as was Bob Peck of
the Academy of Natural Sciences [in Philadelphia]. I was in New York at the time
and served as a natural history consultant. All of a sudden this job opportunity
came, and here I was in Gainesville, standing on the very trail of William Bartram. I
thought, Oh, this must be meant to be. As it was, and here I am.
M: When your adviser said that he did not understand romanticism, therefore you could
not, what was the thrust? How did romanticism tie in with your study of William
P: Well, William Bartram, of course, I think was a leader of the American romantic
movement in that he was a precursor; he came before, opening the way, as it were,
for other poets and writers. We know that [William] Wordsworth and [Samuel
Taylor] Coleridge, the English lake poets, perhaps the most famous of the English
romantic poets, were reading Bartram from the beginning and used his language
and descriptions in the poems. One poem by Coleridge--I believe it is called "The
Lime Tree, My Bower," or maybe it is "My Lime Tree, The Bower"--has a footnote to
William Bartram, so it [the Bartram influence] is not something I am reading into it. It
is clearly there. Wordsworth's poem "Ruth" is very clearly lifted right out of the
Travels [by Bartram]. It talks about a young man who lands on the Georgia shore
and attempts to woo a woman with botany, with descriptions of flowers. The young
man is dressed in a very romantic fashion, in the costume of an Indian that appears
is an illustration in the book. Wordsworth very carefully describes the little feather
headdress and so on that Bartram had earlier just as equally carefully drawn in that
portrait of the warrior, which is, by the way, one of our earliest, if not the earliest,
representation of a Seminole Indian man.
M: So you were hired at the University of Florida in what year?
P: [It was] 1982. I was hired as a result of an interview with Gene Hemp, for whom I
have the highest regard. Those were difficult times, I think, for hiring here at the
museum. [The museum] was just beginning an attempt to get scholarly strength in
all three departments, not just simply the largest department, which was the
Department of Natural Science. I think Gene Hemp really wanted to make sure that
new faculty members of the museum had Ph.D.s, were serious scholars, and would
be true contributions, not just to the rather specialized work we do here at the
museum, but to the life of the University as a whole.
I remember it was a wonderful discussion. We talked, of all things, about starting an
art history department. He at that time expressed his commitment to establishing a
viable program in the study of art history here at the University of Florida. I think, of
course, the Harn Museum is a tribute to that early commitment. Of course, that has
little to do with me, but I think he sensed an ally in me. It was a very interesting
conversation, one that I remember [well]. As I said, I have the highest regard for
Gene Hemp. He has been a very strong friend of the museum. I think he honestly
understands what the museum does: its public work, its commitment to natural
history, the importance of natural history.
Natural history is peculiar because it is not a hard science. It is a blend; it is an
interdisciplinary study. As its nature implies, it depends on history or stories, written
descriptions of things, written accounts in the English language or any other
language that it is written in. It also depends on scientific study and observations of
plants and animals. It depends on illustration, whether [or not] it be in the traditional
sense of an artist's drawing [of] specimens. Today, often electron micrographs or
other images are substituted. But natural history brings together the visual response
to nature, the literary response to nature, and, if you will, the scientific response.
Science in its broadest sense, of course, involves experiments, collections,
mathematical analyses. If you go downstairs [in this building] you will see people
making population studies, carbon dating, and so on. I think to understand what
natural history really is and its relationship to ecology, to environmental studies, to
zoology, to medicine, to society in the larger sense, one has to appreciate the
interdisciplinary nature of the beast, if you will.
I think we are fortunate here at the University of Florida in that we have a very
tolerant university community. Often a natural history museum is regarded as some
fuddy-duddy, antiquarian building on campus--a dust bag, if you will--and I think this
University has made a commitment to the museum. I think its size, the interesting
nature of the building (whatever its shortcomings), the quality of the faculty that are
at this museum [are testaments to that commitment]. I must say as a faculty
member here it is an honor to have such outstanding, vigorous, and rather liberal
colleagues. I enjoy it very much.
M: In addition to working here at the museum, you teach courses or have taught
courses in the history of science in the history department.
P: Almost every faculty member here at the museum has an affiliate appointment in at
least one other department, and we all teach on a regular basis, if not frequently. It
is important. Teaching is one way we recruit students. It is another way we share
our knowledge. Quite frankly, I feel it is something we need to do to be part of this
University. We benefit from all the other benefits of the University, so I like to do it. I
enjoy students. I happen to like teaching big jungle classes; I just do. I enjoy
smaller seminars, too, but I think it is a lot of fun working with large numbers of
undergraduates. It is somewhat of a challenge.
One of the courses I have taught for the history department is the "skateboard tour"
of the history of science, beginning with Egyptian mummies and taking them right to
Newton. You fly along, and it is interesting to see how students today in Gainesville,
Florida, respond to the ideas of Aristotle and Plato and thinkers of the Middle Ages.
M: You are not only a faculty member here, but you are a woman faculty member here.
Do you see that as making your job here at the University different?
P: Well, I think many other women have said this in many other ways, but it is
absolutely true. I feel that everything I do I must do more of at a higher level for the
same reward. In preparing my package, which was successful, for tenure and
promotion, I tried to make it ironclad. I tried to have all of the recommended
components--and then more. I feel that is necessary. I feel that is less true in 1992
than it was in 1972 because the world, fortunately, has changed in some regards.
But often in the past women did not have the same collegial network or sort of a
buddy system to see them through tenure and promotion. I think that is no longer
true. I think the University of Florida is very fair, or at least this museum is fairly fair
and square, in its assessment of candidates for tenure and promotion.
I do not feel that at this museum women have been discriminated against.
I will say this, that at this museum women [who are up] for tenure and promotion
really have to wait until their last year. We do not have the success at getting
promoted after three or four years of service. Quite frankly, promotion to full
professor is where you see the real lag. Tenure is not the problem here. That is a
cut-and-dried process. You either make it or you do not. But I do think the next
jump to full professor is harder for women at the museum than it is for professors in
short pants at this institution. If I voted on them they would not be full professors.
They were not, quite frankly, mature enough. I take full professorship as a very
serious thing. I see it as an acknowledgment of a mature scholar in the complete
sense of that word. Those are my views on that subject.
M: Did you find it more difficult to gain employment in the academic world because you
are a woman?
P: Yes. This is no longer true, but I graduated from college in that first wave of
feminism. I remember when I was in Bryn Mawr College, one of the top women's
colleges in the country. At that time women who were in the top third, fourth, fifth, or
whatever of their class with good Graduate Record [Examination scores went to
graduate schools] that were many notches down from the caliber of school that Bryn
Mawr was. That is no longer true today. I was unusual. I was one of the few
women from Bryn Mawr who got to go to a school like Harvard University. I am not
sure how that really happened, because I did not have the grade averages that
some of those women had, and I did not have the mind that some of those women
had. But I was fortunate. Today that is not so true. I think it is much more fair. But
that was the first hurdle, and I somehow managed to get into a graduate school that
was at the same level as my college was: excellent.
I was careful to make sure that I always had employment. There were a lot of
people--men and women--who as graduate students [worked very hard at outside
jobs]. I also taught while I worked. I just made sure I had a job. It was a full-time
job at the American Museum of Natural History. I also taught at Boston University.
Quite frankly, I took an afternoon off [to do that]. It was a night class. I would get on
the bus, I would ride there, I would teach the class, I would go to the bus station at
midnight, ride back on the bus to New York City, arrive down there in "Hell's
Kitchen" on Eighth Avenue at four in the morning, go home and maybe sleep for two
hours, and I would go to work. It was tough going, but I think a lot of graduate
students, men and women, have worked every bit as hard. I just made sure it
happened. If it was physically inconvenient for me, so be it. And it was physically
inconvenient for me. I was tired a lot. But I survived. I also had a course in New
York City to which I walked. [laughter]
M: Did you have a long search to actually secure an academic position? How many
universities did you interview with before you arrived at the University of Florida?
P: Well, of course I had taught for years. I had taught at the University of Missouri in
Kansas City, and I had taught at Boston University. While I was a curator at the
Museum of Broadcasting I also was a faculty member at New York University,
where I taught. So I made sure I had a paying [job] and an academic affiliation.
Maybe it was the category of adjunct or visiting professor, but it was bona fide and it
kept me in the academic world. Of course, it developed my skills as a teacher and
helped me understand the way academia works, which is very different, indeed,
from the way many museums work.
I also did an enormous amount of contract consulting, which I loved. It is a
temptation, quite frankly, to return to that world, a world of freedom that is very
creative and a world of rest. So I did not have those bad moments that I saw some
of my friends have where they would be unemployed for periods of years. I could
not understand that. I have never had trouble getting employment, but I have made
M: That is my next question. It sounds to me like your academic and professional
career has been analogous to the notion of the supermom that seems to plague so
many ambitious women in today's time. Do you believe that it is necessary for
women, even in 1992, to outperform men?
P: No, not in all areas the way I think it was a decade or two decades ago. But I think
in some areas, yes. I have pointed out [that] here at the museum I think it is
necessary to outperform to achieve full professorship in a timely fashion. Otherwise
you just wait, and it sort of happens in an untimely fashion. In other words, it is
hard, I think, for women to become "dead wood." I would love to become a piece of
dead wood. It is just that old habits are hard to break. We might be more
acceptable; we might be viewed as more collegiate if we slow down a little bit,
M: Do you think women within the [State] University System have altered the university
P: Absolutely. I think there are more women in more departments, although I do not
think gender balance has been achieved anywhere. It certainly has not been
achieved at the museum or the history department. But I think efforts have been
made. I think at least half of the students at the University of Florida are women,
and they need role models. They want role models. I also think the male students
want female role models. It is not just a matter of gender. It is also a [matter of]
pluralism and multiculturalism. I think people want to ask new kinds of questions
and look at other ways of analyzing data.
I deal with students all the time searching for topics for dissertations, senior
dissertations, master's [theses], Ph.D.s, and it is wonderful to see that people are
really looking at new kinds of subject matters that would not have even been
questions at the time I was in graduate school. I think that is very exciting. I would
like to think that women, that minority professors, that professors from other
countries have played a role in that. I would also like to think of it as being student-
driven. I think students themselves are demanding change. It is not simply that the
faculty is sensing that it needs to change itself. I attribute a lot to students.
M: With the rumblings that many people see on the right and what some people term
the "artificial debate" over political correctness, how do you see that as impinging on
your personal career or on academia in general?
P: Political correctness is an interesting issue, indeed, in a publicly funded museum.
The choice of words, the choice of message is something I deal with every moment
of my life here, because one of my major jobs is to write labels, to generate the copy
that goes on the walls with museum artifacts. I have become increasingly tempted
simply to present museum objects with labels the way they used to be. If it is a
sparrow, you label it as a sparrow. If it is a 'possum, [you label it as a 'possum].
You give the life history of the animal instead of trying to encompass these plants
and animals in a narrative. One, the narrative will obsolete in a few years, both from
a scientific and a social point of view. [Two,] the narrative will reflect the biases--if
only the interests and enthusiasms--of the person who wrote it. So yes, I think
constantly about political correctness and terminology. We have to here.
We do not hit the mark every time. I think we have had some exhibits here that no
longer spoke to people, that some people found outright objectionable, and we
responded to that by removing [the exhibits]. These changes were long overdue.
We ourselves were tired of their messages. I do not fool myself, though. I will be
tired of my own message in about ten years, and the public will tire of it a lot sooner.
I think it is good.
I like the criticism and the response of the public. It lets me know that yes, people
are reading the labels and that our work has an audience. It would be frightening to
me, indeed, if nobody read the labels. So the criticisms we get, the kind of
controversy that an exhibit like "First Encounters" churns up happen because people
are coming to the museum, looking at the labels, and perhaps not liking the thrust of
the story. They have an intellectual right to do that. I like to see that ferment at a
university museum, because it is an intellectual ferment. I think it is important that it
goes on. It is good for us.
M: In your career, since you have been here at the University of Florida, have you had
any opportunities closed to you because of your gender?
P: I could not put it quite that way. As I said, I think the pay scale for promotion is
something that is on a different timetable for women than men.
M: But you have never run into a situation where perhaps a project has been closed to
you or perhaps a particular sponsor of a project has preferred a male?
P: No. There have been situations, yes, but I prefer not to discuss them. Certain
things can happen to young women faculty members that would never happen to a
man, [such as] the museum faculty sharing space in an inappropriate way [or] being
asked to do certain kinds of tasks like preparing food [and] cleaning up rooms before
public lectures. A man would not ask another man to do that.
M: What do you see for your future? Full professorship? When you say that you might
be tired of your own message in ten years, what does that mean?
P: I would like to think that I will continue to grow intellectually. You reach that point in
life when you realize that you are getting stupider every year, not brighter. I do think
the University of Florida is an interesting school in that it does not absolutely
compartmentalize its scholars. We have people here that have made shifts in their
research that no one could have expected. The University for a long time used to
encourage that with faculty development grants. Those have dried up in our fiscal
crisis, but I find that [shift] an exciting possibility at the University of Florida.
I do not really know where I will be in a decade. I do not know whether I will be a
museum curator or a university professor. Quite frankly, in my own career, this has
been a training ground for me. I am a public servant. I have been one my whole
life, and I see public service as my future. The crystal ball is still cloudy, but I would
enjoy doing public service again in a larger arena than perhaps I enjoy now.
M: Are there any other topics that you would like to address that perhaps I have not
P: I think one other issue that is of topical concern is safety for women. Anyone like
myself who has come from New York City is immediately aware of it the minute they
set foot on the campus. You asked about a gender issue or things that affect your
life here. This campus is unsafe for all people. It is particularly unsafe for women
students, women faculty members, women museum visitors, women security
guards, women custodians, and others who move around at odd hours. It is often
true that women assistant faculty members are those who get stuck teaching night
classes [and have to move around] poorly lit buildings with absolutely no security--
no phones or emergency services of any nature. Women custodians move through
these buildings before dawn. We have night functions at the museum, and only in
recent times were the lights that you see around you installed. There is now a pay
phone outside of the museum so that someone waiting for a lift that did not show
can make a call. I was very aware of that years ago and often said jokingly I was
more fearful here than I ever was in New York City. Security in the Sunshine State
is an issue that nobody wants to deal with, and it can be a low-budget issue.
M: I think in many ways to worry about public safety kind of attacks the image of
Florida. It is something that in a tourist state people do not want to talk about.
P: Yes. I think we have to stop thinking of Florida as a tourist state. Tourism is coming
to an abrupt end. Florida is no longer the citrus state, either. We never thought we
would all live to see that. I am sure if you had interviewed me ten years ago [I would
not have made such a statement], even though the citrus line had moved to the
Marion/Alachua County border the year I moved here. It has now been pushed way
to the south. We never thought we would really see it pushed out of the state
altogether. There will always be some citrus here, but it is no longer our number-
one crop. We cannot brag on it anymore. And tourism is going to change. I think
you put your finger on it: we have to stop thinking about ourselves as a tourist state.
We have to think about Florida as a place where real people live, and,
unfortunately, real people get killed.
M: Yes. Well, thank you very much for your time.
P: I hope that is OK.