THE JOURNAL OF THE HISTORICAL
ASSOCIATION OF SOUTHERN FLORIDA
Editor, Charlton W. Tebeau
By Ruby Leach Carson
Miami in 1926
By Frank B. Sessa
Mango Growing Around Early Miami
By Harold W. Dorn
A Seminole Personal Document
By William C. Sturtevant
The Treasurer's Report
List of Members
List of Officers
COPYRIGHT 1956 BY THE HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION OF SOUTHERN FLORIDA
C7 7IL4e is published annually by the Historical Association of Southern Florida
U *and the University of Miami. Subscription $3.00. Communications
should be addressed to the Corresponding Secretary of the Society, 1340 duPont Building,
Miami 32, Florida. Neither the Association nor the University assumes responsibility for
statements of fact or opinion made by contributors.
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Miami: 1896 to 1900
By RUBY LEACH CARSON
While the founding of the city of Miami in the year 1896 was the
ultimate result of several national trends, the one connected directly with the
development of the Florida east coast southward to Miami was the tourist
rush of the eighties.
Florida in the eighties was rediscovered.
While many "unreconstructed" Floridians of the decade referred to this
influx of northerners as "the second Yankee invasion", (the Union Army
invasion of the sixties having been the first), they nevertheless rejoiced in the
recognition which the state's warm winter climate was receiving. Not only
invalids, but vacationists and wealthy pleasure-seekers were coming in increas-
This trend brought the Standard Oil millionaire, Henry M. Flagler, on
a honeymoon trip with his second wife during the winter of 1883-84. Most
of their time was spent in St. Augustine, where Flagler was planning to make
his home. Although he was only fifty-three at the time, he was thinking of
retiring from activity with the Standard Oil Company.
Flagler's biographer, Sidney Walter Martin, wrote that on this trip
Flagler was impressed by the Florida East coast's need of a benefactor; but
that the capitalist's only plan at the time was to return to St. Augusine the
following year and begin building the luxurious Ponce de Leon Hotel.
Work on this project in 1885 showed the need of better transportation,
hence Flagler purchased and improved the narrow gauge railroad which ran
between Jacksonville and St. Augustine. Thus began the development of the
Flagler's railroad and resort hotels down the east coast of the Florida penin-
sula. Although in 1892 he obtained a charter to extend his railroad as far
south as Miami, his reaction upon occasions when pressed to do this would
indicate that he had no real plan. It remained for Miami's Julia Tuttle, with
the aid of the three Big Freezes in 1894-95, to influence him to do this.
Neither Flagler nor the State of Florida would have been ready for this
Florida east coast development in the seventies. Nor would Miami's co-
founder, Mrs. Tuttle, have had title to the city's future site, with the land-bait
of alternate sections all ready for the entrapment of a railroad man who
would make possible a city. These three-Florida, Flagler and Julia Tuttle,
were not yet ready in the seventies to merge their interests.
The trend in the north which produced capitalists like Rockefeller and
Flagler was a part of the great national economic expansion that had fol-
lowed the War Between the States. While Flagler was busy in the seventies
developing the Standard Oil Company and amassing his great fortune, the
State of Florida was first writhing under the heel of Carpetbag Rule, and
later emerging from the economic, social and political miseries which the
War had brought upon her.
While this was going on, Mrs. Julia Tuttle's father, Ephriam T.
Sturtevant, in a small way was following the land-grabbing trend of the times
and was homesteading land on Biscayne Bay, in the Lemon City area. He had
come from Cleveland, Ohio, with William B. Brickell, who began homestead-
ing land south of the mouth of the Miami River.
Early Dade County courthouse records show that Sturtevant was active
in local politics. He is shown in 1872 to have been a Judge of the County
Court of Dade County that year, as well as one of the Board of Inspectors
in the November, 1872, election, and also a successful (by two votes!)
candidate for the State Senate from the Dade-Brevard district.
Although Julia Tuttle visited her father in the seventies, the illness of
her husband, Frederick Leonard Tuttle, in Cleveland had kept her there,
managing his business interests. This business experience was to be used in
Miami's behalf later. Through her father's inside information concerning the
economic plight of the State of Florida during the years he was state senator
(1872-73 and 74), Mrs. Tuttle watched developments with a trained eye.
After the death of both husband and father, by 1886, she remained alert for
the proper time to push a development around Biscayne Bay, near the Miami
By 1881 the State of Florida was in a position to offer inducements to
railroads badly needed for the opening up and developing of central and
southern Florida. This improved economic condition resulted from the sale
of State-owned lands to Hamilton Disston for enough money to lift the lien
RUBY LEACH CARSON
against all state-owned lands designated for internal improvements. Florida
could now make grants of alternate sections of lands to railroads, along the
line the roads followed. Henry B. Plant took advantage of this gift of land
and by 1884 had extended the South Florida Railroad from Sanford, through
Orlando, Kissimmee and Lakeland to Tampa.
By 1891 Mrs. Tuttle had envisioned a city at the mouth of the Miami
River, where the Fort Dallas buildings were standing, and was buying the
land. Her first bid for a railroad was revealed by James E. Ingraham, who
was at that time the president of Henry B. Plant's railroad in Florida. It
was upon Mrs. Tuttle's return to Cleveland to prepare to move to Florida,
that she invited the Ingrahams to her home for dinner. She then told him
about her land and expressed the belief that someday a railroad would be
built to the Miami River. She hoped the railroad would be his; but to
whatever railroad came, she said, she would give enough land for a town site.
Ingraham was sufficiently interested later to make a survey, but he found
that plan impractical.
In the early nineties, Mrs. Tuttle made this offer of land for a town site
to Mr. Flagler-not once, but frequently. The Brickells joined her, offering
some of their land also for a town. There came a time, of course, when the
offer was gladly accepted.
The "Big Freezes" of December 24 and 28, 1894, and February 6, 1895,
had by their combined disastrous effects upon the citrus and vegetable indus-
try brought ruin and suffering at every turn. The desolation about him and
the sight of settlers deserting their homes and returning north, drove the
unhappy Flagler to action.
Of course Mrs. Tuttle took advantage of this situation to send word to
him that these freezing temperatures had not touched the Miami River area.
Flagler sent her old friend, James E. Ingraham, who was now his land com-
missioner, to investigate. The famous bouquet of orange blossoms which Mr.
Ingraham took back to Flagler at St. Augustine-a bouquet which Ingraham
and Mrs. Tuttle had picked, was all the added inducement Flagler needed.
Here was proof, beautiful and fragrant, that there had been no freeze in the
Biscayne Bay area. So he would extend his railroad south from Palm Beach,
where it had terminated in 1894.
The marker which the Historical Association of Southern Florida dedi-
cated to Mrs. Tuttle at S. E. First Avenue and Third Street, Miami, on July
25, 1952, tells the story briefly:
"Mrs. Julia D. Tuttle of Cleveland, O., acquired 644 acres on
the north bank of the Miami River in 1891. She resided in the
remodelled officers' quarters of old Fort Dallas 100 yards S. E.
of this spot until her death Sept. 14, 1898.
"With rare foresight and energy, she persuaded Henry M.
Flagler to extend his railroad to Miami in 1896.
"As inducement, Mrs. Tuttle gave him 100 acres for a railroad
terminal and hotel and 263 acres in alternate city blocks (more than
half her land), thus earning her fame as 'The Mother of Miami'."
U. S. Senator Scott M. Loftin, in dedicating the marker, said that such
astute and far-sighted business men as John Egan, Richard Fitzpatrick,
William F. English, Dr. J. V. Harris and members of the Biscayne Bay Com-
pany had purchased one after another the property on which Miami now
stands, yet failed to realize that they held the site of a future city in their
"It remained," said the senator, "for a wise and remarkable woman to
envision its possibilities."
The railroad had reached as far south as the site of Fort Lauderdale
when on March 3, 1896, Flagler sent John Sewell with a crew of twelve
Negroes to Miami "to start the city," as Sewell describes his assignment in
his book "Memoirs and History of Miami, Florida". Sewell came on one of
the two boats which were running at that time from Fort Lauderdale into
Miami through the canal which had just been completed into Biscayne Bay.
He had brought along his younger brother, E. G. Sewell, "to start a store in
the new settlement."
With his letter of introduction to Mrs. Tuttle, John presented himself to
the "Mother of Miami" and began consulting with her about the proposed
Royal Palm Hotel site and its boundaries, and the city boundaries.
"I found Miami all woods," he wrote. The Sewell brothers were unable
to get immediate lodging at the Miami Hotel, which Mrs. Tuttle was erecting
on Miami Avenue near the River. Fortunately, there was a floating hotel, the
steamboat Rockledge, operated by one Captain Vail, so they stayed there
until they could move to the Miami Hotel. This boat had been following
the Flagler construction work.
Miami had begun to experience growing pains from the moment
Flagler's first crews of engineers and surveyors arrived. They were housed
in tents. John Sewell found that Mrs. Tuttle had opened up Miami Avenue
from the river north to 14th Street and that on this clearing were several
shacks and tents.
RUBY LEACH CARSON
One month before, on February 6, Isidor Cohen had arrived with mer-
chandise for a store. Under the date of February 8, 1896, in his published
diary, Cohen wrote: "A bank is about to be opened. Dr. Graham is planning
to publish a newspaper which will be named the Metropolis. Buildings are
springing up in every direction as if by magic." Cohen opened his store on
the south side of the River on February 12.
On March 26, 23 days after their arrival, the Sewell brothers opened a
shoe store, the first store to be located north of the Miami River. Eight hours
later, J. E. Lummus opened a general store. Then came the Townley Brothers
Drug store and the F. T. Budge Hardware store. Dr. James M. Jackson was
invited to come from Bronson, Fla., to start a Miami practice, an invitation
which the doctor accepted.
The following month, on April 15, 1896, the first train arrived in Miami.
The event is described by J. N. Lummus in his book, "The Miracle of Miami
Beach". J. N. (brother of J. E.), had come here from Bronson, Fla., and
"remained in Miami until after the first train of the Florida East Coast Rail-
way puffed its way into the village over wobbly tracks," and he added that
"the old wood burning engine, with its big bell top, was spouting smoke and
the whistle and the bell were going full tilt."
Beside the locomotive, that first train into Miami consisted of a mail
coach, baggage car, day coaches (first and second class) and a chair car.
Cohen's diary shows that Miami's railroad station was first located on its
present site, then moved to the bay near N. E. 6th Street.
It was logical that with a train to bring printing equipment, a news-
paper would be the next big event in the new town; but the Miami Metropolis
did not get out its first issue until exactly a month later, on May 15. It was
as Cohen wrote, "a Flagler paper", and its publishers were Dr. Walter S.
Graham, an attorney, listed as editor; and Wesley M. Featherly, listed as local
editor. This paper was the forerunner of the Miami Daily News. The early
issues, available for reading on microfilm, along with the memoirs of several
pioneers, provide local historians with plentiful and rich source material for
reconstructing the pioneer days.
The Bank of Bay Biscayne had opened up May 3, in time to get good
press notices in the paper's first issue. The president was William Mark
Brown and Julia Tuttle was one of the directors. The editor's "plug" for
Mrs. Tuttle is a measure of the respect which the publishers held for her
TEQ U ES TA
The restrictions which Mrs. Tuttle demanded in connection with the sale
of lots were mentioned by several writers of the day as the cause of some
grumbling. No liquor could be sold within the city limits. There was a fire
clause, a provision for residences to be placed at least 25 feet back from the
street line and a clause for the confining of factories and colored people in
certain areas. Her daughter, Miss Fannie Tuttle, and her son, Harry, were of
great assistance to Mrs. Tuttle in her various projects. A. E. Kingsley was
her general agent.
The stage was now set for the incorporation of the city. The Metropolis
reminded its readers that there was need of a strong municipal government
as soon as possible. It stated that there would be 1,500 people there before
the first of July (1896). On July 28, the community's 343 voters met and
elected Flagler's architect, Joseph A. McDonald, as chairman. The voters
then elected McDonald's son-in-law, John B. Reilly, as mayor and established
boundary lines and approved an official seal.
The above election had not been conducted without some preliminary
plotting and scheming between the town's two factions-the Flagler, or
"corporation" crowd, and the anti-corporationists. Cohen, belonging to the
antis, complained: "The railroad crowd is certainly taking control of politics
in this neck of the woods." The Metropolis was a Flagler paper until 1905,
when it was purchased by S. Bobo Dean. In 1923 Dean sold it to James M.
Cox, and its name was changed to the News.
Katherine and Alfred Jackson Hanna gleaned some delightful angles of
those times for their book "Florida's Golden Sands." Since the railroad
owned the public utilities, interesting complaints were received because of
poor service. "The generative plant often gave out and plunged the city in
darkness," wrote the Hannas. "The boiler plant of the utility, using pine
wood and coal for fuel, gave forth gasses and soot."
"Probably," continued these writers, "no other town along the Flagler
line of march kicked more strenuously against its benefactor; at least there
is no evidence of so much critical agitation in other communities which owed
their growth to the same source."
Cohen listed the leaders of the anti-corporation faction as being John M.
and Thomas L. Townley, Sam Fitts, John Frohock, Guy Metcalf of West
Palm Beach, and, of course-himself. Although Cohen added promptly, he
"entertained the highest respect for Henry M. Flagler personally". Cohen
looked forward to a promised people's newspaper. "Then," he concluded,
"watch the fur fly."
RUBY LEACH CARSON
Besides the Flagler water and light systems, the city by the end of 1896
had a city hall, a jail and a volunteer fire department. Miami Avenue was
lined on both sides with stores and Julia Tuttle had started the first laundry,
the first bakery and the first dairy. John Seybold, later of bakery fame, was
then a restaurant proprietor. Dr. P. T. Skaggs had started a medical practice.
Attorneys mentioned in the first issue of the Metropolis were those in the
firm of Robbins, Graham & Chillingworth of Juno, which was the seat of
Dade County. This firm set up a Miami branch office. Also in Miami in the
early days were Attorneys G. A. Worley, Robert R. Taylor, Redmond B.
Gautier, Judge H. F. Atkinson, Mitchel D. Price, Judge J. T. Sanders and
John Sewell's invaluable memoirs list the real estate agents in the order
of their coming: F. S. Morse, E. A. Waddell, A. E. Kingsley, John B. Reilly
and Robbins & Graham. He said that Morse was agent for the railroad lands
and that Reilly handled Flagler lots on both the Brickell and Tuttle sides of
the River. Flagler was to get one-half of all the city lots, Mrs. Tuttle one-
fourth and the Brickells one-fourth.
The Brickell family, which donated to the city as much land on the
south side of the river as Mrs. Tuttle gave on the north side, was an impor-
tant factor in the history of Dade County. The family consisted of Mr. and
Mrs. William B. Brickell and three sons-Charles, Clinton and Wm. B., Jr.;
and four daughters-Edith M., Belle B., Maude E. and Alice. They owned
an unbroken tract of hammock land from the Miami River southward for
three miles, almost to Coconut Grove. Alice Brickell was postmistress, and
her father operated a trading post.
Lack of space prevents mention in this brief sketch of all of the pioneers
who helped develop the city. Lemon City was enjoying growth and a winter
colony in the Coconut Grove area had been thriving since the late eighties.
Social life there centered about the Biscayne Bay Yacht Club, of which
Commodore Ralph M. Munroe was president and the noted author, Kirk
Munroe, was secretary. The Peacock Inn was popular with the bay's winter
visitors before Miami was incorporated.
Thus the city of Miami, a planned city with tourism its expected destiny,
ended its first year and began its second year in 1897 with the mid-January
formal opening of Flagler's hotel, the Royal Palm. This picturesque hotel
on the bay north of the mouth of the Miami River immediately made Miami
a resort of national importance. Visitors with yachts could bring them right
up to the Royal Palm Hotel docks through the channel which Flagler had
cut across the bay.
In 1897 three more physicians were available in the area, Dr. R. H.
Huddleston, Dr. Edwin W. Pugh and Dr. Eleanor Gault Simmons. Dr. John
Gordon DuPuis began practicing in Lemon City in 1898.
An issue of the Metropolis dated May 15, 1897 said that Tom Peters
(who during the boom was to buy the Halcyon Hotel) had made $2,350 on
a tomato crop he had planted in the fall of 1896. He shipped 1,175 crates
at $2.00 each.
The Metropolis gave the 1897 Miami population figures as two thousand,
with an expectation of an extra thousand during the next tourist season. It
boasted that Miami was the only city on the east coast south of St. Augustine
with a sewerage system; it had the most paved streets and a good waterworks
system, an ice factory, four good hotels, a bank and six church organizations.
Moreover, said the paper, "Miami is a moral city. There are no saloons in
the place." On February 3, 1898, a Board of Trade was organized.
An unplanned destiny for the new city of Miami, but one which was
forseen by Mrs. Tuttle, made its appearance before Miami was two years of
age. This was its projection into inter-American affairs as a result of its
proximity to the Caribbean countries. Although the Cuban insurrection had
touched the Florida coastline through filibustering activities, the United
States did not intervene in Cuba's behalf until Congress declared war against
Spain on April 25, 1898.
Many Americans, such as Florida's United States Senator Wilkinson
Call, had been articulate in a desire for American intervention during the
Cleveland administration. Historians of the period state that Cleveland side-
stepped the issue in protest against the trend of imperialism which had swept
the nation. Shortly after the battleship Maine was sunk by the Spanish on
February 15, McKinley, who was then president, asked Congress to declare
Local writers of the period say that Miamians feared an attack from
the Spaniards, although no warship could get into the shallow channel. It
was common knowledge, however, that some of the filibustering ships which
carried supplies to Cuba were loaded at New River, the site of Fort Lauder-
dale. The Metropolis of May 21, 1897, had mentioned one such trip by the
Dauntless and had hinted at others.
From the time the insurrection had flared up in Cuba in 1895, the
Cuban refugees had organized juntas in Key West, Tampa and Jacksonville.
RUBY LEACH CARSON
Floridians cooperated with these refugees in providing arms, ammunition and
men and sending them to Cuba for defense against Spanish oppression and to
help secure Cuban independence. Most famous of the filibustering ships was
The Three Friends, operated by Napoleon Bonaparte Broward, who would
later be governor of Florida.
Describing the effect on Miamians of this war, Helga H. Eason in her
article, "Sand in Their Shoes" which appeared in the Wilson Library Bulle-
"The Spanish-American War was hard on the new city. A near
panic existed when the cream of Miami's young men marched off to
train in Tampa, and the citizens expected fully that Spanish war-
ships would fire on the city. But it was not the Spanish that wreaked
havoc, but the American Army, for seven thousand soldiers were
sent in to protect the 1,500 civilians. It was the citizens who had
to protect themselves against the soldiers, for they molested wives,
broke into homes, shot coconuts off trees, shot and slashed whites
and Negroes alike. The encamped army profited business men and
doctors, but women were not safe on the street after dark."
Cohen wrote that the soldiers "kept things extremely lively for several
months", and Sewell's memoirs carry an account of the organizing and
drilling of Minute Men. Any male Miamian from the age of 16 up was
eligible to take part in these nightly drills.
Sewell wrote that the first prize ship captured from Spain during the
Spanish-American War was brought to the Miami dock. It was the Cocoa,
and had been purchased by Flagler. According to Sewell, the first Spanish
prisoners brought to American soil were landed here and that the whole city
went to the dock to see the Spanish general and his soldiers transferred from
boat to train. "The Spaniards did quite a business selling their money,
trinkets and even the buttons on their uniforms to Miami citizens for sou-
venirs," he wrote.
Miamians were saddened during this trying time by the sudden death
of the city's co-founder, Mrs. Julia Tuttle. Her death on September 14 fol-
lowed an illness of only a few hours.
Tragedy struck the city in 1899 in the form of a yellow fever epidemic.
On October 22 of that year, the State Health Officer, Dr. Joseph Y. Porter,
quarantined Miami. His public proclamation and some of his reports of the
epidemic to the State Board of Health have been made available by Dr.
John G. DuPuis in his book "History of Early Medicine in Dade County".
Dr. Porter's quarantine statement, with its suggestion for depopulation,
is worth reading today. "Five distinct cases of yellow fever have been seen,"
Dr. Porter stated, "and from clinical histories submitted there are doubtless
several others. The infection is distributed over the town, mild in character,
but unmistakable in recognition. To limit the spread of and destroy the
infection as rapidly as possible, a depopulation of Miami is recommended."
Dr. Porter presented his plan for this.
"If fifty or more persons will leave for Hendersonville, N. C., which
place will admit yellow fever refugees from this section," he said, "a special
through train will be provided by the East Coast Railway System. A less
number than fifty will not be taken by connecting lines at Jacksonville. As
soon as possible a detention camp for refugees will be provided, at a con-
venient point, for those who cannot go as far as Hendersonville, N. C. The
quarantine of Miami and the surveillance of this section as far north as New
River (Fort Lauderdale), will be maintained as rigidly as human agency can
The quarantine station, according to Dr. DuPuis, was set up at Fulford,
around 166th street north, and all who wanted to leave Miami to go north
were required to stay there for two weeks. If no symptoms developed within
that time, they were permitted to leave.
Dr. James M. Jackson as local health officer for the State Board of
Health, set up a sanitary watch over the town and supervised the house-to-
house inspections. According to Dr. Jackson's testimony, the disease was
introduced into Miami by the cattle steamer Laura, a wooden vessel from
As the first victim of the disease had been staying at the Miami Hotel,
everyone who had had any communication with him was quarantined on the
steamer Santa Lucia, a floating detention camp. From the Miami Hotel,
according to the record, the disease spread across the street to a boarding
house. Not long afterward, the Miami Hotel burned to the ground. The cause
of the fire was never given.
Dr. DuPuis quotes a letter dated October 30, 1899, which showed that
Flagler said he would provide funds for a hospital. He not only erected a
hospital but brought experienced nurses from Key West and Jacksonville and
paid all of their expenses. The state records show that Flagler in other ways
contributed to the financial relief of the afflicted.
The quarantine was lifted on January 15, 1900, with a record of 220
cases, but only 14 deaths. One of these deaths was that of John G. Pope, who
RUBY LEACH CARSON 13
had moved from Kissimmee to Miami to construct buildings for the Flagler
interests. One of his five children, Youell Pope, now living in Miami, recalls
how well the health officers guarded the city boundaries during the quar-
antine. The day the quarantine was put into effect, one of his schoolmates,
John Graham, son of the Metropolis publisher, was not allowed to return
home-outside the boundaries-without a permit.
In 1900 the four-year-old city of Miami could face the new century with
a feeling of security-for its economy and its high enthusiasm had been
tested by disasters, and had risen above them.
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Miami In 1926
By FRANK B. SESSA
Three decades have passed since Miami experienced its most exciting
and colorful year. Yet the image remains bright in the minds of those who
lived through it and its stories and legends have stirred the imagination of
more recent arrivals. If present day economic activity is frequently consid-
ered a boom time economy, the word "boom" to Miamians holds only one
meaning: The fantastic speculation in real estate in 1925.
The year 1926, when Miami had reached half its present age, was in
many respects a year of anti-climax. It mattered little that bank deposits,
building permits, postal receipts and other indices of economic well-being
were at their highest point for any year but 1925. The boom had come and
gone and only a severe hurricane was needed to provide a dramatic ending.
Miami, and most of the country which thought about Florida at all in
the summer of 1925, thought only of real estate. Little or no attention went
to the changes taking place in the Florida scene. It is true that a considerable
number of books, magazine articles and newspaper stories about Florida
appeared with increasing frequency, all of them descriptive of Florida's
progress, but equally true that the emphasis was put on the most exciting
development in the area, chronicled over and again in tales of remarkable
profits some fortunate individuals had taken from speculative real estate
As the New York Times put it:
Everybody is telling stories of Florida and the wonderful real
estate developments there. . Hardly anybody talks of anything
but real estate, and one is led to believe that nobody in Florida
thinks of anything else in these days when the peninsula is jammed
with visitors from end to end and side to side-unless it is a matter
of finding a place to sleep. Ten minutes to half an hour in any spot
in the state would convince the most skeptical eyes and ears that
something is taking place in Florida to which the history of develop-
ments, booms, inrushes, speculation, investment yields no parallel.
That newspaper had, in an editorial "Triumphant Florida," approached
a week earlier the question from a different viewpoint. Five years ago, it
observed, the last great unclaimed wilderness in the United States was the
State of Florida. "Today, hand in hand with a real estate boom that makes a
Klondike rush seem tame, a sound and solid development is in progress, the
child of the best pioneer instincts." At the moment "development" was the
rage, with much of it in the hands of those who had made good elsewhere.
They had come to Florida for the winter, had been "fired with the old zeal"
to reclaim "miles of dismal swamps" and turn them "into villages, towns,
hotel and club sites, orange, grapefruit and coconut groves, etc." Those
coming to Florida fell into two groups: reporterss" who filled hotels, beaches,
links, and those who wanted a home away from bitter northern cold. The real
wealth of Florida, the editorial continued, lay in the richness of its soil which,
once drained, will grow anything. "The old spirit of adventure which built
the West still persists. There is a certain gusto about the conquerors of Flor-
ida. Feeling that they are building a tropical empire, they are working with
The work of the "lavish hands" made itself manifest largely in large
hotels, projected subdivisions, and ornamental gateways. The more solid
achievement of Miami and its environs was not so readily apparent. It is
true, of course, that these were physical aspects of the boom. They could be
seen. As Paul P. Wilcox, Assistant City Manager and editor of the City
Manager's Report to City Commission, expressed it, "without reading a word,
a story of Miami's growth can be obtained in pictures by slowly turning the
pages of this record."
The document is a remarkable one. It delves into the expansion of
Miami in its five years of city-manager government, 1921-1926. It is half
statistics of the various departments of municipal government and half prop-
aganda for the future of the city. Sandwiched in with figures showing harbor
expansion, use of bridges, and output of public utilities, are statements as to
"Miami's Possibilities," and "Pertinent Points." The latter part of the book
is devoted to the industrial possibilities of Miami, Miami as a resort city,
Nothing can stop Miami, and more Pertinent Points.
Free-lance English journalist, Theodore Weigall, although most im-
pressed with the bizarre aspects of the boom, also felt something of the solid
achievement of Miami. In a column in the London Daily Telegraph, written
after he had left Miami, he observed: "Behind the boom, behind frenzied
speculation, behind even those ludicrous charabancs crowded with shirt-
sleeved realtorss' selling lots on time-payment to the music of the saxophone,
there is something happening in Florida that is very significant and very real."
FRANK B. SESSA
Real estate had been the chief business of Miami for the past several
years and it was, of course, the chief activity of the boom. It made the boom,
but with it came an expansion of building, the development of excellent
harbor facilities, and the expansion of railroad facilities. Too, Miami made
a population gain of considerable size and that remained a permanent devel-
opment. If sidewalks and streets were cut into the wilderness that failed
(until recently) to materialize into housing areas with homes and landscaped
lawns, there were scores of new buildings, hotels, and apartment houses
erected and wide streets paved that would be crowded later.
Annexation, held in abeyance for the better part of two years, came
before the electorate once more in the summer of 1925. Once more opposi-
tion mobilized. The town of Silver Bluff published a full-page advertisement
in the Miami Herald, the gist of which was that the community should remain
independent until Miami had expanded to its present limits and until it had
made needed improvements such as extensive street-paving, sewers, and so
forth. The issue was settled on September 2, 1925, however, when the voters
of the various communities about Miami approved annexation. The city area
grew from thirteen to forty-three square miles; and Silver Bluff, Little River,
Lemon City, Buena Vista, Coconut Grove, and Allapattah became an integral
part of it.
Miami's building activities took a forward spurt beginning in mid-
summer, 1924, but the city made its outstanding record during the calendar
year 1925 when the value of building permits issued touched $60,026,260.
For the city fiscal year, from July 1, 1923 to June 30, 1924, the figure for
permits issued was $11,176,981, an increase over the previous fiscal year of
93.3 per cent. In the fiscal year, 1924-25, the figure reached $31,835,741, or
an increase of 108.5 per cent; but of that figure the first six months of 1925
totaled $21,711,001. The largest single month was the month of October
when 1,499 permits were issued in the amount of $10,289,889. Miami ranked
sixth in the amount of building permits issued in the United States. For the
entire year, 1925, it ranked ninth in the nation's cities, with only New York,
Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, Boston, Cleveland and Wash-
ington, D. C. ahead of it. The building record for the major communities
in metropolitan Miami, in 1925, reached the amount of $103,272,192, accord-
ing to the January 1, 1926, issue of the Miami Herald.
Building statistics translated themselves in part into a number of large
structures erected or contemplated during the most active period of Miami
real estate in 1925. Dade County proposed a $1,600,000 county courthouse
and city hall with construction to begin about September 1; the Miami Bank
and Trust Company, a half-million dollar ten-story building, the Miami
Realty Board, through the Miami Realty Board Investment Company, a half-
million dollar, fifteen-story building; and the First Baptist Church a twelve
story building to cost $1,250,000, Less than a month after its first announce-
ment, the church had decided upon a twenty-two story church and office
building-which never materialized. It was to be twenty stories high and
have two additional stories in a tower. The plan approved by the building
committee involved $1,500,000. Not to be outdone, Trinity Southern Metho-
dist Church announced, on May 13, 1925, that it was starting a drive to raise
$250,000 as the first part of the sum needed to erect a million-dollar church
and office building.
John H. Kinkaid, of Cleveland, planned a twelve-story apartment-hotel
for the corner of North Bay Shore Drive (now Biscayne Boulevard) and
Fifteenth Terrace. The Fred French Corporation, which had been building
successful apartment hotels in other cities under the French plan, received
a permit to construct the $1,200,000 building on Bay Shore Drive which
eventually became the Everglades Hotel. Owners of the Congress building
received a permit to enlarge that structure by adding fifty feet of frontage
and raising its height to seventeen stories. The permit came to one million
dollars. Rand Properties planned to construct the Huntington Building at
the southwest corner of Southeast Second Avenue and First Street. The
project when completed would cost, according to estimate, one million dollars.
Among hotels for which permits were secured was the Robert Clay
Hotel, to be erected in Dallas Park by the Meyer-Kiser Corporation of Indian-
apolis. It was planned as a luxury hotel of ten stories with 164 guest rooms,
each with bath. A permit was secured for the erection of a $1,200,000 hotel
at the corner of North Bay Shore Drive and First Street, eventually the
Columbus Hotel. One of the most ambitious projects was that of Rand Prop-
erties, the Roosevelt Hotel, to be located on the northwest corner of Northeast
Second Avenue and Fourteenth Street. The fifteen-story building, designed
by Louis Kemper of Detroit, would have a frontage of 120 feet on Second
Avenue and 210 feet on Fourteenth Street. Halted in construction by the
effect of the railroad embargo of late 1925 and early 1926, the unfinished
building long remained a boom landmark. It is now the Lindsey Hopkins
Vocational School. As projected, the sponsors envisioned a $2,750,000 lux-
ury hotel. The site, however, was far enough from the bay and from trans-
portation and shopping centers to be considered a white elephant by most
FRANK B. SESSA
prospective purchasers who might have completed and operated it. Still
another project was a twelve-story, million-dollar hotel to be located on the
northwest corner of Bay Shore Drive and Northeast Fifth Street (the
Alcazar). In the same area, along North Bay Shore Drive, the Watson Hotel,
sixteen stories and costing $700,000 was announced in August.
The projected All States Society Hotel, a twelve-story building, planned
for the southeast corner of Northeast Second Street and Tenth Avenue, was
to be the culmination of a long-nurtured plan to attract visitors to Miami.
There had been organized in Miami, prior to boom times, a number of state
societies, organizations made up of former residents of the various states.
Their function seemed to be to hold meetings and plan recreational outings
and entertainment to which visitors to Miami from their respective states were
invited. The plan, apparently a successful one, received frequent mention in
the Miami dailies, both for the social events the societies planned and for
their help in publicizing Miami. This hotel would be one to which visitors
who were strangers to the area might come; there, they would be sure to meet
in a strange city people with whom they had something in common.
The more than thirty-one million dollars spent during the city fiscal
year, 1924-25, and the more than fifty-nine million dollars in permits for the
fiscal year, 1925-26, were responsible for the large hotels currently found
along Biscayne Boulevard between East Flagler Street and Northeast Fifth
Street, for the Congress Building, the Huntington Building, the new building
of the Bank of Bay Biscayne (presently the Biscayne Building), the Realty
Board Building (presently the Pacific Building), the Meyer-Kiser Building
(presently the Dade Commonwealth Building), the News Tower, and the
twenty-two story Dade County Courthouse. These are the buildings that give
Miami most of its present-day sky-line.
Not all of the projects for which prospective builders secured permits
were completed or even begun. Cases in point were the announced project
of a new $2,000,000 hotel on Brickell Avenue, south of Point View and along
Southeast Twenty-third Road; and the two churches mentioned above never
completed their combination office-building, church structures.
Despite plans that did not mature Miami's building record, and that of
the surrounding communities, constituted one of the substantial, lasting
achievements of the boom era. Although the buildings were planned in a
burst of optimism in the period just before the crescendo of real estate activ-
ity, they were completed in most cases and were available for occupancy
when the demand for space and accommodation came in later years. All of
Florida, for that matter, had participated in the building boom.
As a major indication of Miami's progress and new-found place in the
business world, Miami publications stressed the growth of the city's financial
institutions. Reports of marked gains in deposits and resources also found
their way into the columns of the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal
and the Commercial and Financial Chronicle.
Miami had not had a clearing house until January of 1924, and then
not all of the banks joined the association. Most reports made in the Miami
Herald and the Miami News-Metropolis were labeled as Clearing House
Association banks; occasionally reports of the deposits of smaller institutions
were made. Clearings for the year 1924 totaled $212,333,780.40. In 1925,
totals began to climb rapidly. The figure for January fell just under
$40,000,000, the one for February, over $46,000,000. The totals for those
ten months were $861,291,549.46, as compared with $159,386,235.59 for the
same period of the previous year. Returns on May 2, were $3,267,406.56, on
May 4, $4,257,426.60. The highest figure in the spring, however, was
$4,500,000 (April 13) and the second highest figure $4,400,000 (June 30).
By August 31, the figure reached $6,278,850. For the calendar year clearings
passed the $1,000,000,000 mark, a gain of 475 per cent over 1924. The figure
given by the Comptroller of the Currency and that listed in Statistical Ab-
stracts is $816,788,000, but for those publications the period of compilation
ends on September 30.
As with clearing house statistics, Miami's bank deposits showed a sharp
upward trend in 1925, with the peak occurring in the late summer. The bank
deposits of the city's banks belonging to the Clearing House Association
reached in the quarter ending September 30, a peak of $189,148,319, a 48
per cent increase over the figure for the period ending June 30, 1925.
On October 8, 1925, the Miami Herald published the figures of the
amount of deposits in representative banks, indicative of the growth of Miami
banking in the first nine months of 1925. At the conclusion of the year,
(January 3, 1926), the same paper published figures showing the gain made
by representative Miami and Miami Beach banks. Taken separately, the
twelve-month gains are imposing; compared with the figures for September
28, 1925, they show a decrease of several million dollars in deposits. The
First National Bank of Miami had dropped in ninety days from $63,029,-
867.82 to $55,255,861.54, and the second largest bank, the Bank of Bay
Biscayne, dropped in the same period from $57,713,440.91 to $54,517,610.64.
FRANK B. S ESSA
It should be noted also that the Southern Bank and Trust Company with
deposits in excess of $14,000,000 was included, yet the year's totals for eight
reported banks fell a little less than $2,000,000 below the total for Sep-
A natural result of the rise of property values in Miami was the increase
in assessments. Although assessments were made for the fiscal year ending
on June 30, "regardless of when the assessor makes his call, he values the
property as it was January 1st, for all." The net valuation for Miami in
1923, was $70,341,895, for 1924, $87,651,714, and for 1925, $166,898,974.
With the addition of the newly annexed areas in September, the latter figure
increased in amount to $184,242,219. The valuation for 1926 was set at
$389,648,391. (1956 evaluation is $689,441,010).
The Wall Street Journal, on December 24, 1925, set Miami's per capital
wealth at $7,470, based upon a population in greater Miami of 177,061, with
real estate valued at $750,000,000 and $199,651,065 on deposit in Miami
banks. It did not include Coral Gables and Miami Beach.
Postal receipts in Miami climbed rapidly throughout the boom period.
By the close of 1924, they were $493,000, just $7,000 short of the $500,000
volume of business the Post Office Department required for the two-division
system, one for handling mail, the other for financial activities. In view of
the rapid growth of the city, postal authorities decided to institute the system
as of July 1, 1925. "Extraordinary conditions" in Miami, because of the
influx of people, led the Postmaster General (Washington) to open up a
branch of the department in Miami to handle postal problems as they arose.
One dream of Miami expansionists, passenger and freight service by
sea, came to full realization in 1925. Early in January, the S. S. Berkshire,
of the Merchants and Miners Line, arrived in Miami's port. Music, noise,
and cheers greeted the ship's arrival. Miami, observed the Miami Herald,
was now linked by water with Philadelphia. By September, the Herald was
able to report that very shortly steamships would bring almost 2,000 passen-
gers every seven days, an increase of 400 per cent over the service offered
one year before. The New York Journal of Commerce, on September 19,
1925, carried an advertisement for the Clyde Line, announcing direct service
without transfer to the heart of the City of Miami; and on November 13, it
carried three block-advertisements for New York to Miami steamship service:
the American and Cuban Steamship Line, the New York and Florida Naviga-
tion Corporation, and Oceanic Lines. The arrivals of the steamship H. F.
Alexander, on October 24, 1925, marked the inauguration of service by the
Admiral Lines, and touched off a large celebration with boats and small
yachts going out to meet it as it entered the channel and with bands and
crowds on hand to welcome its docking. Even the London Daily Telegraph
noted that the S. S. Kroonland, formerly in the Red Star Line's transatlantic
service, had begun, on December 11, a new service from New York to Miami.
Among the 400 passengers were several golf champions who were to winter
Miami's water-borne freight handling increased just as did steamship
passenger service. The volume of imports in 1925 increased more than 350
per cent over those in 1924. Exports increased almost 100 per cent.
To the Miami Herald, a major indication of the volume of real estate
and commercial activity in Miami was the enormous increase of its advertis-
ing lineage. It had carried daily advertising statistics in a small box in
a lower corner of the front page for some time past, but in April, 1925, it
began to stress the rapid expansion of space devoted to advertising. The
Nation also considered the Herald's advertising advance significant. In fact,
it had seen no "more impressive confirmation" of Miami's boom than a state-
ment of the Herald's advertising lineage in Editor and Publisher. The Miami
Herald led the nation's "seven day a week" newspapers at the end of the first
quarter, the second quarter, and for the entire year of 1925. By the end of
October, the Miami Herald had carried 34,106,030 agate lines of paid adver-
tising, exceeding the 1924 world's record (twelve months) of the Detroit
News by 3,501,512 lines. In the matter of the number of classified advertise-
ments published the paper also had an extraordinary record. On September
1, 1925, the number of advertisements published had surpassed the record of
the entire previous year (363,320). By the end of the year the Miami Herald
had published 674,738 classified advertisements.
The Miami Daily News could not compete on equal terms with the
Herald in either numbers of classified advertisements or in lineage. Its line-
age for real estate advertisements (1925) amounted to 8,256,402 lines as
opposed to 12,654,586 lines for the Herald to September 30. It did, however,
produce the largest single issue in the country. The occasion was the formal
opening of the News Tower and the twenty-ninth anniversary of the city.
Some fifty carloads of newsprint were needed for the 504-page issue of
In the late summer and fall of 1925 Miami had received a number of
sharp setbacks. The housing shortage, the embargoes, the increased tempo
FRANK B. SESSA
and effectiveness of anti-Florida propaganda, and reports of increased vig-
ilance by internal revenue agents over realty transactions all combined to
jeopardize the delicate balance of Miami's economy. It remained for the
"season" to arrive to answer the question of the city's immediate future. No
one had expected real estate sales to maintain the extraordinarily high levels
of the summer indefinitely; the question of concern to most of the commun-
ity's inhabitants and boosters was whether sales would be brisk enough to
continue forward progress.
With some of the real estate fever subsiding, Miamians turned their
attention, in the late fall, to preparations for the coming of the tourists. The
Miami Herald surveyed a number of Florida cities and published their esti-
mates of the coming season, based, said the paper, upon actual hotel reserva-
tions. Tampa expected its largest group of visitors for the ninety-day season,
Sebring anticipated a 300 per cent increase, and Key West presently had more
visitors than at the height of the previous season. Late in December, how-
ever, there appeared a news item that might indicate all was not well or
going as hoped. Miami rents, reported the Wall Street journal, were coming
down, "the most hopeful sign of a prosperous winter." Apartments adver-
tised for $3,500 a season on November 1, now brought $1,500 or less. Miami
Beach apartments were reported as being 30 per cent lower than before.
Such a report could be considered a harbinger of winter prosperity only by
indirection. A bumper season meant crowded conditions, more reservations
than accommodations, and rentals under such circumstances tended to climb.
Rents appreciably lower than formerly might attract more visitors ultimately,
but they would be looked upon temporarily as a recession.
Despite such indications, Miami went ahead with its seasonal plans. On
Christmas Day, visitors were treated to the spectacle of the "Gray Ghost,"
Red Grange, and his Chicago Bears professional football team defeating the
Coral Gables Collegians, 7-0. On New Year's Day, the famous Four Horse-
men and Seven Mules of Notre Dame defeated the ex-Princeton Stars, 6-0,
in the last thirty seconds of their game held in the Coral Gables stadium.
Spectators had paid three to five dollars for grandstand seats and seven
dollars to sit in reserved seats in boxes.
With a great deal of fanfare two special trains departed from the Penn-
sylvania Station in New York for Coral Gables for the opening of the
Biltmore Hotel. John McEntee Bowman, its builder, had chartered two trains,
one from the Seaboard Air Line Railway and one from the Atlantic Coast
Line Railroad. The trains, with picked engineers, raced toward Miami; they
carried specially invited guests and notables who were to attend the hotel's
formal opening. The Seaboard passengers had some inconvenience. Al-
though theirs was the shorter route, their rail journey ended at West Palm
Beach and, with their baggage, they had to complete the journey by bus.
Tahiti Beach, the private beach of the Biltmore Hotel, opened officially
on February 7. By 11:00 A. M., a steady stream of motor cars was making
its way to the South Sea native-style huts with thatched roofs of palmetto and
palm fronds. Native Tahitians served fruit "Tahitian style," that is, they
sliced coconuts with machetes and brought the guests oranges and bananas on
sticks. Even more bizarre were the gondolas with native Italian gondoliers
brought to America by Bowman, to carry romantic guests on afternoon and
moonlight trips along the winding route of the local "Grand Canal," a six-
mile stretch from the gondola basin south of the Biltmore Hotel to Tahiti
Beach, a "stretch of water the Venetians have beautified with reproductions
of lights and ornaments used in Venice."
Other events of some consequence to the community and of interest to
the visitors were the opening of new hotels, like the Floridian and Roney
Plaza on Miami Beach, the opening of the Venetian Way (along the route of
the old Collins Bridge), Rosa Raisa singing "Aida" and Mary Garden
singing "Thais" at the Coral Gables Stadium, and the "on-again, off-again"
Tunney-Stribling prize fight.
Racing, of course, attracted many visitors to Hialeah until March 15.
A new attitude had appeared toward the race track, however, for some oppo-
sition to horse racing had developed. A check of Miami department stores,
after the close of the racing season, revealed an improvement of business.
Woolworth's reported a 10 per cent increase in sales, Burdines, more business
than in a long time, and Sewell and Brothers, "somewhat better than usual."
S. A. Ryan, of Ryan Motors, offered $1,000 toward the establishment of a
fund to be used to abolish horse racing in Miami: "I have 28 salesmen and
many of them are out at the track every day instead of being on the job."
The Miami Credit Men's Association joined the movement for a shorter
racing season. Creditors could not collect, according to the association
president, because debtors had lost on the races; the "long season and the
large amount of money diverted from regular channels are working a ser-
ious injury on the business men and community in general."
Plenty of entertainment and attractions were offered to visitors, but the
season of 1925-26 was not considered a success. By ordinary standards, per-
haps, it would have been, but not after the extraordinary summer. If Clarence
FRANK B. SESSA
W. Barron, publisher of the Wall Street Journal, reported the Florida East
Coast Railway officials as saying they carried 2,500 persons into Florida
(75 per cent to Miami) and only 1,500 out daily, the plaints of Miami busi-
ness and hotel men seemed to belie the implications of a bumper crop of
visitors. The Chamber of Commerce bent every effort to get hotels to guar-
antee a reduction of rates for the coming off-season period. N. B. T. Roney,
at Miami Beach, was also attempting to get his fellow hotel owners to cut
In real estate, as with the tourist trade, optimistic notes sounded as the
1925-26 season approached. John J. McGraw, famous manager of the New
York Giants Baseball Team, was advertising Penant Park. His advertise-
ments indicated the folly of waiting "until the ninth inning." In his descrip-
tion of the property, said the New York Times, he disclosed "a wealth of
vocabulary that undoubtedly would stun any National League umpire: 'Soft
zephyrs' and the 'rustle of the fronds of the palms in gentle Aeolian music.'"
McGraw, whose development lay near Sarasota, advertised extensively in
In Miami, Rand-Shepard Company reported transactions totaling about
$3,000,000. The Tatums announced a bonus of $400,000 paid to its seventy-
two salesmen and its office force. Company sales, in 1925, had amounted to
$65,000,000 as compared with the 1924 figure of $14;000,000. Fisher inter-
ests reported sales of almost $2,000,000 in the first three weeks of January.
Coral Pines, Incorporated, sold 133 acres to the Cambridge Company for
$7,500 an acre, or just under $1,000,000. A twenty-five foot site in the 200
block of North Miami Avenue sold for $5,000 a front foot. In view of the
fact that January was not considered an especially good real estate month,
local seers found the outlook good. In the first twenty days of January,
7,400 realty instruments were filed with the County Recorder, 370 a day.
At that rate, the figure would reach 11,100 as compared with 9,704 in
For many realtors, however, the vaunted upswing did not come. They
fell back on various devices to attract patrons. J. S. Bain placed a two-page,
eye-catching spread in the Miami Daily News. He invited one and all to
meet Jack Dempsey at his office, 213 Northeast First Avenue. The J. C. H.
Corporation advertised that it had employed several baseball players of the
Champion Pittsburgh Pirate team to sell real estate: Max Carey, Lee
Meadows, Emil Yde, and "Pie" Traynor. Yde and Meadows had been with
the firm for some time. They were engaged "not only because of their great
popularity but because of their personality and business acumen." In Feb-
ruary, the trend turned toward auctions, auctions of ocean front property,
of apartment and hotel sites, and of business sites. The Miami Daily News
found by March that the auction idea had grown in favor in the Miami area,
"a new development in the history of Miami," although that plan of selling
real estate had been used extensively in the North. The real estate editor had
not consulted his back files. In 1923, auctions of real estate had been quite
common although not as extensive as early in 1926.
Sales were disappointing. February, normally a good month, had rev-
enue stamp sales far below those of February, 1925, $46,560 as compared
with $62,693, representing an estimated dollar volume of business of $46,-
560,000 and $62,693,000 respectively.
Coral Gables attempted to bolster up its disappointing sales record with
an announcement of outstanding projects for 1926: the Coliseum, a million-
dollar structure; the Urmey Arms, a $12,500,000 project with 1,855 rooms;
and a building program of the American Building Corporation of Cincinnati,
involving $75,000,000 worth of homes in the Riviera section. The University
of Miami also moved forward. Its regents announced that more than
$7,000,000 had been pledged by less than twenty residents of greater Miami.
Merrick had given 160 acres of land valued at $1,000,000 and $4,000,000 in
cash. A real estate dealer, had also pledged a generous sum, $1,000,000.
The corner stone laying took place, February 4, before 7,000 spectators.
Arthur Pryor's band played for the ceremonies.
If Miamians were seeking a means to revitalize a failing real estate mar-
ket, outside observers were seeking explanations as to the cause of the decline.
Although many persons earlier had offered the prognostication that when
the saturation point of realty sales had been reached, the whole flimsy struc-
ture of Miami's economy would collapse, most writers, when the end came,
were unwilling to accept so simple an explanation. Miami's experience had
entailed much more than real estate frenzy and they were well aware of the
fact. The New York Times, as a case in point, had used the descriptive word
"lull" rather than "collapse" in describing Miami's apparent recession. It
found that the mid-February boom, predicted by Florida realtors, had failed
to materialize; there was, instead, a decided "lull." Hundreds of investors
had failed to unload, even at their original purchase price, with resales vir-
tually at a standstill. Some Miami observers, continued the Times, found only
that prices were stabilizing, admitted that values were temporarily at a peak,
but insisted there would be no decline in prices. Others found the situation
FRANK B. SESSA
disturbing for two reasons. What would happen when buyers, who had
invested all of their money with the expectation of selling at a profit before
the second payment came due, found themselves unable to meet the second
payment? What decision would be made on the deferred-sale problem with
regard to income taxes due March 15? If money had to be raised through
excessive discounting, many would lose considerable sums of money. The
paper ended with the comment:
The promised boom has not materialized. Real Estate men say
a digestive period has set in. Florida, they say, may suffer from a
slight attack of colic due to swallowing more than she could really
digest. But the attack won't be serious. Reverses may come, they
say, but Florida as a great vacation State is here to stay.
Many Miamians and those who had invested heavily in the state
were unwilling to concede the disappearance of the bonanza without
a struggle. The line they followed was essentially one that admitted specula-
tion of the flamboyant sort had passed; values now had stability, and
investors would find excellent opportunities for venture capital. In short,
Miami was sound. No bubble had burst in Miami or in Florida, for no
"bubble" was ever known there. None therefore could burst. Miami and
Florida were durable and permanent, solid and substantial. G. L. Miller,
whose firm had invested heavily in Miami mortgages, advised that no alarm
need be felt in regions where economic contraction was taking place. The
area was well rid of speculators and "Get Rich Quick Wallingfords." Busi-
ness men actually had a chance to take stock, to reorganize their affairs on
a safe, sane basis. By the 1926-27 season, the undesiable elements would be
gone and Florida would forge ahead steadily.
Lon Worth Crow, President of the Miami Chamber of Commerce and
head of the realty board, observed that the real estate market could not rise
indefinitely. "We are glad," he said, "that the asking price of property has
reached a reasonable basis." A quieter market would be the foundation of
steady, normal activity. He listed funds to be spent for improvement in the
area as evidence of Miami development in 1926. Expansion of railroads,
utilities, new buildings, city improvements, to name a few, would total
$406,405,000 by the year's end. John B. Devoney, a Miami realtor recently
returned from a northern trip, advised his fellow citizens that they must
be prepared to show northern capital the difference between the situation
then and what it had been the previous summer. Developments would under-
go the closest scrutiny before investment followed. The chief argument being
used against Miami, he said, was the high cost of living. Workers who had
come to Miami and left were giving it a "black eye."
The Miami phase of the Florida boom was over, at least so far as real
estate was concerned. And it was by real estate sales and real estate valuation
that most persons, in and out of Miami, judged Miami's economic condition.
That the dollar volume of building permits, bank deposits, and various other
indices remained high or at satisfactory levels, escaped the average observer.
In vain might the Miami booster point out that 1926 levels were well above
those of 1924; the year 1925 was, after all, a freak year and to use it as a
basis of comparison was grossly unfair in their eyes. Miami, in truth, did
need a period of stabilization, a chance to catch up with itself. That period
did not materialize. Whatever chance the city might have had to recover
some measure of its boom-time economy was wiped out by the hurricane that
struck in September, 1926. It should be noted, however, that the boom was
over before the storm struck.
The disappointing season of 1925-26 came as a shock to Miami. Men of
sounder judgment and standing in the community spoke of a period of read-
justment and stabilization. Miami had, perhaps, advanced too rapidly; it
must now pause, consolidate its gains, and then move ahead again, this time
with speculative enterprises under firm control. In the future episodes like
that of the summer activity of the binder boys must be carefully avoided.
Miami was sound: it had all of the things it had before 1925 and much more.
By the summer of 1926, however, there were many signs that "readjust-
ment and stabilization" entailed something more than a leveling-off of real
estate prices and an abatement of speculative fever. Bank clearings exceeded
those for the first six months of 1925 ($441,472,094.77 as compared with
$380,641,072.98), but deposits were down to a noticeable degree. Three of
Miami's smaller banks had closed during the summer "to conserve resources":
the Bank of Buena Vista, the Bank of Coconut Grove, and the Bank of Little
River. All three were quickly replaced by newly organized institutions.
Building permits were also slightly lower in dollar volume for the first six
months of 1926. They were almost $1,000,000 below the figures for the
corresponding period of 1925, but, boosters pointed out, more than $3,000,000
above the same period of 1924. The construction industry maintained a high
level still when it is considered that the city stood twelfth among the nation's
cities in building activities in the first half of the year. Much of the building
then carried on had been projected or contracted before the embargo had
hampered construction; and, in addition, a considerable portion of real
FRANK B. SESSA
estate profits of the boom period had found their way into a building pro-
gram that was nearing completion.
In July, too, delinquent tax sales began with some 15,000 parcels of
land offered, some of which had been in great demand a few months before.
About 10 per cent of the offering was taken up on the first day. The twenty
bidders, according to the Miami Herald, were not so much interested in pos-
sessing the land as they were in collecting the interest obtainable under Flor-
ida law. On the second day of sales 2,200 parcels, with an assessed valuation
of approximately $500,000, were offered to purchasers. The sale ended on
July 13 with about 50 per cent of the property going automatically to the
state when no bidders appeared. Total assessed value of the property sold
amounted to about $1,500,000 and the sale brought local authorities about
Another indication that real estate prospects were somewhat nebulous
was the organizing of Coral Gables Consolidated, Incorporated, described by
Merrick as a "plan primarily of national financing under which will be
brought to completion a ten-year program of development and sales of Coral
Gables properties." Merrick was president and chairman of the board of
directors of the new corporation; his associates were to be officers in various
capacities. To finance the corporation, 100,000 shares of 8 per cent, cumu-
lative stock at par value of $100 per share were offered. With an additional
issue, 500,000 shares of common stock with no par value were offered. Al-
though the new organization had authorized and issued stock valued at
$10,000,000, the value of the properties turned over to the new company
amounted to about $100,000,000, according to the announcement. The forma-
tion of the corporation (with some six subsidiary companies) meant, in
reality, that Merrick's sales were then insufficient to carry the heavy burden
of promised and proposed improvements.
Despite these and other signs of a waning prosperity Miami's newspapers
continued their optimistic comments about the community and the state in
general. Miami business and that of the country too, said the Miami Daily
News, was entering the last half of the year on a "basis saner, safer and
sounder than it has been for a period of years." Business was not better
in a profit-taking sense, however. The real estate business in Florida, for
instance, had improved materially over that of 1924. The year 1925 should
not be used as a basis of comparison, for such a comparison was unjust.
"During the last seven months of 1925, particularly, dealing in Florida real
estate was so highly speculative as to be little more than a gambling proposi-
tion." At the moment "real investors" had become the purchasers of Miami
real estate; they investigated before they bought, did not over-extend them-
selves, and remained financially able to meet their obligations. Two days
later the paper carried a suggestion of the Florida Association of Real Estate
Boards that the state remove the "unsightly signs, decaying entrances, arches,
street intersection signs leaning at angles and other evidences of the specu-
lative period from the so-called 'developments,' whose authors have left the
The real estate situation received thorough scrutiny at the 1926 meeting
of the Florida Association of Real Estate Boards held in Daytona in July.
The consensus of those present seemed to be that Florida had gotten the bad
phases of a real estate boom out of its system and was now ready to forge
ahead. The failure of the boom, observed one speaker in retrospect, came
from "an overindulgence in superlatives" which caused "a reaction in the
minds of the conservative buyer, the seeker after permanent investments."
That the spirit that had produced the boom lingered on may be seen from
a souvenir passed out to delegates by the president of the St. Petersburg Inter-
urban Transit Company. It contained the "Decalogue of Florida," which
advised, "Thou shalt prepare thyself for the happy habitation of man; thou
shalt drain thy swamps, bridge thy rivers and build thee highways to the
uttermost parts of thy hinterland. . ." The remainder of the decalogue fol-
lowed the same pattern.
If it were true that Miami had reached a leveling-off period, a period
free of the rigors of a summer of real estate frenzy and all it entailed, then
the city might reasonably expect to resume its forward progress of 1923 and
1924. Many Miamians confidently looked forward to a good season, 1926-27.
Statistics, they admitted, did not show the phenomenal gains of the previous
summer, but they still showed a greater volume of business activity in 1926
than in 1924. No valid reason for pessimism existed. As a result Miamians
returned to their pleasant, pre-boom pastime of planning for the coming
In July, however, a hurricane struck the lower east coast of the state.
Miami felt the blow, which hit July 27, but the major damage occurred at
Palm Beach where at least one estimate set the wind velocity at 100 miles
per hour. In Miami, hurricane warnings had been posted at noon. Miami's
damage consisted of a ruined avocado crop, damage to the Baker's Haulover
Bridge approach, and the splintering and washing away of some old South
Beach concession booths. In all, according to estimates locally, the damage
FRANK B. SESSA
amounted to about $100,000. Ten days later the Miami Herald published
an editorial on hurricanes. It called attention to an inconspicuous news item
in another part of the paper, a notice that a storm was forming in the Carib-
bean area. Such notices, said the editor, should receive close attention from
the people now and for the next six months. Fourteen years had passed since
a major hurricane had visited the region and many Miamians had never
experienced one. For those on land no danger existed, for buildings properly
constructed held no danger. One should prepare, however, by taking such
precautions as removing loose items from porches, tricing up awnings, and
staking trees on lawns. Hurricane warnings would be given well in advance,
and the weather bureau would trace the hurricane step by step by plotting
its course, speed, and so forth. The Miami area, in conclusion, had little to
fear but damage to fruit groves. The Miami Herald had given some sound
as well as misleading advice; it might well have added a warning that under
no circumstances should one leave his place of shelter until the storm had
passed from the area.
On September 17, an Associated Press dispatch, from Turk's Island in
the Bahamas, reported that a tropical storm of hurricane intensity had passed
over the island the day before. Although no fatalities had occurred, property
damage appeared to be enormous and nearly all of the lighters in port had
sunk. The storm, arising near St. Thomas Island, moved rapidly in the direc-
tion of the Florida coast. By 11:00 A. M. Friday, September 17, storm warn-
ings were raised. The Weather Bureau in Washington warned: "This is a
very severe storm." The Miami Daily News later in the day carried a ban-
ner headline that read: "MIAMI WARNED OF TROPICAL STORM." The
following morning the Miami Herald told its readers that hurricane warnings
had been posted from Key West to Jupiter Inlet (some distance north of
Miami), and that weather forecaster Richard W. Gray had remained on duty
until midnight. Hurricane winds might arrive during the next morning or
afternoon. By the time the evening edition of the Miami Daily News was on
the streets, the paper displayed a headline warning that the hurricane would
News of possible trouble for Miami was not long in spreading north-
ward. The Boston Evening Transcript, September 18, 1926, reported that the
"advance guard" of the hurricane was sweeping Miami. The barometer there
had dropped slowly and the wind had risen steadily. At Miami Beach a heavy
surf pounded twenty or more feet above the high water lines. On the morn-
ing of September 19, the New York Times and the New York Herald Tribune
had their first reports of the hurricane's strike from a "fragmentary message"
picked up by the Tropical Radio Telegraph station at Mobile, Alabama. The
station had made contact with Ward liner S. S. Siboney, which in turn, had
established communication with a makeshift transmitting plant at Hialeah.
The sole information obtainable reported seventy-five persons dead, Miami
in ruins, and damage to the extent of $100,000,000. Miami Beach had been
inundated to a depth of three feet, six feet of water covered the County
Neither of Miami's two major papers published an edition for Sunday,
September 19. The Miami Tribune, whose plant the storm wrecked, printed
its issues in the plant of a sister paper, the Palm Beach Times. No outside
account, expressing hostility to Miami, could have been more sensational
than that of the Miami Tribune, which found Miami "quivering like a broken
reed." "Every Building in Miami Wrecked; Sheriff Calls for 600 Troops for
Stricken District," it reported. The seventeen-story Meyer-Kiser Building
leaned about fifteen degrees toward First Street; it was "so badly twisted"
it must be torn down. Cromer-Cassel's huge new department store lay in
ruins as did Burdine's. Coconut Grove, Homestead, Goulds, South Miami,
all were in ruins.
First reports were grossly exaggerated. The New York Herald-Tribune
headline reported: "500 DIE, 38,000 Homeless in Florida Storm; Miami Area
Swept; Red Cross Speeds Relief." The New York Times headline reported:
"1,000 DEAD IN FLORIDA STORM, 3,000 HURT; MIAMI WORST HIT;
60 MILE SWATH OF DESTRUCTION LEAVES 38,000 HOMELESS;
SCORES OF TOWNS ARE RAZED OR FLOODED; SHIPPING
Before long eye-witness accounts began to appear in out-of-state news-
papers. One of the earliest reported the newly constructed El Commodore
Hotel as being twisted on its foundation. Reese Amis, a Miami Daily News
reporter, left Miami Saturday afternoon and made his way to West Palm
Beach in a borrowed car. There he filed his story. The hurricane had hit
Miami between 2:00 and 3:00 A. M. The weather bureau a few hours before
had given warning. The barometer stood at 29.95 inches then and had dropped
rapidly to 27.15 inches at 5:00 A. M. when all weather instruments exposed
had blown away from the top of the post office. Gray, the meteorologist,
estimated the wind velocity at the time at 130 miles per hour. After the first
blow, a lull of about an hour and a half followed. The people in the mean-
time were digging themselves out of wrecked homes and were aiding the
FRANK B. SESSA
injured. At 7:30 A. M., the second hurricane broke and the damage was
even greater, for buildings weakened by the first blow, went in the second.
Ray Jackson, a Negro Pullman car porter, told his story on the train's
arrival in New York:
It was the worst thing I ever saw. . Our car was right at
the station, and from the time the storm hit about midnight Friday
until we left at 1:30 Sunday morning, we were right in the middle
of it. There were three separate storms. It began to blow and rain
just after midnight, Friday, and until about 7 o'clock Saturday
morning it was terrible. You couldn't see ten feet in front of you
and the wind blew so hard it rocked the car like it was a cradle.
. Along toward daylight Saturday morning you could see limbs
of trees, roofs of houses and great big timbers sailing along through
the air. . You could set in the car and see parts of houses go
sailing by and telegraph poles would snap off right close to the
The Miami Tribune Building was twisted until it hung over the
street . I noticed one building that was being erected near the
station. It was several stories high and was built of steel. The wind
hit it and swished those heavy steel beams all out of shape. It
looked like a pile of scrap iron.
Still another eye-witness, who has left us an account, was Kirby Jones,
Representative of the American Bakeries Company. Jones had come out of the
area on the first train.
It was this lull which indirectly caused much of the casualties.
Hundreds of persons, believing the storm was over, started for
work. But about 8 o'clock the rain began again and the wind grew
more and more violent.
The city was covered with a pall of darkness which obscured
everything. Between 9 o'clock and noon the wind velocity reached
its maximum. Thousands of homes were ripped from their founda-
tions and the air was filled with flying timbers.
I was in a building seeking shelter from the storm when the
roof caved in. There about 150 other people were with me at the
time. All of us fled to a school house about a block away. It was
a pitiful sight to see that crowd running through the driving rain,
barely able to make headway against the terrific force of the wind.
From the mass of conflicting detail, the New York Herald-Tribune, on
September 24, 1926, pieced together the best account of the storm and the
disaster it brought with it. It had originated in the area of the Virgin Islands
and had passed swiftly through the Bahamas and the West Indies. On Thurs-
day, Miami felt it would be by-passed but the storm did not turn north as
first indicated, instead it turned west toward Nassau and Miami. Although
the papers carried warnings, many Miamians had laughed at them, for they
remembered the July hurricane that "played hide and seek in the West Indies
for more than a week" and then went north to Palm Beach.
Early Friday evening a strong northeast wind had come from Biscayne
Bay; by midnight it had reached hurricane force. Many residents of Miami
Beach, driving home late, were stranded halfway along the causeway. Two
or three dozen of them spent the night huddled together as water came over
the causeway. Several automobiles were swept into the bay waters. The last
electric lights went out around 4:00 A. M. To that time damage seemed to
be confined to the unroofing of a few houses. As the first evidences of dawn
appeared there came a lull with absolute calm for thirty minutes. To the
newcomers it would seem as if the storm were over; to those who had hurri-
cane experience before, it meant simply that the wind would shortly shift to
a different direction and become a "more vicious wind." During the lull
many of those who felt the danger had passed started for work or to clean
up some of the debris. "None went far. Great waves, tangled wreckage and
houses blown across their paths sent them scurrying to safety." The wind
had risen again rapidly, this time from the south, and increased in velocity
until between 8:00 and 9:00 Saturday morning. The storm had continued
for nine hours before subsiding sufficiently to permit search for the dead
and injured. Miami's "ornate skyline was twisted into a wild medley of
cocked roofs, crushed towers and suspended beams."
The damage to homes and properties in and about Miami was tremen-
dous. After a few days members of the City Relief Committee surveyed
damaged areas. They estimated total damage at $76,000,000, excluding losses
in personal property which was expected to run into several millions of
additional dollars. Of the estimated 55,000 homes in the greater Miami dis-
trict about 40 per cent had been damaged. Apartment houses seemed to have
fared better. Of 1,800 (estimated number), only 30 per cent were damaged
and that damage was principally to roofs. Hotels suffered little structurally
but lost their awnings and window glass. On Miami Beach the Flamingo
Hotel lost its huge glass dome, the Fleetwood Hotel its wireless antenna (it
housed a radio station, WMBF), and the Floridian, Roney Plaza, Nautilus.
and William Penn parts of the main roof or roof structures. The Pancoast
Hotel suffered more severely with its damage estimated at about $150,000. In
Miami, only one office building was wrecked, the Meyer-Kiser Building, a
FRANK B. SESSA
$1,500,000 structure that rose seventeen stories into Miami's skyline. The
building was condemned and the order for tearing it down issued. Appar-
ently, its width was out of proportion to its height, and since it was turned
broadside to the wind, it buckled. Not an inconsiderable part of the damage
was to places of amusement, to tourist camps, and to the small hastily built
houses of Hialeah. During the boom when labor and materials were scarce,
"anyone who could drive a nail got a job." Bracing was used "sparingly,"
and the way in which one-story concrete block garages collapsed would
indicate that blocks were merely laid one on top of another with just a bit
of mortar to hold them in place. State construction engineers agreed that in
almost every case of collapse of a house, faulty construction was the cause.
Older type of houses had weathered the storm without difficulty. In almost
every case of collapse it was a boom house constructed of wood or a Mexican-
type house of concrete block, that is, with walls rising about three feet above
the roof. When the wind caught and toppled these top sections, part of the
lower wall went with them and the whole building collapsed. Running well
into millions of dollars, too, was the damage done to landscaping around the
more expensive homes. The committee set the figure at $6,000,000, although
the New York Times thought the final amount would run several times the
Losses in dead and injured for Miami and environs were set in the first
few days at 107 known dead, 1,400 persons injured, and 225 missing. In the
hospitals of Miami and neighboring communities were currently 450 persons
who had been hurt in the storm. One interesting sidelight was the thanks-
giving services held in Miami, Hollywood, and Ft. Lauderdale, thanksgiving
that the toll was not higher than it had been. Earlier several ministers, locally
and out of state, had suggested that God had wreaked his vengeance upon the
Godless area, a point not overlooked by a foreign observer who wrote in the
Manchester Guardian that there was one aspect of "this appalling event upon
which we shall assuredly hear a great deal." He went on to point out that
to the simpler folk of America the display of wealth and luxury in Miami had
seemed to be a denial of the "spirit that ruled America until the other day."
Miami and Palm Beach, he said, had been denounced "as the modern coun-
terpart of the Cities of the Plain. Nothing is easier than to foresee the influence
of divine [sic] judgment that will be drawn by the millions of plain people
who inhabit the Fundamentalist regions." The Reverend Everett S. Smith,
however, chided those who would find Divine interference in the visitation of
the hurricane. If "He wanted to punish Miami" for wickedness, He would
have destroyed more dance halls and fewer churches.
The problems of relief for those who had suffered severe financial loss
or were destitute because of the hurricane and reconstruction, unfortunate-
ly became involved in politics. The source of conflict seems to have been
the fear on the part of some that to publicize the full extent of the damage
would have a deleterious effect upon the region's attraction as a tourist
center. Just how many persons were affected by the attendant adverse public-
ity is a matter of conjecture. It is true that the season of 1926-27 was a
disappointing one, both from the standpoint of real estate operations and of
winter visitors. Miami might well have made a faster comeback, however, had
the national depression not been in the offing.
The year 1926 is, in many respects, a more interesting one than its pre-
decessor. If it lacked "land by the gallon, brass bands, barbecues and sales
by blueprint," it is the year which saw the completion of a considerable por-
tion of the planning of much of Miami that we know today. It has afforded an
excellent opportunity to study the period of adjustment of a community sub-
jected to the shock of a boom. It is interesting to note, too, that not only
have the predictions of Miami's recovery from the boom come true, but the
extent of Miami's expansion far exceeds even the "wildest claims made by
more ardent supporters."
Mango Growing Around Early Miami
By HAROLD W. DORN
My brother, Robert, and I had our introduction to Miami on a bright
October day in 1910. We had come South with farming on our minds. The
Florida East Coast station was yellow then as now, but the frame houses
and the rock streets were white, the coconuts in Royal Palm Park were green
and brown, and Biscayne Bay was a heavenly blue. The city boasted 5000
souls and, with a strong premonition of its destiny, called itself the Magic
It had then, more than now, an anxious interest in its tourists. But when
the railroad cancelled its faster winter trains, sometime after March first,
the population, both city and rural, returned to its more durable interests in
agriculture and real estate. Spring, to a greater degree than winter, was
the time when its tomato crops were matured, picked and marketed. The
fields stretched along the country roads, whether paved or mere winding
trails, from the large Little River and Arch Creek sections on the north down
west of Miami to Larkins (now South Miami), and even Perrine, on the
south. Another section was starting in the glades around the new settlement
at Homestead. Dade County was even then, and has continued to be, the
largest tomato growing section in Florida.
This county in the early century had an almost equal interest in fruit
growing. Primarily the plantings were in grapefruit groves, with their prin-
cipal area west and south of Miami and bordering the Coconut Grove area.
The Peacock brothers, the Merricks, the Hicksons and many more were tak-
ing advantage of the favorable prices for early grapefruit, in which Dade
County so far had almost a monopoly. At a guess, 1910 saw an important
production from some 800 to 1000 acres, ranging from a few scattering
young groves in the Redland area up to the Bryan groves in Dania and Fort
Lauderdale. Broward County had not yet been carved out of Dade. At no
time has orange growing occupied an important place here.
Along with the citrus family, Robert and I, in our first exploring, found
a scattering of two other families of trees, avocados and mangoes. By Novem-
* Portions of this article appeared in The Florida Sub-Tropical Gardener, Palm Beach,
September through December, 1955.
ber any mango fruit was long gone and it was almost impossible to find a
late avocado. But trees of both were scattered here and there through the
young city and around nearly all the homesteads, north, west and southwest.
Gradually we pieced together the story of these two tropical trees, confined by
their tender nature to this section relatively free from winter frost.
Even then there were a few commercial grove plantings of avocados in
budded varieties, though there were far more seedlings, ranging from a
couple of trees to several acres. Mango growing was confined to scattered
trees, mostly seedlings, except for several small blocks of budded trees. The
reason for this looks much plainer now than then, when mango growing, as
an industry, was in its earliest stage. Today the grower finds a bewildering
bill of fare of mango varieties for his planting. In 1910 and 1911, he prob-
ably planted the seed of the fruit some neighbor had given him and shortly
produced the identical thing in one of the three common seedling varieties,
the Turpentine, the Red Elevens or possibly the Peach. All were small and
certainly not distinguished looking fruit. All had an attractive flavor to
the mango fancier, but were filled with fibre which was firmly attached to
the large seed. Definitely they were no basis for commercial culture and
sale, though a few did find their way, packed in hampers or tomato crates,
to the few cities in the rest of Florida large enough to have a trade in fruit.
I can still recall these seedlings poured out in the old fashioned dis-
play window of the grocery store of E. N. Brady at the southwest corner of
present Flagler Street and Miami Avenue, then as now, the center of Miami.
They made their presence known by their aroma as one passed inside the
swinging screen doors, brightening up the dark interior with their yellow
shades, with some pink on the turpentines and even a little red on the Red
Elevens, where the black spots did not cover it.
The progressive mango fan, even then, had a little better choice than that.
It was possible to buy nursery stock in several budded varieties if one could
find where. The most famous of these was the Mulgoba, with a more distin-
guished history than the small random overflow from the West Indies which
Miamians knew best. Its introduction from its original home in the foot-
hills of India was the first important step in a modern mango industry for
Florida. This had happened unnoticed years before. In 1889 Professor
Elbridge Gale and the United States Department of Agriculture had collab-
orated, with an assist from a favoring Providence, in bringing three small
live trees half way around the world by ship. Undoubtedly they were in-
arched stock, the cumbersome method by which superior mango varieties
HAROLD W. DORN
were then propagated. Professor G. Marshall Woodrow, formerly Professor
of Botany at the College of Science, Poona, India, (near Bombay) said in
his booklet, The Mango, published in 1904, "Plants of the Mulgoba variety
were sent to Florida by the writer in 1889, and have given much satisfaction".
Travelers agree that mango trees dot the landscape of India, many sev-
eral hundred years old, with the native rulers propagating those most desir-
able in their gardens. The Indian mango, unlike the scrub West Indians. is
monoembryonic and does not come true from seed. There had been a selec-
tion for quality going on in India for centuries, both by natives and the
English, from which our Department of Agriculture reaped the benefit, as
These trees were planted by Professor Gale near West Palm Beach,
which has had an honorable share in the development of this tropical fruit.
The freeze of 1895 radically changed the horticultural geography of Florida,
as did the later ones of 1899-1900. Even the comparative safety of West
Palm Beach was not enough and two of the trees died. However one Mulgoba
was left and in 1898 it produced a good crop of fruit. From so slender and
precarious a beginning has come an industry, but slowly and with many
This fruit was evidently a tremendous advance over the small seedlings.
Even today, after nearly sixty years, the Mulgoba has no superior in basic
quality. It has been the most distinguished of all imports from India. Prac-
tically without fibre, its smooth flesh has a delightful, mild but piquant
flavor. Many of its descendants excel it in size and outward color, though
its fruit hanging outside the trees has a large patch of distinctive scarlet.
Its great trouble has been its failure to bear fruit regularly. The original
trees in India are reported to be at an elevation of some 3000 to 4000 feet,
quite different from this new home at sea level. More than one fruit tree has
been thrown completely out of stride by a great change in surroundings (or
ecology, if one prefers), by differences in altitude, temperature and moisture.
Fortunately the climate of Florida corresponds, though not too closely, to
the dry winters and wet summers of the mango's native home.
Offhand, I would think Mulgobas of the lower East Coast have produced
fifteen or more commercial crops in the past forty-five years. We have had
one tree in our old home grove which seems to have done a little better than
that, even though only a dozen or two fruit may result. The trees seem to do
best after as cold a winter as does not actually frost the terminal wood, per-
haps confirming their origin in a more chilly altitude. In the warmest winters,
they may not even bloom. It must be said here in extenuation, that no variety
of mango in Florida has produced forty-five crops in forty-five years. Not
even the persistent seedlings can withstand freezing weather, nor can they
set a crop with frequent rains during blooming period. There must have
been about ten years in forty-five when frost or rain has prevented a mango
crop, more often in the first thirty years than the past fifteen. The last severe
cold in south Florida was in January, 1940; it appears that our winters have
become a little milder. Yet one raises Mulgobas for love, not for money.
Other selection of varieties was decidedly limited. It was possible, even
then, to buy trees of the Paheri and Bennett Alphonse. George Cellon listed
the first in his catalog and he had a little private stock of the second. Both
were original imports of the new Bureau of Plant Introduction of the U. S.
Department of Agriculture. This is where Dr. David Fairchild enters the
picture. He had been placed in charge of mango introduction and from 1901
on had sent in some eighty selected Indian varieties to the Miami Garden.
Paheri and Bennett proved to be two of the best.
The full name of the latter is Douglas Bennett's Golden Alphonse.
Bennett was another of those far-ranging Englishmen in India, who had
helped to tidy up and catalogue the fruit trees of that sub-continent. He had
found a number of Alphonse varieties, including the "white Alphonse" and
others. The Bennett was, (and is, for there are still a few trees around),
hardly larger than the old seedlings. However, its quality is outstanding.
Without fibre, it has a fragrance all its own, and its smooth flesh has a highly
distinctive flavor. Even its skin, with its olive green tinge and pale yellow
color when ripe, is different. It has always seemed to me as marked off from
all the other Indian varieties which have fruited here.
Over on the other side of Florida, the Reasoner brothers had even then
made some direct importations of their own from India. Due to lack of roads
until the late twenties, they seemed as far from Miami as Alabama is today.
It was not until 1928 that I finally visited their nursery on a country road
southeast of Bradenton, where I saw their importations from perhaps thirty
years earlier. Unfortunately none had proved to be outstanding by Florida
standards, nor had most fruited freely in their new home. Their large Gola
and Langra Benarsi have been fruited on the lower East Coast, in fact we
had a few to pack this year. A few enthusiasts still keep the old varieties
alive. But the experience of the Reasoners, as well as the Bureau of Plant
Introduction, has shown how difficult it was to find mango trees at any
HAROLD W. DORN
Indian cross-roads that will conform to the exacting demands of tree culture
and successful modern fruit marketing in the United States.
There was another mango variety to be obtained in Dade County, the
Cecil. Out in the country, on the old Orange Glade Road, then 20th Street
in the city, and now 8th Street or the Tamiami Trail, where the present 17th
Avenue crosses it, was the home and original citrus grove of the Hickson
brothers. Back from their white house on the corner stood this tree, already
large. There Robert and I saw for the first time the scaffolding and small
wooden tree boxes needed in the inarching practice. Then and for some years
later, there was only one nurseryman who could bud the difficult mango in
the general manner of citrus propagation, George Cellon, of whom more later.
The Cecil was named for the younger Hickson brother. It is, of course,
the same as the Manila of the countries below us, a yellow fruit of rather
small size, long and narrow, with a long seed and little fibre. It has a tart
flavor, which some still prefer, in this day of sweet mangoes. Undoubtedly
it belongs to the other great family of mangoes, the Indo-Chinese or Saigon,
many of which, but not all, come true to variety from seed.
In the late spring and summer of 1911, when our tomato farming was
finished, Robert and I had the opportunity to investigate the local mango
situation. On our motorcycle, we two visited and interviewed nearly everyone
we could hear about who had an interest in both mangoes and avocados. It
was soon plain that two men could qualify as authorities on these tropical
fruits, Edward Simmonds and George B. Cellon.
Edward Simmonds was in charge of the old Brickell Avenue Plant Intro-
duction Garden, a gift or loan from some of the Brickell family. It was on
the west side of Brickell Avenue a few blocks south of the Miami River,
reached from town by the Avenue D or Miami Avenue bridge. Simmonds and
his wife were English, from London. He, as a practical gardener of great
skill, and a product of the famous Kew Gardens, was also an executive with
considerable imagination. The function of this small section of the United
States as host to the immense plant variety of the far-ranging tropical world,
permanently excited him. Not only could he make these frail travelers from
the tropics grow and flourish, but he had a vast enthusiasm for their possi-
His assistant was Charles Steffani, since then for many years Agricultural
Agent for Dade County. His superior in this project, both so practical and
so idealistic, was Dr. David Fairchild, head of the Bureau of Plant Introduc-
tion, but Fairchild was traveling over the tropical world, in India and else-
where. In all our random visits to the Garden in those early years, I think
we met him in person only once, before he made his permanent home here,
in the late twenties. It was a good team; Fairchild selected and shipped
these tropical plant possibilities and Simmonds took care of them on arrival
and did his best to make them flourish. Far from all of these immigrants
succeeded in their new home; that was recognized as one of the unavoidable
hazards of this planned migration.
Edward Simmonds was never too busy to show his large and flourishing
plant family to visitors. Something must be done with all these silent board-
ers, and interest aroused among those who would spend their own time and
money in expanding their culture. The Department of Agriculture had a
very practical objective, to introduce a sufficient volume of commercial
plants and trees to assure that, after a period of trial and error, they would
contribute not only to a greater variety of food and other products for Amer-
icans, but also add to the wealth of the American producing sections. There
are other interesting stories among their importations, probably the greatest
in drought or disease resistant grains. Lower Florida, however, was fortunate
in that the products of so great an area of the tropical world were funnelled
into a small section. That section, it must be said, was not truly tropical,
but the nearest to it available on the U. S. mainland. Frosts descended upon
us, occasionally severe, and these new plants all had that gauntlet to run,
before their value to us was proved.
Simmonds was a quiet man with a friendly smile and a rollicking eye,
which took in everything. He and his charming wife lived in a frame house
on Brickell Avenue in the northeast corner of the Garden. He was never to
be found there except at meal time. Somewhere out in the small maze of slat.
houses and planting bins, he and his assistants labored silently, with an air
of secret and urgent enterprise. There we would find him, with a battered old
felt hat atop his graying hair, planning some new move in his campaigns.
What was new? Oh, yes, he would say, here is something I want to show you,
and away we would go. New plants had arrived and were or were not doing
well, some tree was doing famously, here was a new fruit. The Garden was
old enough so that the present showing in some items was impressive, but
not so old that it had become routine. Simmonds and Steffani and the station
itself, even in that quiet setting, seemed to be in a perpetual excitement, at
least to anyone interested in horticulture.
In that summer of 1911, we saw for the first time the fruit of some of the
Bureau's mango introductions, and on the original trees, or at most one
HAROLD W. DORN
remove. That Sundersha tree near the house was large, with an impressive
crop of the enormous fruit. Simmonds shook his head a little. With all the
show, it wasn't a good mango. It proved later to be a somewhat better parent
than a fruit in its own right. The Amini was loaded, good color, but small.
I believe he had the Paheri in bearing, too, not showy, but he was enthus-
iastic about its eating quality. Then there were other mango trees, large
enough to bear, but with no fruit. Showing the label and giving it an extra
pat, he would tell us when the tree had been imported and from where and
what the fruit should be like. Some trees were small and if they did not bear
this year, probably they would next.
He was engaged in work on avocados, too. As I recall, he had a good
sized Pollock tree, and either then or soon, his seedling of the Pollock, which
was named after him. This Simmonds he was watching carefully and in it
he felt surer every year that the growers could avoid the tendency of the
Pollock to fail to bear in some years. The big importation of Central Amer-
ican avocados was still a good many years ahead.
Two things were much on his mind. One was the new Haden mango.
We had heard of it before, but here was first hand information. Its fame had
in a way already preceded it. In the previous summer it had borne an excel-
lent crop on the estate of Captain Haden at Coconut Grove.
Captain John J. Haden, of the Eighth U. S. Infantry, in 1896 had been
stationed at Fort D. A. Russell in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Eye trouble forced
his retirement. While planning to move somewhere in the southeastern states,
he happened to note an article in Cosmopolitan Magazine, describing the new
Flagler railroad that had just been completed into Miami. A subscription to
the new and lively Miami Metropolis sharpened his curiosity, so in the early
fall he came to Florida, with his wife, Florence.
After traveling around central Florida for a time by wagon, they arrived
in Miami in November, 1896. He was shown the still older Coconut Grove
section by two pioneer real estate men, Fred Morse and E. A. Waddell. The
first time he took Mrs. Haden there, they went from Miami to Coconut Grove
by boat and walked back by the old hammock road. They soon bought a
thirteen acre tract overlooking the Bay, about a mile south of the old Peacock
Inn, and built their home there.
From the start, the Captain was interested in tropical plants and fruits
and collected all he could find, especially mangoes. When the original Mul-
goba tree in Palm Beach County produced its notable crop in 1898, he had
gone to see it. He brought home a couple of dozen fruit and soon planted
the seed in grove formation southeast of his house. This was east of the
extension of Douglas Road south from the old Coconut Grove road, now
known as Ingraham Highway. Mrs. Haden later sold that part of the prop-
erty to Hugh Matheson. Most unfortunately, Captain Haden died in 1903
and never saw the full result of his experimental planting. Mrs. Haden con-
tinued to live on the old place for many years, until she died recently, a
gracious lady who was always grateful for any praise of her husband's fruit.
The block of trees bore there for many years. On all I have seen, the
other fruit was smaller, though most had at least some color. Only one tree
had this large, brilliant red and yellow fruit. In the summer of 1910 it pro.
duced a heavy crop, which had deeply impressed the local horticulturalists.
These are the important dates for the mango in Florida, 1898 and 1910.
Nature works slowly and with the mango at least, makes her own
crosses. Every effort for man-made crosses of this fruit by artificial pollina-
tion has failed, right up to today. Because of this, the other parent of the
Haden mango is unknown, but the evidence points strongly to the old seedling
turpentine variety rather than the Red Eleven, the only two possible sources.
It is notable that the fruit is larger than both its parents together and its
color higher than their combined color. The early season, the thick, shiny
skin, and the seed fibre evidently come from the turpentine. The shape and
the flavor are evidently a combination.
It would be difficult to overestimate the importance of the Haden mango
to the industry that was starting to develop. It was the first break-through
into notable size and color, with acceptable quality. Even today, after
direct competition with a seemingly endless array of newer varieties, Haden
fruit runs more heavily than most to the sizes which the various commercial
outlets prefer,-no-t including its "dwarfs", of course. Its clear, bright colors
dominate the assortments of other fruits in the grocers' bins. Some of its
blood is in many of its present competitors.
The Haden also represents the hybrid strain, which is important to us
in domesticating foreign fruits. The Indian imports, with a different back-
ground, at least in altitude where found, crossed with the already adapted
sea-level relatives, usually produce trees better suited to our conditions, and
more prolific. Simmonds was a strong advocate of this crossing. It has
proved an especially valuable advance in our fall-bearing avocados. The
entire Booth series of hybrids is the result of a natural crossing of Guata-
malan imports with the local West Indian type.
HAROLD W. DORN
Edward Simmonds had secured some quantity of budwood from Mrs.
Haden the previous summer, part of which he had turned over to Cellon, the
nurseryman. He himself had some growing buds in his older trees, but of
course had nothing for sale.
Simmonds other enthusiasm was for the Saigon mango. This, also known
as the Chinese or Indo-Chinese type, is the other great family of the mango.
Its native home was in Indo-China, the Philippines and other tropical main-
land and islands of that vast area. He had received a barrel of seed from
the Bureau some nine years before, shipped from the port of Saigon. The
resulting trees were his especial pride in those days. He admired their strong
growth, and their long, glossy, dark green leaves. This indicated, he was sure,
a better adaptation to our conditions than the Indian type, which at times, in
the rocky upper end of the Garden, could look a little stunted and its leaves
rather shabby. He had some fruit to show, but we noticed that even then not
all his trees were bearing. These Saigons were the typical long yellow fruit,
not highly differentiated, without fibre and with only occasionally a touch of
pink. They mostly come true from seed.
The necessity of budding any Indian variety, to give the grower any
assurance of uniformity of product, had been a limiting factor so far, as
budding, even inarching, had proved decidedly difficult. The prospect of
planting a grove from seed looked easy and cheap. I have often wondered
what would have happened if the Haden had not come along just at that time.
Dade County might have started off the same way it had on avocados, with
seedling groves of long yellow and green mangoes, and lost another ten years.
We would have been about even with Cuba, the other West Indies and Mexico,
whose better fruit is mostly the same type.
It became evident that we had to visit George B. Cellon, as he seemed to
be the key to any actual planting of mangoes. Luckily he wasn't far away.
To reach his nursery our motorcycle took us up the then Avenue B, now
Second Avenue Northeast, from down-town Miami to Buena Vista, now at
36th Street. This was then the only road north from Miami. Buena Vista
was a separate suburb and on the way there one could see Biscayne Bay off
to the east through the pine trees. At Buena Vista we turned west on the
AIlapattah Road (36th St.), which led out to the farming section there.
Three quarters of a mile west, Cellon owned some thirty or forty acres of
land on the south side. This was planted to oranges on the road frontage,
behind the mortared native rock wall that surrounded his whole domain. We
turned off on a private road, later to become Seventh Avenue, Northwest.
Down this was his house, a two story cement block building. Perhaps it was
a fragment of France in this new country, for it looked like some rural villas
there. The stone of the house was "rusticated" in the European manner, and
the front had a two story portico. The wall in front was curved into the
driveways that led around the house, and marked off by pillars with a jaunty
cement capping. Back of the house lay that mysterious and mostly secret
area of his slat houses, where he was then and later to perform those miracles
of tree production.
George Cellon was a descendent of a French family that had emigrated
to South Carolina long before. He himself had been born in north Florida.
In Gainesville, Florida, he and his brother had operated the East Florida
Nursery through the later part of the 19th century. That "East Florida" is
interesting. Cellon himself went back to the period when the distinction was
not yet between North and South Florida in the popular mind. There hardly
was a South Florida to be reckoned with; one lived in either East or West
The terrible freeze of 1895 had badly damaged his nursery in Gaines-
ville. He, like Flagler and many others, heard reports of that far southerly
section of Florida, where coconut palms grew wild and the orange trees had
not been damaged. When Flagler extended his railroad to Miami, and
another freeze followed, George CeIlon had moved here. His nursery cata-
logues proudly stated "Established 1901". He had immediately planted a
small grove and started his new nursery. He had done it all alone and had
never changed his location.
Robert and I first met him on that hot summer morning, posting his
ledger in his office in the northwest corner, ground floor of that timeless
house. He was a slight dark man, never robust, dressed in his working clothes,
like everyone else. He could dress up to go to bank or on a trip with the best
of them in those days, when almost no one but Everest George SewelI really
dressed up in the modern manner. I never realized until later how thor-
oughly French he was, intelligent, canny, cautious, earthy, direct and ruthless
in judgment of people, with a profound practical sense of what could and
what could not be done. Yet, for a practical man, he lived a life of "calcu-
lated risk" in this new country. The orange grove had been planted as a
hedge of caution, but launching a nursery business devoted to avocados and
mangoes among the few thousand souls from Palm Beach south at the turn
of the century was pure audacity. He had seen from the start that the climate
gave the section its unique advantage in tropical fruits, while half of Florida
could still grow citrus.
HAROLD W. DORN
That judgment, which was to be vindicated ever since, he explained to
us that morning. He took us out into the nursery, where the more tender
plants stood in their rows of small wooden boxes under the half shade of
lattice, with the older trees out in the sun to harden. He went over the limited
varieties with us, the best which that period and an intelligent search afforded.
He had the Pollock and Trapp avocados, both West Indians, of course, and
both local products. The Pollock had been found in a yard on the north
side of Miami, north of old First Avenue and south of the original cemetery
that bordered the west side of Avenue B. The Trapp tree had originated
beside the home of C. L. Trapp and Harlan Trapp on the small bluff over-
looking Biscayne Bay, opposite Dinner Key. In those days the Trapp fruit
was not picked before September and October and often held into November,
In mangoes, he had trees of the Mulgoba, Paheri and Bennett Alphonse
for sale. The Mulgoba had been his particular pride. His current catalog
had a plate duly trade marked, showing the fruit in the primitive printing
colors of the time. He had the best nurseryman's instinctive grasp of a good
commercial fruit. The common seedling mangoes were beneath notice, but
the Mulgoba could be halved and eaten with a spoon, as the plate showed.
He also bought, shipped and sold both mangoes and avocados, continuing this
for some years. When we called on him again a little later, he gave us a
Mulgoba fruit, I think our first.
Of course, Cellon knew all about the Haden mango. It should supersede
the Mulgoba to a great extent but it still had to be proved in commercial
planting. He was right then engaged in converting a few sticks of budwood
into the first thousand of the many thousand nursery trees he was to produce,
a feat of horticultural magic for which he was uniquely equipped. He finally
did this in just under two and a half years. But no details now, please. This
was going on in a part of the enclosure which no one except him and his
men ever saw. Others tried to bud the mango, but CeIlon and Del Drawdy,
his assistant, actually did it.
On that first visit we also met Mrs. Cellon. She was the Lula of the Lula
avocado, which is another story. Like some daguerreotype out of an old
album, she fitted the shadows of the timeless house, quiet, and shyly smiling.
They had no children.
We were to see a great deal more of George Cellon. In the next dozen
years, we were to buy some thousands of small trees from him, both avocado
and mango. I recall taking the mule and wagon from our location on present
Sunset Road and driving up to the nursery for more than one load of trees
in their shingle boxes. With a few errands in town, it took a full day, there
and back. I would think that the late Tom Pancoast of the Collins grove at
the Beach and Dorn Brothers could have given as good a recommendation as
anyone on the quality of his trees and their ability to grow and produce
freely under reasonable care. Cellon had an immense, and sometimes vocal,
pride in his own integrity, with which I could never differ. I can see him,
under a mango tree, clipping off a corner of his plug of tobacco with his
budding knife, and shaking the knife at me. "Harold," he would say, "you
and Robert plant these trees yourselves, plant them high and keep them
watered as I tell you, and they will grow. They are racehorses." That last
word was emphasized by a final shake of the knife, with all the pride of their
creator. And they were racehorses.
On the south side of Sunset Road, and the east side of 69th Avenue, if
it were carried through as a public road, is a row of mango trees,-or what
is left of it, after the perils of wood fires that were to plague the county for
thirty years. The first of these are Mulgobas, the south part the first Hadens
that we bought from Cellon, planted in November, 1912. They are some of
the first Haden trees ever put out for commercial planting in this or any other
county. They passed from our care, when the grove was sold after the 1925
boom. I chanced on George Cellon on the street in Miami during that land
boom. He shook his head sadly. No one was buying trees any more (neither
were we!). Everybody wanted just to buy and sell land and horticulture was
This advocacy of planting tropical trees for a tropical country impressed
Robert and myself from the start. Undoubtedly Simmonds and Cellon were
right. We had already picked out some land west of present South Miami
and were told by a number of growers, even then, that this should be one of
the best locations for both avocados and mangoes in the County. It had been
ten years since Florida had experienced a bad freeze and the main citrus
section in central Florida was reported to be pushing south rapidly along the
Ridge and elsewhere.
Yet the larger grapefruit growers of the county mostly considered avo-
cados and mangoes beneath them. Or at least they were too experimental,
with very limited demand. None of the Peacocks, the Hicksons, the Potters,
the Davis brothers, with several groves in charge, the Friendly Groves under
Mr. Jones, or Charlie LeJeune or Dick Rice, branched out into avocado grow-
HAROLD W. DORN
ing. The Hickson brothers and Ed Davis were interested in the mango, but
on a small scale. George Merrick, who was coming up with a rush, did most
of his expanding in grapefruit acreage after 1910, and became the largest
owner-shipper of citrus in the county, before he turned to subdividing land.
All these men rode with the grapefruit market into its decline. Other sections
of the state increasingly undermined Dade County's advantage, even in the
early season, and the land boom in 1925, plus the hurricane in 1926, practic-
ally finished the entire citrus section around Miami. The Redland area con-
tinued, but with increasing difficulty.
So the planting of avocado groves, and mangoes, too, was practically
all in the hands of new interests. In the period between 1910 and 1920, the
largest single block on the mainland was the Bliss grove, running from
present northeast Second Avenue east to the Bay from about present 40th
to 50th Street. It comprised about 40 acres, and was later sold to James
Deering. Still later Biscayne Boulevard was pushed through it and it has now
disappeared in the vast increase of urban home building. So has the large
grove, planted by the Collins family on Miami Beach, west of Indian Creek
and north of Dade Boulevard, once the largest single producing avocado grove
in the county, which meant in the United States. Both these groves had a
bordering row of mangoes around them. The Trapp was the principal
avocado variety, because it would outlast the summer period of Cuban im-
ports. The avocado was far better known than the mango in the North, mostly
because of the Cuban fruit. Yet the two fruits were usually mentioned to-
gether and their history is closely intertwined.
The man who, aside from Cellon himself, first plunged into a main
planting of mangoes was W. E. March. He owned the Halcyon Hotel, Miami's
especial pride, next only to Flagler's Royal Palm. He also owned and
farmed the old Frohock tract of glade land north of Snapper Creek and west
of the railroad. In the course of our first farming, adjoining his large tomato
field, we had met him and learned of his mango planting. This consisted of
Mulgobas, with I think a few Paheris, and was located on the old Cutler
Road, now occupied by the Fairchild Garden. To reach it, we continued
along the Bay road several miles below the W. A. Larkins home and dairy,
at the east end of present Sunset Road. It had two long rows of very large
Mulgoba trees along the road, with smaller trees behind them. March either
shipped his own fruit or George Cellon bought it from him. It was not until
some years later, when March sold the grove to Snowden, the oil man, that
we bought a couple of crops of the fruit.
The frontispiece of Cellon's 1912 nursery catalog was an enlargement of
a photograph, in colors, with some artistic license, showing a large well-
fruited Mulgoba tree in the foreground with smaller Mulgoba trees filling
in the rear. Under the tree are George, in his Sunday best, and W. E. March,
also in coat, tie and hat, plus four visitors from India. These young men,
one with turban and one with fez, are labeled The Hindoos and, as I recall,
were visitors from an Indian agricultural college, evidently interested in
what was happening to their mango in this strange, rocky country. In the
lower left corner is inserted the Cellon trade-mark, two halves of the lMulgoba
in red and yellow, on a small plate, with a spoon under the loose seed. I
must confess I regard the picture with an affection beyond that justified by its
Another factor in the nursery business in tropical fruits, not much later,
was William J. Krome. He had been engineer for the extension of the Florida
East Coast Railway to Key West, making a brilliant solution of the prob-
lem of a dependable road-bed between the Keys. His avocation was the
raising of avocados and mangoes on his grove a mile and a half north of
Homestead. Later, he started a nursery at the same location. His avocations
alone would have been full time work for anyone else. When the county road
was put through to Homestead, it gave the new town much readier access to
the outside world, and we traveled down to see him and Mrs. Krome occasion-
ally. Later we bought several blocks of avocado trees from him, which did
I recall visiting him one Saturday afternoon about 1920 at his small
office and shed in the grove at the northeast corner of present Krome and
Avocado roads. He had been keeping records of production from his Trapp
avocados from some years, as an extra-extra chore. Even then the Trapp was
considered to be a tree given to good crops in alternate years. A great part
of this was caused by holding the fruit to the latest possible dates. However,
he told me that he had just found that his trees with the most pronounced
alternate year tendency had in the previous six years borne a higher total
of fruit than those that had borne every year. The willing workers carried a
crop until they were exhausted, and after a rest, went at it again. Humans
are like that, too. Krome himself, in a way, was like the willing workers, as
I thought later. A slender, taut, withdrawn man, he had no mercy on him-
self and died much too young of a failing heart, and perhaps a similar
exhaustion. The last time I saw him, Francis Dolan and I were calling on
him about our fight to secure a duty on foreign avocados and we needed his
HAROLD W. DORN
counsel. He was propped up in bed, under doctor's orders, with a mind as
clear and incisive as ever. Only the body had failed him.
He ranged around in the expanding world of varieties in both fruits,
and with Cellon, was a pioneer on the new California and Guatamalan
avocados. I recall buying a Cambodiana and a Totafari mango from him
from my home place, but the Haden was still king. However it did not do as
well in the Redland district as it did around Miami. The best nurserymen
were constantly on the prowl for an extension in varieties. Partly this would
be for profit, but there was a large intangible motive of extending our knowl-
edge, as well as our standing in the world of horticulture.
Mrs. Krome followed her husband most ably in the fields of groves and
nursery. From the earliest days they had built up an extensive and interest-
ing collection of mangoes and she fortunately continues today to be one of
our foremost authorities on mango varieties.
By 1920 Robert and I undoubtedly had more avocado trees under our
care than anyone in the Miami area, unless it was the Collins grove. But our
groves were scattered, and mostly we managed them for other owners in the
North. As to mangoes, that is Hadens, whether we exceeded the Collins grove
I do not know. It still had a good many Mulgobas, showing its early start.
The Haden had fully lived up to its advance billing. Many householders,
after one look at its brilliant coloring, wanted a tree for their yards. Our
increasing number of newcomers would plant several acres of avocados and
perhaps only a few budded mangoes. Quite commonly mangoes were used
for an outer row, partly as a windbreak. Their faster growth, greater
height, and heavier head, plus the fact that their fruit came off before the
hurricane season, made this eminently sensible.
Our own problem was to interest people living a thousand to 1500 miles
away in putting money into fruits of which they had hardly heard. Even
samples by mail in season did not produce as much interest as we would have
liked. A doctor in Chicago, even if he had spent some winter vacations here,
was much like the big local grapefruit growers. He was accustomed to see-
ing Florida grapefruit in the stores for six months of the year, knew it well,
and had bought a great many. But there were only a few expensive avocados
in the best fruit stores. He would really have to hunt for a mango in Chicago,
or its season passed so swiftly that he had missed it. Our winter tourists could
see mango trees in bloom, but never any mature fruit. They could go out
any day and pick grapefruit and oranges. Dr. Fairchild was always con-
cerned with the ultra-conservative taste of the American people in the matter
of new foods. I am sure that many of our samples of new fruits, that we con-
sidered both fine eating, attractive and highly marketable, met with a lot of
"consumer resistance". We were still planting grapefruit and oranges, but
we would manage to wangle an order to plant a couple of acres of the new
avocados and anything from a couple of trees to a windbreak row of the
still stranger mango.
Our efforts to make these new fruits known had an even more important
angle for us. We had started to ship avocados and mangoes ourselves in
1913 and in 1914 we built a packing house on the Larkins side-track of the
Florida East Coast Railway for all local produce, vegetables as well as
fruit. The largest local item was still tomatoes, though R. W. Brown here
had almost a monopoly on them at the start. Our largest line was grapefruit,
with a volume from 1915 to 1925 some ten to twenty times that of avocados.
At the start mango volume trailed away behind even avocados. The
Haden trees we had planted from 1913 to 1915 finally started to come into
production. However, Dade County had received a bad blow in the freeze of
February, 1917. Some of our finest trees from Cellon were entirely killed,
when less than a year old. Avocado trees three and four years old were
killed back to wood an inch or more in diameter. Mango trees suffered also,
but it was interesting to note that the damage was not quite so drastic as on
the West Indian varieties of avocados. Out in the northwest section of Miami
even some citrus trees were badly hurt. On the other hand, the new Home-
stead area produced a few avocados that same summer, having missed as low
temperatures as we, and the Collins grove escaped much damage. Yet our
tender tropical charges that were still alive came back nobly. Within a year
it took close examination to find where they had been hurt. However, this
freeze placed the variations of the county and its climate in perspective for
us. No other low temperatures in 45 years have been any worse, though a
number other freezes have been destructive to tropical trees in that time,
and tender vegetables have been hurt still more often.
In the summer of 1920 we had our own first important crop of Haden
mangoes, all from young trees and of most reassuring quality. At the start,
anthracnose did not seem to exist in our new section and we did not realize
how well off we were. That trouble from black spotting started later and
the end of the next ten years found the situation very much impaired.
The twenties witnessed further increase in mango production, especially
in the first five years. A state census in 1925 showed about 8000 mango trees
HAROLD W. DORN
planted in Dade county, within its present boundaries, less than 150 acres.
There was serious cold in 1928 and at least one rainy winter. The collapse
of the land boom in 1926 turned peoples' thoughts back to fruit growing and
farming, but very few had any money and progress was slow. That decade
saw the first of the hybrid mango additions to the Haden. These were the
green and prolific Brooks and the huge and brilliant Springfels.
After 1930 the finding of new hybrid mangoes stepped up. It was all
due to the valuable habit in individual residents of planting the seed of some
fruit they had admired. Mostly these were Haden fruit, with some Mulgoba
and Sundersha. Only one parent is known in any case and sometimes determ-
ining either parent later is a guess. By now we have many grandchildren of
the first hybrids in bearing. The Haden set a standard difficult to surpass,
but the proliferation of new varieties,-or at least new seedlings,-continues
endlessly. Anyone with a promising seedling tree can have more like it
budded, or turn the tree over to some nurseryman, and presto, another new
variety appears. Some hybrids have been crosses with the Saigon type. The
Saigons themselves have been neglected all along, mostly because of the
steady commercial requirement for high color.
Today we are probably in the middle period of the mango in Florida,
with many contenders for popularity. Similarly forty years ago in middle
Florida, a great number of orange varieties had their advocates. It is doubt-
ful that the mango, in its final mature stage, can ever be limited to the equiv-
alent of the Pineapple and Valencia orange for larger planting, but there
looms a gradual "combing out" of varieties. Undoubtedly promising new
fruits will continue to appear and we may yet find the perfect mango.
This Page Blank in Original
A Seminole Personal Document
By WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT
Local history relies for some of its detail and much of its atmosphere
on the autobiographical reminiscences of elderly local natives and early
settlers. Several years ago I had the good fortune to become acquainted with
one of the oldest people born in the Miami region and a continuous inhabi-
tant of it, and to record some of his family traditions and his personal
reminiscences of life in this area. This old man differs from the ordinary
native whose memories are collected for local history, in being an Indian.
In the summer of 1950 I was engaged in linguistic research among the
Mikasuki Seminole on the Dania Reservation.1 I had been working about
three weeks with Joseph W. Jumper, a young Seminole high school student,
when I suggested to him that he try to arrange for an elderly person to record
some texts on my wire recorder. Joe had himself recorded a few texts, but
I had nothing from anyone else. The most noticeable old man on the Dania
Reservation was Sam Huff: he was the only one there who always wore the
old-fashioned Seminole 'big shirt'-a garment with constricted waist, long
skirt, long sleeves, and top buttoned down the front, decorated with inset
strips of colored cloth and patchwork designs (see figure 2). I discovered
later that he and Joe enjoyed an informal joking relationship, apparently on
Sam Huff's initiative (although this never passed the bounds of propriety;
in the Seminole view, one must be careful how one interacts with elderly
people, nearly all of whom possess some magical powers). At this late date,
I do not remember whether the original suggestion that Sam Huff be
approached was mine or Joe's-but my notes do record the fact that I did not
tell Joe what sort of text I wanted. In fact, I did not care, as my intention
at that time was merely to collect a sample of speech for linguistic analysis.
Joe told me later that he had not suggested any specific topics to the old man.
So the subjects Sam Huff talked about, and their organization, were entirely
his own choice.
Why did he agree to do it? Joe Jumper, who urged him to, was a
particular friend of his and Sam Huff as well as many other older people
thought him outstanding among the younger generation in his steadiness,
quietness, and helpfulness. He also knew that he would be paid for the work.
About three weeks later he came to me on his own initiative to earn more
money by recording-but this time he sang, rather than telling any story.
I did not carry out my intention of transcribing Sam Huff's remarks in
a phonemic orthography and analyzing them dramatically. I must therefore
rely here on Joe Jumper's translation into English. The wording of this is
more natural and the translation more complete than is usually the case
when recording equipment is not used, because the narrator was not inter-
rupted, the translation being done from the recording, playing it for short
stretches and repeating these whenever the interpreter was in doubt. By this
stage of our work, Joe was aware of my desire for full and accurate transla-
tions, and had had some experience in providing these from wire recordings.
My own knowledge of Mikasuki at the time was minimal, although I was
able on occasion to question the interpreter about short phrases which seemed
to me to have been omitted. I have slightly revised my record of the transla-
tion for publication, but the revision consists solely in putting Joe's words
into grammatical and connected English sentences. I do not want to give the
impression that Sam Huff speaks broken Mikasuki (of course he does not),
or that his English is sufficient for such a recounting (it is not-he has but
a few words of'English, adequate only for the simplest conversation). On
the other hand, there seems no point in preserving the rather sub-standard
English of the interpreter, which has no bearing on the content of the texts.
I have not rearranged the order of what Sam Huff said, or omitted anything.
Additions of my own necessary for following the sense are put in square
In 1952, I interviewed Sam Huff again, going to him with Joe Jumper
and asking him to expand on some points in his earlier remarks. The ques-
tions translated by Joe, and the answers in Mikasuki, were recorded on a
wire recorder and later translated by another interpreter. This information
and data from other Seminole collected in 1952 are the basis of my discus-
sions preceding and following the text and in the footnotes-except where
citations to published or manuscript literature are given.
Sam Huff is in most respects a perfectly ordinary Seminole. He has the
respect due to age, but little more. His accomplishments and achievements
have been few, and he has not gained renown among his fellow tribesmen for
any special capabilities or knowledge, with the possible exception of a repu-
tation for being a better than average singer-but his voice is now broken
with age, and since he is Christian he no longer attends the religious cere-
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT
monies at which his knowledge of songs would be an asset. He is outstanding
only in his age, his dress, and his sib matrilineall descent group) membership.
In 1952 Sam Huff replied to a question, with some hesitation, that he
was 80 years old. Copies of 1917 and 1923 censuses in the files of the
Seminole Agency at the Dania Reservation give his (estimated) birth date as
1883. Sam Huff's own estimate may be better, since in a photograph taken
not later than 1897 (figure 1) he appears to be more nearly 25 than 14.
He was born, then, about 1872, at Pine Island, an old Seminole settlement
northwest of the present Dania Reservation, where he spent most of his
This place, known in Mikasuki as coyisoka:cok:Ii!:,1 'pine island (or
clump) place,' is well described in the published literature. It is between the
North and South New River Canals, opposite the head of the South Fork of
the New River and four or five miles within the Everglades. It is shown on
various maps (e.g., Squires, 1925, and Torras and Charlton, 1925; the area
is not yet covered by Geological Survey maps) as a crescentic hammock
extending some one and a half miles north and south and one and an eighth
miles east and west, in sections 17, 18, 19, and 20 of Township 50 S, Range
41 E-about three miles northwest of the center of the town of Davie, and
about four and a half miles northwest of the Dania reservation.
J. A. Henshall spent two days in late February, 1882, visiting the Sem-
inole village here, and wrote a pleasant account of his observations (Henshall,
1884: 152-166). Traveling about twenty miles up the South Fork of the
New River in a Seminole dugout canoe with sail, he emerged into the Ever-
glades and met Indians sailing between their village of 25 or 30 houses on
Pine Island, and their fields on smaller islands nearby. He noticed the busk
(Green Corn Dance) grounds with its ball pole at one side of the village.3
Among the inhabitants were Little Tiger, Little Tommie, Big Charley, and
Tommy Doctor. "These Indians lead a quiet, peaceable, and semipastoral
life, cultivating fields of corn, pumpkins, sweet potatoes, beans, bananas,
etc., in the rich hamaks on the adjacent islands, their villages being in the
pines on the border of the mainland [of the big island]. They also make
starch from the "komptie," or wild arrowroot,4 which grows abundantly in
the pine woods, and in the winter they hunt deer and bears. Such a life is
not without its charms, shut out, as they are, from all the world by impenetra-
ble cypress swamps, the only avenues to civilization being by way of the
streams which drain the Everglades, the currents of which are so swift during
high water that few attempt to ascend them to the Everglades, and still fewer
succeed. In the spring and early summer the Everglades are comparatively
dry; as Little Tiger said: "In two moons, all water gone-canoe no go more."
During the autumn and winter the men go to the settlements, mostly to Miami
on Biscayne Bay, by way of the Miami River, where they sell deerskins,
buckskin, beeswax, komptie starch, vegetables, bird plumes, alligator teeth,
etc., and buy cloth, calico, ammunition, tobacco, etc., and occasionally
wy-ho-mee (whisky)" (Henshall, 1884: 159-160).
Duncan (1898:ccxi-ccxiii) summarized the situation in this region six-
teen years later. He found two settlements on Pine Island, the family heads
including Miami Jimmie, John Jumper, Jimmie Tustenugee, Doctor Tommie,
Tommie Jumper, Old Charlie (Sam Huffs father), Charlie Willie, and Willie
Billie. Tommy Doctor, met by Henshall at Pine Island, in 1898 was living
on a smaller island about four miles southeast, with several other families in
the same neighborhood.
In 1952 Sam Huff told me that all the inhabitants of Pine Island when
he was young were Mikasuki, with two exceptions. The Miami Jimmie men-
tioned by Duncan-the Mikasuki form of his Indian name was yahaha:ci:,
'crazy wolf'-was a Cow Creek of the Tiger (i.e., Florida puma, Felis concolor
coryi) sib. The wife of Old John Jumper (the John Jumper mentioned by
Duncan) was also a Cow Creek Tiger. She was the mother of Annie Tommie
(wife of Doctor Tommie), who is the mother of the six well-known Tommie
brothers (Ben Frank, Frank, Brown, Jack, Sam, and Tony B.M.). Sam
Huff remarked that although Old John Jumper's wife was Cow Creek, and
the children learned Creek from her, the family ordinarily spoke Mikasuki.
The band affiliation of the children and their children is today a point of
discussion; there is room for doubt, since band affiliation does not follow
matrilineal descent as strictly as does sib membership, but is influenced by
residence and language.
I was told by a usually well-informed Seminole-who, however, some-
times is mistaken as to dates-that the Pine Island settlements dispersed
about 1900. He remembers visiting the place in 1901 and finding it aban-
doned. He maintained that some of the people moved onto the New River
nearer the present Fort Lauderdale-among these was Old John Jumper's
wife-and some moved south, closer to Miami. I presume Annie Tommie
and her sons went with her mother; Sam Huff may also have gone with them.
The family of Tommie Jumper may have been among those moving south.
At any rate, according to Nash (1931:21) "the Osceolas and Tommies who
were crowded from their Fort Lauderdale hammock in the days of the boom
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT
and the Jumpers crowded from the coast a few miles south," moved to the
Dania Reservation in 1926, when the government began the program there
Sam Huff is a member of the small sib called oklih6:ta:Li:, 'big towns
people,' in Mikasuki. This is one of the sibs present among the Mikasuki
Seminole but absent among the Creek-speaking Cow Creek Seminole, who
refer to it as talwaLakko, 'big town' (cf. Spoehr, 1941:15). Information on
the history of his sib obtained from Sam Huff in 1952, taken together with
corroborative and contradictory testimony from other Seminole, and with
information in the literature, gives some new data on Seminole history. Sam
Huff told me that his mother's mother had said that their sib was from 'white
town,' which they were forced to leave by the army which chased them
eventually to south Florida. At some point in their history, so their tradi-
tion runs, they found the Otter sib and in effect adopted it-the two sibs
thenceforth not intermarrying and in other ways behaving as though they
were one, while remembering that in origin they were different. At present,
the Otter sib is much the larger and more prominent; as a result, members
of Sam Huff's sib often casually refer to themselves as Otters, and are so
referred to by others. Furthermore, some members of the sib consistently
refer to themselves as k6ta:Li:, 'frog people,' perhaps in an effort to raise
their status, for the Big Towns sib is considered by many nonmembers to
have a somewhat subordinate position among the sibs, all the rest of which
have totemic names. Actually, frogs do serve as "totem" animals for the Otter
sib and also, by extension, for the Big Towns sib-in the sense that sib mem-
bers must defend them against joking by members of other sibs (this is a
common Mikasuki Seminole pattern; most sibs have several such animals, in-
cluding the eponymous one, which they must defend). Other Seminole deny
the right of Big Towns people to call themselves Frogs, and some insist that
the sib was discovered and adopted by the Otters, rather than vice versa (cf.
Greenlee, 1952:26; details he gives differ somewhat from fuller data I
obtained from the same informant in 1952).
Spoehr (1941:15) has noted the uniqueness of the nontotemic Mikasuki
Big Towns sib, and suggested that it may represent a disrupted town
which subsequently acquired sib status. This seems a likely explanation
and some further evidence may be cited. The tradition that the Big Towns
sib was "found" by the Otters points in this direction. The Cow Creek term
for the sib, talwaLikko, is also interesting (note that the Mikasuki name is
equivalent, except that the adjective is plural and I have quoted the name
with the ordinary plural suffix used with sib names, -a:Li:, here translated
'people'). This is one Creek name for the originally Hitchiti-speaking town
of Apalachicola (Swanton, 1922:129-130; Haas, 1945:72-73). Furthermore,
Apalachicola was referred to by Bartram in 1777 as the chief town of the
"peace" dual division of the towns of the Creek confederacy, and he also
stated that when it broke up, some of its inhabitants joined the Seminole
(Swanton, 1922:132-133). The towns of the peace division were commonly
referred to as "white," as opposed to the "red" or war towns-although the
modern Creek apparently do not use these terms (Swanton, 1928:249; Haas,
1940b: 479), and the distinction is not known among modern Florida
Seminole. Yet the association of white with peace, and of certain towns with
peace, is an old one among the Creek (Swanton, 1928:249-259; for the dual
division of towns, cf. Haas, 1940b). Hence Sam Huff's tradition of his sib's
origin from 'white town' makes sense with the early position.of Apalachicola.
The tradition is known to other Seminole: another informant remarked that
members of the sib often boast, "I'm big white city."
Hitchiti and Mikasuki are dialects of the same language; the Big Towns
sib comes from 'white town'; Apalachicola, a Hitchiti town, was once the
leading town of the peace or "white" division of the Creek. I suggest that
the Mikasuki Big Towns sib derives from the refugees from Apalachicola
who joined the Seminole in the eighteenth century.
As will be seen, Sam Huff omitted many facts about his life in the
account he recorded for me. His father was Old Charlie. One of his mother's
sisters married Robert Osceola, by whom she had at least five sons and two
daughters; four of these sons (members, of course, of the Big Towns sib)
are now leading men among the Tamiami Trail Seminole. Of Sam Huff's
siblings, my genealogies show only two brothers and one sister, all deceased.
In order of age, these are: Charlie Tommie, the eldest, father of Katy Smith
(wife of Morgan Smith) ; a sister, koyihci:, the wife of Willie Billie (men-
tioned by Duncan) and the mother of (at least) two living sons and three
living daughters, who, with the numerous children of the daughters, are all
Big Towns sib members; and Frank Charlie. Sam Huff is the youngest sibling.
I do not know Sam Huff's boyhood name. His adult name is hacikocok-
niha:ci:, 'crazy short tail' (for brief comments on Seminole names, see
Sturtevant, 1953:67). An indication of the isolation of Seminole busk
groups about 1890 or somewhat before, is the fact that Whitney Cypress, a
man about Sam Huff's age who died in 1951, had the same adult name. The
old men say that two living people should not have the same name, but it
(USNM neg. 13117)
FIc. 1. Group at Pine Island about 1897. Back row, left to right: Charley
Tiger (with gun), Sam Huff, Jackson Charlie (with gun), John Osceola,
Ben Frank Tommie. Front row seated, left to right: kiL6hyi:, ay6hci:,
koyihci: (without coin necklace), lithohki: (the first two were sisters of
Willie Tiger, the third of Sam Huff, the fourth of Doctor Wilson; identifi-
cations of the women are less certain than those of the men behind).
. .^ ~ V /1S.
*- r '
o , -.. :-.J,-
,(Ph- by. Ar Coh )
(Photo by Art Cohei)
FIG. 2. Sam Huff at the Dania Reservation in 1956.
WILLIAM C. STUR TEVANT
occasionally happens that busk groups are not in sufficiently close com-
munication to prevent duplicate names being given-and once given, a name
cannot be changed. Sam Huff was named at an east coast husk, perhaps at
Pine Island, whereas Whitney Cypress was named by Old Doctor at a husk
in the Big Cypress area."
The name "Sam Huff" was presumably borrowed from a local white
man. Note that Sam Huff's brothers had different surnames. In the earlier
records (e.g., Spencer, 1917) the name is spelled Hough; more recently and
today the spelling I use is the ordinary one. I remember having seen a men-
tion of a Fort Myers sheriff named Sam Hough; if my memory is not playing
me false (unfortunately I cannot now locate the reference), this must be the
source of the name. Today, the full English name is always used by the
Indians: "Sam Huff," never "Sam," and never his Indian name. I have
followed this usage here.
Before 1909, Sam Huff married a woman known as Jenny Tiger or
(more commonly) Rosalie, a member of the Tiger sib who is apparently a
granddaughter of Old John Jumper who lived at Pine Island-and thus
either Cow Creek or Mikasuki, depending on the relative weight given descent
and residence. Sam and Rosalie Huff had one son and three daughters, all
of whom are still alive. The eldest, Pocahontas, was born about 1909
(Spencer, 1923) and in 1950 was living at the Dania Reservation with her
children and her present husband, Josie Jumper. Lena, born about 1912
(Spencer, 1923), in 1950 was also living at Dania with her children and
present husband, Jack Billie. Frank Huff, born about 1914 (Spencer, 1923)
in 1950 was living on the Brighton Reservation with Mary, his Cow Creek
wife, and their children. Alice, born about 1918 (Spencer, 1923), was living
at Dania with her children and her present husband, Charley Billy Boy.
About 1920, Sam Huff was apparently living in the Dania-Fort Lauder-
dale region (perhaps on the hammock mentioned by Nash, referred to above),
for the Chicago Natural History Museum has two photographs (negatives
45522 and 45547) received in 1921, the captions of which refer to him as
living in Broward county. In one, he is shown with an alligator skin (he
told me that he used to sell alligator skins at Brown's Store at Boat Landing
on the present Big Cypress Reservation-this must have been before this
time); in the other, he is "eating breakfast" with a group of Mikasuki in a
In 1939, Sam Huff was living in a camp by himself on the Brighton
Reservation, where Rosalie was also living with two of their daughters and
their children. Sam Huff and Rosalie had then "long been divorced,"
although they remained friendly (Spoehr, 1944:143-144).
Translations of the two texts recorded in 1950 follow. Both were nar-
rated at the same sitting; between the two, the only interval was the time
necessary to play back the first for the narrator's benefit (and amusement).
Right over there [Pine Island, northwest of the Dania Reservation]
there used to be a big Indian camp, I mean it was big, and plenty of medi-
cine-men lived there. There were four camps right there-I mean there were
five camps-and they lived in them. There were plenty of medicine-men
living in those five camps. They had Green Corn Dances there, too. They
lived there and had [ceremonial] gatherings [this term is used for both
busks and Hunting or Snake Dances]. They stayed in those camps, and that's
where I began to know. Four camps had gone away then, but one was still
there, and the people were there in it.
There were no white people, except by the ocean where there was a
house called "station" with one white man living in it." There were just a
few white people around, and they were from far away. When they [the
Indians] first saw them coming, two people went down and told them to get
out of this place and keep on going. If they wanted to spend the night, they
would let them go to sleep, but they mustn't say anything. So they brought
them back [to the Indian camps] and they spent the night and went away
[Then] everybody was going to different places, scattering out to make
many little camps. The white people were moving closer, and they built a
town at Palm Beach. They were gradually moving down.
We didn't have any automobiles like we have today. They had what's
called 'wagons tied up with horses.' Mr. Stranahan was living in Ft. Lauder-
dale, but it wasn't a town then; he was living sort of in the woods,. Miami
was beginning to be a town, but Lemon City was already a town.-
They took letters and papers in a big wagon with a top on it and seats,
four seats, and people rode in it, although it was carrying the mail. They
changed the letters in Ft. Lauderdale, and another one took them to a place
called Lantana, on this side of Palm Beach, and they changed there in Lan-
tana to a big boat. From there the ship took the mail to a little village, and
a little train came from the north and took the letters to the north. Farther
north there was a big train which came and took those letters back, and
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT
scattered them all over. That's what they did for a long time, until Miami
was a big town, and then the trains went all the way to Miami.-o There were
no automobiles, only wagons fastened to horses to take the mail to the train
They used wagons to go to town for a while, and the town was gradually
getting bigger. They started making wagons without horses, and finally they
built houses for those cars, and the cars kept increasing. Things kept going
along, and gradually a big city grew up.
Steam shovels began to make canals in the Everglades. Steam shovels
came out of Ft. Lauderdale, and others came out of Deerfield, heading for
[Lake] Okeechobee." "Just as soon as they hit the lake, the water is going to
dry up in those Everglades, and as soon as the water dries up, they're going
to start plantations"-that's what the white people said to the Indians.
Another steam shovel went out from Dania, and another one from Miami.1'
Just as soon as they hit Okeechobee, the water was going to dry up. But I
didn't believe it, until they hit Okeechobee. Then the water dried up, and
even in Okeechobee it was dry too.13 The Everglades became small, and the
trees grew very fast.
There was nothing at the little ocean in front of Miami [i.e., Biscayne
Bay] except a few fishermen riding around. There were mangroves along
both sides. The mangroves went as far as a place called Little River, and
ended there. I saw that the place was all cleaned up, the last time I was there.
On the other side of Miami, where the little white ocean [Biscayne Bay]
leads, there is a little island called Coconut Grove, but the Indians call it
'Peace Treaty.'" In between Miami and Coconut Grove they had a war,
with soldiers coming from the ocean. At that time my grandmother was
coming this way [from the north], coming on and on until she had some
children, and she just kept on coming until she got here, and stayed here.
Governor Hendry was captain of the soldiers, but he was helping the
Indians. He had plenty of cows, and a house. He was helping the Indians,
but they made him captain of the soldiers. The soldiers wanted to fight the
Indians some more, but Governor Hendry said not to fight any more with
the Indians.1- Near Coconut Grove there was a big soldiers' boat, a big boat.
It was right where the deep water comes close to shore. It was a big boat,
and there were some soldiers in it ready to fight. Governor Hendry was
captain, and there was another captain named Jesup who was a captain of
soldiers.-1 Governor Hendry and Captain Jesup talked and talked, and
Governor Hendry said, "I think we'll just quit fighting the Indians, because
if we killed all the Indians it would be too bad. Let's make friends; right
now we'll make a peace treaty with the Indians." And they said, "If you
Indians want to do that way, it's all right with us." There was an Indian man
named Alec, from the Wind sib,-" who talked to the white people and said,
"That's all right with us." In those days we didn't have any man who could
talk English. They just used their fingers, trying to talk with them-that's
the way they talked.
Alec came back and said to them, "The Indians will kill a lot of white
people, and the white people will kill a lot of Indians, and so on until they
will kill all the Indians, then it's going to be too bad, so we'd better quit
right now and have a peace treaty. Let's quit and make friends and shake
hands. If a white man gets angry with an Indian, and the Indian gets angry
with a white man, and they kill each other, let it go, because they two caused
it themselves." The Indians said, "That's the way the law is going to be, that's
all right with us." That's the way they wanted it, so we went over to the big
boat where the soldiers were and shook hands with them and the white people
gave them something. A guard of soldiers was sent over here, and some
people thought that it was a trap, but some Indians went with them, and when
they got to the boat there was a ladder that went from the boat to the ground,
and they went in. They visited them, and shook hands with them, and the
white men gave the Indians gifts, and the soldiers said, "If you want to give
us something, you can give us chickens." After they got through, they came
back to their camps.
"When two people, Indians or white people, get angry with each other
and kill each other, that's the way it's going to be [i.e., no retaliation]," they
said. The soldiers in that boat came out and visited them, because we didn't
have any fighting any more.l8 The Indians called it Peace Treaty for a long
time, but the white people began to build houses and then it began to be
Coconut Grove. They started making houses, and they call it Coconut Grove
That's the way I heard it [that is to say, the above is tradition].
II. When I was a baby, first-I mean, when my mother and father held
me-When children are born, they drink milk, but I wasn't that way. I
wasn't born a healthy baby, I was born sick.
There were some white people living at Miami by the little ocean [Bis-
cayne Bay]. Just a little over on the other side of Lemon City there was a
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT
small island, and some poor white people were living on that island making
coontie.20 They made it and sold it, or just sent it off and sold it. Those
white people said, "Why don't you bring that baby to us? We might make
him well for you." My parents said, "Well, let's take him over, and find out
what they can do for him." My parents were living at Snake River.2 I
wasn't well enough to stand up, so I was staying in bed.
When I was a very little boy, I couldn't walk, or talk, or sit up. All the
Indian doctors were doctoring me, but I couldn't get well. "Let's take him
over to the white people. They don't have any medicine to use on him,
they're poor people and they don't know where they're going to get that
medicine, but we'll take him over and find out what they can do for him."
A baby grows with milk, but I wouldn't drink any milk and I didn't get
anything to eat, but just lay there on the bed. They took me over to them-
but they were poor people. They were making coontie, eating it and selling
it. "We took you over, and they made the medicine themselves, and they
used it on you. You were lying there on the bed, and we went over very often
to see you." It was a long time, I think I lay there about three months, but
I didn't know anything [yet]. He went over to tell them that I was feeling
better, and eating food. They didn't have any cow's milk or any kind of milk,
so I didn't drink any-that's the way I grew up.
When children grow up with their mothers, they drink human milk, but
I wasn't that way when I was growing up. I was born with a sickness, I
wasn't like the other children born without sickness. I was lying there and
the white people said, "You can have him [back] if you want to." They took
me back. That's when I was beginning to understand.
I had some brothers. I had one older brother who was drinking liquor
in Fort Lauderdale. That was not very long ago. He was drinking all kinds
of liquor, and one night he didn't come home. Morning came, and I went
to find out what had happened to him. First I went straight to the liquor
store. It had rained all night long, but I started off that morning. I went
straight to where they bought whiskey-I mean I didn't go all the way: there
were some trees, and under the trees he was lying. He had a little sheet
covering his face. It was raining and raining on him, while he was lying
there on his back. I went over. "That's all," I thought, "his insides are
getting rotten." He couldn't talk, he just looked at me. The whiskey was
sitting there, and I moved it. I was standing watching him. He was looking
at me, he couldn't talk. He was lying down. I came back, and told his
daughter what had happened. Morgan Smith's wife, that's his daughter-
I told her. "Let's go see," she said, and we all went over. The police brought
him back. They brought him back and he lay there not very long, and died.
My sisters were the same way. They were older than me, because I didn't
know it at the time. My brother and I were still growing up when they died.
My sisters, they died and died.
Only kascfilotki:'s father was left. He's my cousin. He got wrecked
with a car just a little ways from here. Three people were in it, and they all
died. They took them out of the water, and there were three of them, lying
beside the road. That's why I don't have any brothers.
They all died except two sisters-but one of them died not very long
ago, and the other also died a short time ago. Only I am left. Only I am
left, that's why I'm here today.
In Brighton there were some people I'd heard about, but I stayed here.
They went to Brighton, and I went with them-I mean, I went after them,
and got over there. They cut the ground for the Indians [marked out the
Brighton reservation],23 and after they finished it, then they all moved to
that place. I went over there and stayed, and then they turned back to come
over here, and I started back again and came over here. The Christian people
around here were going over to Brighton, but I didn't know what they were do-
ing, that's the reason I didn't go [at first]. My thinking was different, I didn't
know what they were doing. I didn't want to join them."4
I got sick. I was drinking and I got sick. They put me in the hospital.
I was lying down and I didn't know anything. I woke up, but my ideas were
bad. I thought people were killing each other right in the house. I lay there
until I felt better. There was a paper lying on my bed, about the size of this
[pointing to an 8" x 11" pad]. It was Christ's picture. I thought someone
was telling me, "This is Christ's picture, you can look at it while you lie
there." One person went in there and handed me that picture and went out. I
thought it was those people in the hospital, but it wasn't. I lay there, and when
the time came that I felt better, "You don't have any sickness," they said.
While I lay there I changed my mind. It wasn't my fault, I thought.
"Somebody thought it and put a picture on my bed too, and that's all.
Drinking liquor. As soon as I get out of this place," I thought, "I'll go
straight to where the Christian people are." That's all. They went over and
brought me back to Brighton. I was lying there [in the hospital] in Sebring,
and they brought me back. I stayed there [at Brighton] for a while, then I
started off and came over here [to Dania], and I joined the Christians.
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT
I thought I was going to sit there in my house without doing any-
thing. They told me to sweep the church. "Work on the church, clean the
inside," they told me. I was working there with Stanley [Smith], and they
built another church,25 but I was still working in the same place, and I'm
working there now, and I stay here now.
It is legitimate to ask how representative these texts are. One is
struck by the lack of material requiring a knowledge of Seminole culture for
understanding, by the large gaps in the chronology of the narrator's life, by
the small amount of anything really personal. In fact, much of what Sam
Huff said deals with his own or other Indians' relations with whites, or with
changes in South Florida in which the Seminole participated only very
One suspects that his choice of topics was determined by what he thought
a white man would be interested in and would understand. I had, after all,
only been working about three weeks among the Seminole, quietly and
largely with one informant, and a young one at that. Sam Huff did not know
then that I was interested in Seminole culture, and if it occurred to him he
must have realized that I knew little about it. When I returned to question
him in 1952, I had been in evidence much longer, it was well known whom
I had talked with and in general what my interests were, and on this occasion
Sam Huff did give me some data which required more knowledge to under-
stand. However, this was in response to direct questions about the history
and membership of his sib. I did not ask him to tell me what he intended
by his earlier narrative, or to expand on his life-history as such, to fill in the
gaps in the chronology, to talk about his family and relatives, or to give any
information which might be used for psychological interpretations.
I do not have any comparable texts from other Seminole, although
I do know something about the normal Seminole life cycle and attitudes.
It is striking to me that Sam Huff did not mention any of the turning points
of his life except for his conversion. I would have expected (on the basis of
my present knowledge) at least a passing reference to his receiving an adult
name, to ceremonial participation, to his marriage, to his children, and per-
haps to his divorce. His attitude towards whites-if it was fairly shown by
his remarks-is markedly lacking in affect. He accepts what has happened,
here and elsewhere, without complaint. Many non-Christian Seminole and
some Christians in a similar context would surely remark more explicitly on
the effects and perhaps the injustices of white pressures.
These reminiscences present little or no new historical detail (except for
the indirect evidence about Apalachicola). It cannot even be said with cer-
tainty that they are a fair sample of the point of view of an element of South
Florida's population which has been little investigated before. Sam Huff
himself might reminisce differently to a Seminole audience, or to an outsider
whom he knew to be well acquainted with and sympathetic to Seminole
history and culture (a status I had not yet reached).
Yet I find these two texts very interesting, and I hope others will also.
As an anthropologist, they interest me as a rare type of document: an
American Indian's nondirected, spontaneous life-history (cf. Kluckhohn,
1945); but they are disappointing in the little information they contain on
Seminole culture or on the personality of the narrator. From the historian's
point of view, these reminiscences are unique for Florida, whether or not they
are representative; again, they are disappointing in the amount of new data
they contain. My own view may be biased, for I cannot help but remember
how poignant the story seemed to me when I first heard it translated, listen-
ing with the interpreter to the cracked voice of the old man droning calmly
on, sometimes dropping so low as to be scarcely audible, and remembering
the sad, unassuming, gently humorous old man seated before the recording
machine, telling in some sense the story of his life for a strange foreigner
and their mutual friend of a new and very different Seminole generation.
Anonymous-1949. Souvenir brochure, dedicatory service, First Seminole Indian Baptist
Church (four miles west of Dania), Dania, Florida, May 29, 1949 ([121 pp., no
place, no publisher. Copy seen in Indian possession).
Burkhardt, Mrs. Henry J.-1952. Starch making: a pioneer Florida industry (Tequesta,
no. 12, pp.47-53, Coral Gables).
Chapin, George M.-1914. Florida, 1513-1913, past, present and future, four hundred
years of wars and peace and industrial development, 2 vols. (S. J. Clarke, Chicago).
Coe, Charles H.-1898. Red patriots: the story of the Seminoles (Editor Publ. Co.,
[Corse, Carita Doggett, ed.?1-n. d. Indian-Seminole glossary (typed MS. in Miami
Cory, Charles B.-1896. Hunting and fishing in Florida, including a key to the water
birds known to occur in the state, 2nd edition (Estes and Lauriat, Boston).
Douglas, Marjory Stoneman-1947. The Everglades: river of grass (Rinehart, N. Y. and
Dovell, J. E.-1952. Florida: historic, dramatic, contemporary, 4 vols. (Lewis Historical
Publ. Co., N. Y.)
Duncan, A. J.-1898. Report of A. J. Duncan, United States Indian Inspector, to the Hon-
orable Secretary of the Interior, in regard to the reservation, of lands for the use of
the Seminole Indians of Florida (pp. cc-ccxxxviii in Report of the Secretary of the
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT 71
Interior, in Annual reports of the Department of the Interior for the fiscal year
ended June 30, 1898, [vol. I], Govt. Printing Office, Washington).
Federal Writers' Project of the W. P. A.-1939. Florida: a guide to the southernmost
state (Oxford Univ. Press, N. Y.)
Florida Everglades Engineering Commission-1914. Florida Everglades. Report of the
Florida Everglades Engineering Commission to the Board of Commissioners of the
Everglades Drainage District and the Trustees of the Internal Improvement Fund
Board. State of Florida. 1913 (63rd Congress, 2d Session, Senate Document 379
[Serial 6547], Washington).
Gearhart, Ernest G., Jr.--1952. South Florida's first industry (Tequesta, no. 12, pp. 55-57,
Glenn, J. L.-1931. Annual report. Fiscal year 1931. Seminoles in Florida. Narrative
section (17 pp., typed MS. Carbon copy in files of Seminole Agency, Dania).
Gonzalez, Thomas A.-1932. The Caloosahatchee: miscellaneous writings concerning the
history of the Caloosahatchee River and the city of Fort Meyers, Florida (Koreshan
Unity Press, Estero).
Greenlee, Robert F.-1952. Aspects of social organization and material culture of the
Seminole of Big Cypress Swamp (Florida Anthropologist, vol. 5, nos. 3-4, pp. 25-31,
Haas, Mary R.-1940a. Ablaut and its function in Muskogee (Language, vol. 16, no. 2,
pp. 141-150, Baltimore).
Haas, Mary R.-1940b. Creek inter-town relations (American Anthropologist, vol. 42,
no. 3, pp. 479-489, Menasha).
Haas, Mary R.-1945. Dialects of the Mushogee language (International Journal of
American Linguistics, vol. 11, no. 2, pp. 69-74, Baltimore).
Heitman, Francis B.-1903. Historical register and dictionary of the United States Army,
from its organization, September 29, 1789, to March 2, 1903, 2 vols. (57th Congress,
2d Session, House Document 446 [Serial 4535-36], Washington).
Henshall, James A.-1884. Camping and cruising in Florida (Robert Clarke, Cincinnati).
Hough, Walter-1932. Seminoles of the Florida swamps (Home Geographic Monthly,
vol. 2, no. 3, pp. 7-12, Worcester).
Internal Improvement Fund-1915. Minutes of the Trustees Internal Improvement
Fund of the state of Florida, voL 10 (T. J. Appleyard, Tallahassee).
Kluckhohn, Clyde-1945. The personal document in anthropological science (pp. 77-173
in Louis Gottschalk, Clyde Kluckhohn, and Robert Angell, The use of personal docu-
ments in history, anthropology and sociology, Social Science Research Council Bul-
letin 53, N. Y.).
Marmon, Kenneth A.-1952. Brief history and special problems among the Seminoles of
Florida (13 pp., mimeographed; Seminole Agency, Dania).
Miami Herald-n.d. [undated newspaper clipping in the collection of Ross Alien and
W. T. Neill, Silver Springs, Floridal.
Nash, Roy-1931. Survey of the Seminole Indians of Florida (71st Congress, 3d Session,
Senate Document 314 [Serial 9347], Washington).
Norton, Charles Ledyard-1891. A handbook of Florida (Longmans, Green, N. Y.).
Rerick, Rowland H.-1902. Memoirs of Florida, 2 vols. (edited by Francis P. Fleming;
Southern Historical Assoc., Atlanta).
[Robertson, Fred L.]-1903. Soldiers of Florida in the Seminole Indian-Civil and
Spanish American Wars (Florida Board of State Institutions, Live Oak).
Small, John Kunkel-1921. Seminole bread-the conti: a history of the genus Zamia in
Florida (Journal of the N. Y. Botanical Garden, vol. 22, no. 259, pp. 121-137, N. Y.).
Spencer, Lucien A.-1917. Census of the Florida Seminole Indians of Miami Agency,
Fla. on June 30, 1917, taken by Lucien A. Spencer, Special Commissioner (MS. in
the files of the Seminole Agency, Dania).
Spencer, Lucien A.-1923. Census of the Seminoles in Florida as of June 30, 1923. Com-
piled by Lucien A. Spencer, Special Commissioner (MS. in the files of the Seminole
Spoehr, Alexander-1941. Camp, clan, and kin among the Cow Creek Seminole of Florida
(Anthropological Series, Field Museum of Natural History, vol. 33, no. 1, pp. 1-27,
Spoehr, Alexander-1944. The Florida Seminole camp ibidd., vol. 33, no. 3, pp. 115-152).
Sprague, John T.-1848. The origin, progress, and conclusion of the Florida war, to which
is appended a record of officers, non-commissioned officers, musicians, and privates
of the U. S. Army, Navy, and Marine Corps, who were killed ini battle or died of
disease. As also the names of officers who were distinguished by brevets, and the
names of others recommended. Together with the orders for collecting the remains
of the dead in Florida, and the ceremony of interment at St. Augustine, East Florida,
on the fourteenth day of August, 1842 (D. Appleton, N. Y.).
Squires, Karl-1925. A map of the eastern portion of Broward county in Florida (scale
1:32,500; Karl Squires, Miami; copy in Map Division, Library of Congress).
Sturtevant, William C.-1953. Chakaika and the "Spanish Indians": documentary sources
compared with Seminole tradition (Tequesta, no. 13, pp. 35-73, Coral Gables).
Sturtevant, William C.-1954. The medicine bundles and busks of the Florida Seminole
(Florida Anthropologist, vol. 7, no. 2, pp. 31-70, Gainesville).
Sturtevant, William C., ed.-1956. R. H. Pratt's report on the Seminole in 1879 (Florida
Anthropologist, vol. 9, no. 1, pp. 1-24, [Gainesville]).
Swanton, John R.-1922. Early history of the Creek Indians and their neighbors (Bureau
of American Ethnology Bulletin 73, Washington).
Swanton, John R.-1928. Social organization and social usages of the Indians of the
Creek confederacy (42nd Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, pp.
Torras, F. J. and J. F. Charlton-1925. Map of eastern portion of Broward county, Florida
(scale 1:31,680; [Torras and Charlton?], Fort Lauderdale; copy in Map Division,
Library of Congress).
U. S. Congress-1911. Everglades of Florida. Acts, reports, and other papers, state and
national, relating to the Everglades of the state of Florida and their reclamation
(62d Congress, 1st Session, Senate Document 89 [Serial 6108], Washington).
Wilson, A. M.-1888. [Letters to Commissioner of Indian Affairs, reporting his activities
as Special Agent among the Seminole in 1887] (50th Congress, 1st Session, Senate
Exec. Document 139 [Serial 2513], pp. 5.10, Washington).
SMy linguistic and ethnographic field work was supported by grants from the Depart-
ment of Anthropology and the Peabody Museum of Yale University, as part of their
Caribbean Anthropological Program aided by funds from the Wenner-Gren Founda-
tion for Anthropological Research, Inc. Part of the subsequent work on the material
collected has been done at the Bureau of American Ethnology, and the present paper
is published with the permission of the Secretary, Smithsonian Institution.
2 For a description of the orthography used here for Mikasuki words, see Sturtevant,
1953:66. I write Creek (the language of the Cow Creek Seminole) in the system
developed by M. R. Haas (see Haas, 1940a:149-150), substituting L for her barred 1.
a The U. S. National Museum and the Bureau of American Ethnology have two photo.
graphs of a ball game at this place, as well as one giving a general view of a camp
at Pine Island. All three were taken by H. A. Ernst of Youngstown, Ohio, and
received by the museum from him in 1897. One of the ball game ones is reproduced
in Sturtevant, 1954:2, while the photograph of a camp is in Hough, 1932:8. Figure
one reproduced here is part of another photograph in the same collection. The
whole photograph is reproduced in Hough, 1932:7.
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT 73
4 A cycad, Zamia sp., common in this region where both Indians and whites manufac-
tured starch from its roots. See, among many other sources, Burkhardt, 1952; Cory,
1896:10-11; Gearhart, 1952; Small, 1921.
SThe following statement from Cory, 1896:16, may represent a changed condition, or the
year mentioned above may have been exceptional: "The Indians visit each other a
great deal. Many of those living on New River go to the Big Cypress every year,
usually to attend the Green Corn Dance and visit their relatives."
U. S. Life-Saving Station No. 4, on the sea beach opposite and about two miles north
of the site of old Fort Lauderdale. In 1879-1882 the keeper was Wash Jenkins, whose
closest white neighbors were at Biscayne Bay and near Lake Worth (Henshall,
1884:150, 152-153). The "station" was also known as the Fort Lauderdale House of
Refuge (Norton, 1891:226).
7West Palm Beach first appears in the U. S. Census volumes in the census of 1900-
Palm Beach is not listed-when it had 564 inhabitants. Fort Lauderdale then had a
population of 91, and Dade county as a whole-which then included the present
Broward, Palm Beach, and Martin counties-had 4,955. In the census of 1880, Dade
county returned 257; in 1890, 861. All these figures exclude Indians, except the
1900 total for the county which includes 109 Seminole. In 1910, West Palm Beach
had grown to 1,743.
Frank Stranahan (1864-1929) moved to Fort Lauderdale in 1893, perhaps as the first
settler, and operated a store there for many years. Most of his early customers were
Indians (Dovell, 1952:v. 3 p. 174; Douglas, 1947:298).
In the census of 1890, precinct three (which included Miami) returned a population
of 364; in 1900, Miami had a population of 1,681. Lemon City is first listed in
the 1910 census, with 1,214 inhabitants, when Miami had 5,471. Mrs. Douglas
(1947:290) puts the spurt in Miami's population at about 1895. Lemon City was
"settled by Key West people long before the railroad" (i.e., before 1896) ibidd.,
ao Before 1893, the railroad on the east coast reached no further than Daytona. At that
time, the mail went via stage coach from Lemon City to Lantana, with a night layover
at Fort Lauderdale, then from Lantana to Juno via boat on Lake Worth, from Juno
to Jupiter on a short railroad, and from Jupiter to Daytona via boat. The railroad
reached the Palm Beaches in 1894 and Miami in 1896 (Dovell, 1952: v. 2 pp. 612,
nDredging of the North New River Canal from Fort Lauderdale began in 1906, and of
the Hillsborough Canal from Deerfield about 1912 (U. S. Congress, 1911:16, facing
p. 120; Florida Everglades Engineering Commission, 1914:7, 11).
12 The dredge on the South New River Canal starting between Dania and Fort Lauder-
dale, began operation in 1906, and the one on the Miami Canal began in 1909 (U. S.
Congress, 1911:16-17, facing p. 120).
as By February, 1913, the North New River Canal had been cut through and excavation
was nearly finished; the Hillsborough Canal was six miles from connecting and about
two-thirds excavated; the South New River Canal was open throughout and about
half excavated; the Miami Canal was within 10 miles of tidewater and dredging was
two-thirds finished (Internal Improvement Fund, 1915:66). Two months later the
dredging of the Miami Canal was completed (Florida Everglades Engineering Com-
mission, 1914:7,11); however, it was never completely excavated (Marjory Stoneman
Douglas, personal communication, Nov. 2, 1956).
i4 The Mikasuki word is aponkhi:L6mi:ki:; literally 'to make good wordss)'
15 Sam Huff pronounced the name kafnahinli:. In 1952 he said: "kafnahinli: raised cattle
in the Big Cypress on Indian land. He was well acquainted with the Indians. Some-
times the Indians killed his cattle for meat, and he knew it but he didn't say anything
to them. The government wanted to make him an army captain. When he was told,
he said, 'If just one Indian gets into the swamps, he can kill a lot of people.' . .
His children are still living today, but I don't know them." Another informant called
him "Captain Hendry," and said that he fought in the last battle with the Seminole,
in the Big Cypress. This was Francis Asbury Hendry (1833-1919), who came to
Florida in 1851. He was a 2nd Lieutenant in the Florida militia during the Third
Seminole War, and later a Confederate cavalry captain. In 1870 he became one of
the earliest settlers of Fort Myers, and for a period owned more cattle than anyone
else in the state. Hendry County was named after him (Rerick, 1902:v.2, pp. 557-
558; Robertson, 1903:19,316; Gonzalez, 1932:28-29,64-65,76). He was for long a
friend and helper of the Seminole (see Sturtevant, 1956:6,17; Douglas, 1947:297-298).
As a member of the Florida Legislature in 1897, he introduced a bill to set aside a
ttact of land for the Indians, which passed the House but failed in the Senate (Coe,
1898:250-251). Although his contacts were closest with the Indians of the Big
Cypress area, in 1881 he took Little Tommie from the Pine Island settlement, with
his prothg6 Little Billie of the Big Cypress, to a state fair at Jacksonville (Henshall,
,a The name was pronounced cisa:pki:; according to Mikasuki patterns of pronunciation
of English words, this can represent only Jesup (or Jessup) among English names
I can think of. Among the officers participating in the Seminole wars (Robertson,
1903; Heitman, 1903), I find only Brig. Gen. Thomas S. Jesup with a possible name.
He commanded the troops in Florida from December 1836, to May, 1838 (Coe, 1898).
In 1952 Sam Huff said: "cisa:pkinakn5:si: ['old cisa:pki:'] was the army captain,
and he and kafnahinli: talked it over. When they talked it over, they made peace."
Another informant recognized the name as that of an army leader who fought the
Seminole in many places. He thought-apparently erroneously-that he had led a
search for Indians in the Miami region.
17 This man, known to my informants only by his English name (pronounced aliki: in
Mikasuki), was a veteran of the Seminole Wars, born in north Florida or the Creek
country, a contemporary of Sam Jones. He lived to a great age-120, according to
one account-and spent his last years in the coontie country west of Miami, attending
husks at Hanson Grove. He is said to have fought against cisa:pki:. His home was
presumably the "Aleck Town" shown (probably wrongly) at the head of Arch Creek
oh a map in Norton, 1891 (p. 20). In December, 1887, A. M. Wilson met "Old
Alleck" at a settlement on the bank of Snake Creek (cf. footnote 21). He described
him as "the oldest looking man I ever met. The old fellow is bent and shriveled with
age (he told me he was one hundred years old, and I incline to believe he is older),
his sight and hearing are both badly impaired. . I made known my business
[efforts to persuade the Indians to take up homesteads, and to find lands available
for the purpose] to old Alleck through my interpreter, who listened very courteously
to all I had to day, and then gave vent to the most derisive and sarcastic laugh I
have ever heard, after which he proceeded with a long harangue, not a word of which
was intelligible to me because of his hoarse guttural style of utterance, but I was
tbld by my Indian friend that he would not accede to any of my propositions.
Seeing it was folly to waste time upon him, I proceeded about 2 miles" to another
settlement (Wilson, 1888:6).
is This story is a curious one. The name 'Peace Treaty,' also applied by other informants
to Coconut Grove, is probably based on a historical incident. But the account as
presented by Sam Huff I have not been able to identify positively with any recorded
occurrence. Certainly Jesup and Hendry were not involved in any military activities
at the same time, and I cannot find any mention of either one having been in the
Miami region during the Seminole Wars. Nor can I locate a description of any
conference with the Indians in this area. Perhaps the talk was a minor one, resulting
from the instructions given Lt. John C. Henry of the Navy in July, 1842, in connec-
tion with the closing of hostilities at the end of the Second Seminole War. His
headquarters were at Indian Key, and he was left with the schooners Wave (129
thns) and Phoenix (95 tons), and instructed to "keep one vessel on either side of
tie Peninsula. . Interpreters will be furnished you for the purpose of com-
municating with the Indians, and you will endeavor, by every means, to open an
intercourse with them, when you will seek to impress upon them, that it is the presi-
dent's wish, that hereafter the red and white man shall live in friendship in Florida,
ahd cultivate together the arts of peace; that he desires to give the red man a portion
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT 75
of the territory to live in forever, and to permit him to trade with the whites after
his own manner, and for any thing he may require, whether it be for provisions, for
powder, or for clothing; that Colonel Worth is empowered to make all these arrange-
ments for them, and awaits their coming to him at Tampa Bay or Cedar Key, to have
a talk with him, and determine together what portion of the territory shall be their
home" (Sprague, 1848:491-492, 351). It is possible that the tradition has confused
Lt. Henry of the Navy with Capt. (earlier Lt.) Hendry of the Army-both names
could be hinli: in Mikasuki. Sam Huff implied that hinli: was in charge of the
boat. The soldiers might then be the marines who garrisoned Fort Dallas on the
Miami River in 1842 (Sprague, 1848:351). The reference to trade could have been
transmuted into a ceremonial exchange of gifts, and Col. Worth at Tampa confused
with the earlier and better known commander, Jesup. Difficulties in interpreting
(mentioned by Sam Huff) and oral transmission of the tradition would account
sufficiently for the garbling. Marjory Stoneman Douglas (personal communication,
Nov. 2, 1956) has pointed out another possibility. The tradition may refer to Lt.
Col. W. S. Harney, who was active against the Seminole in this region during the
Second Seminole War (Sprague, 1848: passim; Sturtevant, 1953:50-54). His name
would probably not be hinli: in Mikasuki, but the similarity in names may have led
to a later confusion with the better known F. A. Hendry. If this is the case, the
"peace treaty" may then refer to Gen. Macomb's "arrangement" of 1839, made at
Fort King with several Seminole, among them Chitto-Tustenuggee whom Harney
brought from the Miami region (Sprague, 1848:228-229; Sturtevant, 1953:44-46).
ie A post office was established at Coconut Grove in 1873 (Douglas, 1947:280). The
town is first mentioned in U. S. Censuses in 1900, when "Precinct 4, Cocoanut Grove,
including part of Miami City" had 949 inhabitants. The same precinct, without a
name, had 105 in 1890. In 1910, with a redistricting of precincts, "Precinct 10,
Cocoanut Grove" had 929 inhabitants.
ao See footnote 4 above. John M. Goggin (personal communication, Nov. 5, 1956) informs
me: "At the mouth of Oleta River, across the inland waterway, is a hammock island
in the marsh. It was a prehistoric Indian site ([Univ. of Fla. archeological site
number] Da 25), but it once had an early modern Seminole or White occupation as
citrus trees are scattered throughout the woods. This could have been the homestead
of Sam Huff's white benefactors."
21 Mikasuki cinthahci:, 'snake river,' described as somewhat north of Miami, is undoubt-
edly Oleta River, which runs into the head of Biscayne Bay north of Arch Creek
and is labelled Snake Creek on maps before about 1924. Sam Huffs family may have
been living at "Aleck Town" (cf. footnote 17).
22 The individual is unidentified, and I cannot vouch for the entire accuracy of the spell-
ing of his daughter's name.
23 This reservation in Glades county for the Cow Creek band was established about 1936
24 Reference is presumably to the small number of Baptist converts made in the 1930's
by Oklahoma Creek missionaries, chiefly Rev. Willie King. In 1931, there were no
Seminole attending church, no church buildings, and no missionaries (Glenn, 1931).
In 1936, a church was opened on the Dania Reservation (Federal Writer's Project,
1939:320), where in 1938 there was reported to be a congregation of twenty, under
Rev. King (George La Mere in Corse, n.d.). In 1943 Rev. Stanley W. Smith, another
Oklahoma Creek, took over the church which at that time had eleven members, all
women. His efforts were crowned with almost immediate success; in 1946, Smith
baptized 97 Indians, and by May, 1949, there were "221 candidates for baptism,"
mostly Mikasuki (Anonymous, 1949; Miami Herald, n.d.).
as The Seminole Baptist church underwent a schism in the fall of 1949. Rev. Sam Tommie
(a Florida Seminole) became the preacher in the church at Dania, while Smith
established a separate "Mekusukey Independent Seminole Indian Mission" adjacent
to the reservation.
RvBY LEACH CARSON has been writing about the Miami scene since she
came here as a reporter in 1916. The study of Florida History at the Univer-
sity of Florida earned for her a Master of Arts degree, her thesis topic being
a study of Governor Bloxham. See Tequesta, XV, 1955, for her "Forty Years
of Miami Beach."
HAROLD W. DORN, a resident of the area since 1910, knows well the
people and activities of which he writes, being a fruit grower and broker,
with an interest in history which he pursues wherever his work or vacation
happens to take him.
FRANK B. SESSA is Director of Libraries for the City of Miami. His
graduate degrees are in history and he was for a time a member of the history
staff at the University of Miami. He has made a special study of Miami in
the booming twenties.
WILLIAM C. STURTEVANT has been studying the Florida Seminole for a
number of years, and his writings have appeared in the Florida Historical
Quarterly, The Florida Anthropologist, and Tequesta (1953). He is currently
working in the Bureau of American Ethnology at the Smithsonian Institution
and hopes to get back to Florida to do some more work with the Seminoles.
HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION OF SOUTHERN FLORIDA
FISCAL YEAR ENDING AUGUST 31. 1956
On hand September 1, 1955
Building Fund--..----- ----------- $11,616.25
Securities -----------------------------__811.20 $12,427.45
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Fixed Assets (Not included at 8/31/55) ---... 898.72 $
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Total contributions---------- ---------- 1,603.17
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On hand August 31, 1956
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Avenue, Coral Gables, in providing fireproof protection for our archives, and of Jack
Callahan, C.P.A., duPont Building, Miami, in auditing our accounts.
ROBERT M. McKEY, Treasurer.
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LIST OF MEMBERS
EXPLANATORY NOTE: The Association provides several classes of membership.
"Sustaining" members who pay five dollars a year make up the basic member-
ship. For those who wish to contribute more for the promotion of the Associa-
tion's work the other classes of membership provide the opportunity, and the
publication of their names in the proper category of membership is a means of
recognition. "Patrons" pay ten dollars a year, "Donors" pay twenty-five dollars
a year, "Contributors" pay fifty dollars a year, "Sponsors" pay one hundred
dollars a year, and "Benefactors" pay two hundred and fifty or more dollars
This printed roster is made up of those persons and institutions that have
paid dues in 1955 or in 1956 before September 15, when this material must gp
to the press. Those joining after this date in 1956 will have their names included
in the 1957 roster. The symbol ** indicates founding member and the symbol *
indicates charter member.
Abercrombie, John S., Miami
Ada Merritt Junior High School, Miami
Adams, Adam G., Coral Gables
Adams, Elliott, Jacksonville
Adams, Lewis M., Miami
Adkins, A. Z., Jr., Gainesville
Albertson Public Library, Orlando
Aldrich, Richard, Coral Gables
Aldridge, Miss Daisy, Miami
Allardt, Mrs. Frederick, Pacific Palisades,
American Museum of Natural History
Anderson, Robert H., Miami
Andrews, Melvin D., Miami
Anthony, Roscoe T., Palm Beach
Archer, Ben, Homestead
Arnold, Glenn H., Atlanta
Arnold, Mrs. Roger Williams, Miami
Avery, George N., Marathon
Ayars, Erling E., South Miami
Bailey, Ernest H., Coral Gables
Bailey, Mrs. Ernest H., Coral Gables
Baker, Therese, Stuart
Barker, Virgil, Miami
Bartow Public Library
Bartz, Edward, Miami
Bassett, Rex, Jr., Ft. Lauderdale
Baum, Dr. Earl L., Naples
Baxter, John M., Miami*
Beal, K., Malcolm, Miami*
Beardsley, Jim E., Clewiston
Beck, Mrs. Alfred J., Ft. Lauderdale*
Beyer, R. C., Miami
Bickel, Karl A., Sarasota*
Bills, Mrs. Jeanne Bellamy, Miami
Bingham, Mrs. Millicent T., Washington
Bishop, Edwin G., Miami*
Black, Mrs. Charles E., Miami*
Black, Dr. Linnie, Miami
Black, W. L., Jr., Miami
Blakey, B. H., Coral Gables
Bliss, H. Bond, Miami*
Blocker, John C., St. Petersburg
Bloomberg, Robert L, Miami
Blouvelt, Mrs. Arthur M., Coral Gables
Bowden, Beryl, Clewiston
Bowen, Crate D., Miami*
Boyd, Mark F., Tallahassee*
Bozeman, R. E., APO New York
Bradfield, E. S., Miami Beach**
Brady, Mrs. H. R., Key Biscayne
Brickell, Miss Maude E., Miami
Briggs, Harold E., Carbondale, Ill.
Brigham, Florence Storrs, Miami
Brook, John, Jr., Coral Gables
Brookfield, Charles M., Miami*
Brooks, Mrs. Dorothy M., Miami
Brooks, J. R., Homestead
Brooks, Marvin J., Miami
Brown University Library
Brown, William J., Miami
Brown, Mrs. William J., Miami
Brunstetter, Roscoe, Coral Gables
Buker, Charles E., Sr., Coral Gables
Bullen, Ripley P., Gainesville
Burghard, Mrs. August, Ft. Lauderdale
Burton, Mrs. Robert A., Miami*
Bush, R. S., Miami
Busse, Raymond J., Miami
Byrd, Mrs. J. Wade, Miami
Caldwell, Thomas P., Coral Gables**
Caldwell, Mrs. Thomas P., Coral Gabler*
Campbell, Park H., South Miami*
Campbell, Mrs. Park H., South Miami*
Campbell, Mrs. Susie C., Miami
Capel, Fred B., Coral Gables
Capron, Louis B.,' West Palm Beach
Carnine, Miss Helen M., Coral Gables
Carson, Mrs. Ruby Leach, Miami*
Cartee, Mrs. Horace L, Coral Gables
Catlow, Mrs. William R., Jr., Westfield,
Chance, Michael, Naples
Chandesh, Leslie, Homestead
Chase, Randall, II, Sanford
Cheetham, Joseph M., Miami
Clarke, Jerry C., Miami
Clarke, Mrs. Mary Helm, Coral Gables*
Close, Kenneth, Miami
Coconut Grove Library
Cole, R. B., Miami
Combs, Walter H., Jr., Miami*
Combs, Mrs. Walter H., Sr., Miami*
Comerford, Miss Nora A., Coral Gables
Connor, Mrs. June, Tampa
Cook, John B., Miami
Cooney, Mrs. Robert E., Miami
Cooper, Mrs. Helen L., Miami
Coral Gables Public Library
Coral Gables Senior High School
Corley, Miss Pauline, Miami**
Corson, Allen, Miami
Coslow, George R., Miami
Covington, James W., Tampa
Cox, Mrs. Jessamine S., Miami
Crane, Francis V., Marathon
Crane, Mrs. Francis V., Marathon
Crow, Lon Worth, Miami*
Crow, Mrs. Lon Worth, Miami*
The Cushman School, Miami*
Dacy, John A., Coral Gables
Dade County: Publicity
Dade County Teachers' Professional Libry
Dalenherg, George R., Miami
Danials, Clyde, Jacksonville
Davis, Mrs. Christine, Miami
Davis, Hugh N., Jr., Miami
DeBoe, Mrs. Mizpah Otto, Coral Gables
Dee, William V., Miami*
Deedmeyer, George J., Miami*
Deen, James L., Miami
deLaMorton, Fred, Tampa
De Nies, Charles F., Hudson, Mich.
Dicker, Mrs. Barbara, Miami
Dismukes, Wm. P., Coral Gables*
Dixon, James A., Miami
Dodd, Miss Dorothy, Tallahassee
Dorn, H. Lewis, South Miami
Dorn, J. K., Jr., Miami
Dorn, Mrs. J. K., Jr., Miami
Dorn, Harold W., South Miami
Dorn, Mrs. Mabel W., South Miami
Dorothy, Mrs. Caroline, Miami*
Downer, Miss Lisa de F., Miami**
Dranga, Mrs. Anna, Miami
Dunaway, Mrs. Carl Ellis, Miami*
DuVal, Mrs. Hugh F., Miami
Dykes, Robert J., Miami
Eason, Mrs. Helga H., Miami
Eckel, Mrs. Frederick L., Ft. Lauderdale
Edwards, Mrs. Howard K., Miami
Elder, S. F., Miami*
Emerson, William C., Rome, N. Y.
England, Mrs. P. H., Coral Gables
Everglades Natural History Association
Fairchild, Mrs. David, Coconut Grove*
Fee, W. I., Ft. Pierce
Feibelman, Herhet U., Miami
Ferrendino, Andrew J., Miami Beach
Ferris, Thomas A., Key Biscayne
Fisher, Mrs. Clyde W., Palm Beach
Fite, Robert H., Miami
Fitzgerald, Joe H., Miami
Florida Geological Survey
Florida Southern College, Lakeland
Florida State Library, Tallahassee
Fontaine, Eugene, Homestead
Forman, Mrs. J. B., Ft. Lauderdale
Fosnot, Mrs. Walter, Miami
Freeland, Mrs. William L., Miami**
Freeling, J. S., Miami
Feeling, Mrs. J. S., Miami
Freeman, Edison S., Miami
Freeman, Mrs. Ethel C., Morristown, N. J.
Freeman, Harley L., Ormond Beach
Frierson, Mrs. William T., Miami*
Frohock, Mrs. Jack, Miami
Frutkoff, Theodore, Coral Gables
Fuller, Walter P., St. Petersburg
Fultz, Herman B., Coral Gables
Fuzzard, Mrs. Jessie M., Miami*
iry Gannaway, Mrs. K. C., Miami
Gardner, Jack R., Miami
Gardner, R. C., Miami*
Gardner, Mrs. R. C., Miami*
Garrigan, Mrs. Jane, Miami
Gates, Harley D., Boca Raton
Gaunt, E. C., Miami
Giblin, Vincent D., Miami
Gibson, Mrs. Walter C., Miami*
Giersch, Mrs. Richard F., Jr., Coral Gables
Gifford, Mrs. John C., Miami*
Gilbert, Bertha K., Hallandale
Gillette, George, Wauchula
Gipson, Mrs. Sally R., Miami
Givens, Robert H., Jr., Miami
Goldweber, S., Miami
Graham, James S., Ft. Lauderdale
Graham, William A., Miami Springs
Greene, Miss Clarissa, Miami
Greene, Mrs. Frances E., Key Largo
Gregor, Henry, Coral Gables
Griffen, F. S., Miami
Griffith, Arthur, Miami
Griggs, Nelson W., Miami Shores
Griggs, Mrs. Nelson W., Miami Shores
Griley, Victor P., Miami
Griswold, Oliver, Miami
Grose, Mrs. Esther N., Miami
Hagan, Thomas W., Miami
Haggard, Mrs. W. A., Miami*
Hall, A. Y., Miami
Hall, Willis E., Coral Gables
Hallstead, P. Frederick, Ft. Lauderdale
Halstead, W. L, Miami
Hamilton, Thomas B., Miami
Hampton, Mrs. John, Sparks, Md.
Hancock, Mrs. J. T., Okeechobee
Haney, J. Rodney, Coral Gables
Hanks, Bryan, Ft. Worth, Texas*
Hanna, A. J., Winter Park*
Harllee, J. William, Miami
Harlow, Mrs. Frank E., Coral Gables
Harlow, Rev. Frank E., Coral Gables
Harris, Robert L., Miami
Hart, Mrs. Reginald, Coral Gables
Harrisson, William, Miami Beach
Hartnett, Fred B., Coral Gables*
Harvard College Library
Harvey, J. H., Miami
Havee, Mrs. Kathryn, Miami
Havee, Justin P., Miami*
Haynsworth, Mrs. Svea, Miami
Heinlein, Mrs. Mary C., Homestead
Hendry, Judge Norman, Miami
Herin, Thomas D., Miami
Herin, William A., Miami
Hess, Mrs. E. L., Miami
Hill, Mrs. A. Judson, Miami
Hills, Lee, Miami
Hillsborough County Historical Commission
Hodsden, Mrs. Harry, Miami
Holcomb, Lyle D., Miami
Holland, John W., Miami*
Holland, Spessard L., Washington*
Hollister, Mrs. Louise C., Miami
Holmdale, Mrs. A. G., Miami
Holmes, Mrs. Jeanne, Coral Gables
Hooker, Roland M., Miami Beach
Hopkins, Dr. Oliver B., Miami
Hortt, M. A., Ft. Lauderdale
Houghton, Mrs. A. S., Miami
Howard, Lee, Miami Beach
Hubbell, Willard, Miami
Hudson, F. M., Miami**
Hughes, Mrs. Fleda V., Miami
Humes, Mrs. Ralph H., Miami*
Huntington Library, San Marino, Cal
Jacksonville Public Library
James, Ernest W., Miami
Jones, Mrs. Edith O., Coral Gables*
Jones, Mrs. L. A., Miami*
Jones, Mrs. Mary, Miami
Jones, Mrs. Mary D., Coral Gables
Joy, Mrs. Barbara E., Miami
Junior Museum of Miami
Kaplan, Dr. Jacob H., Miami Beach*
Kent, Arnold H., Miami
Kent, Selden G., Kendall
Kenyon, Alfred, Ft. Lauderdale
Kernachan, Mrs. Willie V., Miami
Kerr, James B., Ft. Lauderdale*
Key West Art and Historical Society
Kiem, Stanly, Miami
King, C. Harold, Miami
King, Otis S., Miami
Kistler, The C. W. Co., Miami
Knight, Mrs. Howard B., Miami
Knowles, Mrs. J. H., Miami
Kofoed, Jack, Miami
Kohl, Mrs. Lavenia B., Palm Beach
Koltnow, H. Robert, Miami
Krome, Mrs. Wm. J., Homestead*
Lake Worth Public Library
Larson, Mrs. Elizabeth W., Coral Gables
Latimer, Mrs. John LeRoy, Coral Gables
Laxon, Dan D., Hialeah
Leffler, C. D., Miami
Lemon City Library & Improvement
Lewis, Carlotta, Coral Gables
Leyden, Mrs. Charles S., Coral Gables
Lindabury, Mrs. E. Raymond, Miami Beach
Lindsey Hopkins Vocational School
Lindsley, A. R., Miami Beach
Lipp, Morris N., Miami Beach
Littlefield, Miss Helena, Miami
Longshore, Frank, Miami
Lucinian, Joseph H., Miami Beach
Lummus, J. N., Jr., Miami
Lummus, Tom J., Miami
Lyell, Robert O., Miami
Lyell, Mrs. Robert 0., Miami
Lyman, Jack B., Lantana
Lynch, Sylvester J., Homestead*
MacDonald, Miss Barbara, Miami
MacDonald, Miss Betty, Miami
Mahony, John, Miami
Manley, Miss Marion I., Miami
Manly, Charles W., Miami
Manning, Mrs. Wm. S., Jacksonville
Mansfield, William N., Miami Beach
Marchman, Watt P., Fremont, Ohio
Marsh, Fred Dana, Ormond Beach
Martin, John K., Tampa
Mason, Mrs. Joe J., Miami
Mason, Walter Scott, Jr., Miami*
Matteson, Miss Eleanor E., Miami*
May, Philip S., Jacksonville
Mayes, Mrs. C. R., Jr., Pompano Beach
McCaskill, J. M., Miami
McCune, Adrian, Miami Beach
McDonald, Mrs. John M., Miami Beach
McKay, Col. D. B., Tampa
McKee, Arthur, Jr., Plantation Key
McKibben, Dr. William W., Coral Gables
McKim, Mrs. L. H., Montreal, Canada
McNeill, Robert E., Jr., New York
McSwain, Gordon H., Arcadia
Mead, D. Richard, Miami Beach
Meisel, Max, Miami Beach
Memorial Library of the Palm Beaches
Merrick, Miss Ethel F., Coral Gables
Merrick, Mrs. Eunice P., Coral Gables*
Merritt, Robert M., Miami Beach
Merritt, Dr. Webster, Jacksonville
Meyers, Miss Ethel H., Hialeah
Miami Edison Senior Library
Miami Public Library, Main Branch
Miami Senior High School Library
Miami Springs Memorial Public Library
Mikesell, Ernest E., Miami
Miller, Raymond M., Miami*
Mitchell, Harry James, Key West
Monk, James K., Miami
Moore, Dr. Castles W., Ft. Lauderdale
Moore, Mrs. T. V., Miami*
Morris, Miss Zula, Miami*
Moulds, Andrew J., Coral Gables
Moulds, Mrs. Andrew J., Coral Gables
Moylan, E. B., Jr., Miami
Mudd, Richard D., Saginaw, Mich.
Muir, William W., Miami
Muller, Leonard R., Miami*
Munroe, Wirth M., Miami*
Nelson, Mrs. Winifred H., Miami
Newberry Library, Chicago
Newman, Mrs. Anna Pearl, Vero Beach
North Miami High School
Nugent, Patrick B., Swananoa, N. C.*
Nugent, Mrs. Patrick B., Swananoa, N. C.*
Oglesby, R. M., Bartow
O'Leary, Mrs. Evelyn, Miami
Otis, Robert R., Jacksonville
Owre, J. Riis, Miami
Pace, Mrs. Johnson H., Miami*
Pace, Rev. J. H., Jr., Fort Walton Beach
Pancoast,J. Arthur, Uleta*
Pancoast, Lester C., San Diego, CaL
Pardo, Mrs. Ramiro V., Miami
Parker, Alfred B., Miami
Parker, O. B., Homestead
Parsons, Mrs. Frances G., Miami*
Partak, Albert W., Miami
Pearce, Mrs. Dixon, Miami
Peggs, Dr. A. Deans, Nassau, Bahamas
Pemberton, P. G., Miami
Pemberton, Mrs. P. G., Miami
Pendergast, Mrs. Eleanor L., Miami*
Peters, Mrs. Thelma, Miami*
Philbrick, W. L., Miami
Pierce, Miss Ruby Edna, Palm Beach
Platt, T. Beach, Miami
Plowden, Gene, Miami
Prahl, William, Miami
Prevatt, Preston G., Miami
Price, Gaylord L, Miami
Prince, J. W., Naples
Prunty, John W., Miami
Quigley, Ellen N., Miami Beach
Rader, Earle M., Miami
Railey, F. G., Miami*
Railey, Mrs. F. G., Miami*
Rasmussen, Dr. Edwin L., Miami**
Renick, Ralph, Miami
St. Leo Abbey, St. Leo
Reese, Mrs. J. H., Miami
Reynolds, Mrs. H. Jarvis, Coral Gables
Rigsby, Ernest E., Miami
Robbins, Leon A., Boynton Beach
Roberts, R. B., Jr., Miami
Rollins College, Winter Park
Rose, Harvey K., Miami
Rosner, George W., Coral Gables*
Ross, Richard P., Ft. Lauderdale
Ross, Malcolm, Miami
Rowell, Edward P., Miami
Rowley, Mrs. J. R., Coral Gables
Royce, Gardner, Coral Gables
Russell, Edmund L., Pensacola
Saunders, Dr. Lewis M., Miami
Savage, Franchot C., Miami Beach
Sawyer, Clifton A., Norwood, R. I.
Saye, Roland A., Jr., Miami Beach
Schuberth, Andrew F., Jr., Miami
Sessa, Frank B., Miami
Shank, H. W., Coral Gables
Shappee, N. D., Miami
Shaw, George N., Miami
Shaw, Henry Overstreet, Miami
Shaw, Miss Luelle, Miami*
Shepard, L C., Coral Gables
Simpson, Richard H., Monticello
Sisters of St. Joseph, St. Augustine
Slaughter, Dr. Frank G., Jacksonville
Sleight, Frederick W., Orlando
Smith, Angela E., Hialeah
Smith, Avery C., Miami
Smith, Gilbert B., Coral Gables
Snodgrass, Miss Dena,, Jacksonville
Southgate, Howard, Winter Park
Sparks, Mrs. Charles, Miami
Spinks, Mrs. Elizabeth J., Miami*
State Historical Society of Wisconsin
State Library and Archives, Tennessee
State University of Iowa Library
Sterling, Ray T., Miami
Stern, David S., Miami
Stetson University, DeLand
Stevens, Mrs. T. T., Miami
Stevens, Wallace, Ft. Lauderdale
Straight, Dr. Wm. M., Coral Gables
Stranahan, Mrs. Frank, Ft. Lauderdale*
Strickland, Mrs. C. E., Astor
Stripling Insurance Agency, Hialeah
Strong, Clarence B., South Miami*
Sullivan, Mrs. Howard W., Haverhill,
Sullivan, John J., Jr., Miami
Swalm, Mrs. Neal C., Sarasota
Sydow, William, Miami
Talley, Howard J., Miami
Talley, J. H., Miami Shores
Tampa Public Library
Taylor, Paul C., Miami
Taylor, Robert R., Coral Gables*
Tebeau, C. W., Coral Gables*
Tebeau, Mrs. Violet H., Coral Gables
Ten Eick, Mrs. M. Nunez, Tampa*
Tharp, C. D., Coral Cables*
Thomas, Arden H., South Miami
Thompson, Carey R., Miami
Thrift, Charles T., Jr., Lakeland
Toombs, Mrs. Bettie Louise, Miami
Town, Miss Eleanor F., Coral Gables
Trice, H. H., Coral Gables
Trice, Mrs. H. H., Coral Gables
Turner, Vernon W., Homestead
Tussey, Mrs. Ethel W., Miami
Tuten, Mrs. Tommy, Madison, Wis.
Ullman, John, Jr., Ft. Lauderdale
P. K. Yonge Library of Florida History
University of Miami Library
University of Pennsylvania
University of Virginia
Vance, Mrs. Herbert O., Coral Gables*
Verdoorn, Frans, Waltham, Mass.
Vogt, David, Coral Gables
Vosburgh, John R., Miami
Walsh, Mrs. Charles H., Winter Haven
Walters, Walter M., Miami
Warner, Miss Elmina, Miami
Warner, William C., Miami
Warner, Mrs. William C., Miami
Washington, James G., Miami
Watson, Miss Nan, Miami
Weaver, Mrs. Frances B., Ft. Lauderdale
Wellenkamp, Donald J., Miami
Wenner, Henry S., Jr., Miami
Wentworth, T. T., Jr., Pensacola
West, Miss Emily Louise, Miami Beach
West India Reference Library, Kingston,
Wheeler, B. B., Lake Placid, Fla.
White, Mrs. Louise V., Key West
Wight, William S., Coral Gables
Williams, Glenn P., Coral Gables
Williams, H. Franklin, Coral Gables*
Williams, Russell A., Miami
Willing, R. B., Miami
Wilson, Albert B., Miami
Wilson, Miss Emily L., St. Augustine
Wilson, F. Page, Miami
Wilson, Gaines R., Miami*
Wilson, Mrs. Gaines R., Miami
Wilson, Miss Sara M., Coral Gables
Wilson, Miss Virginia, Miami
Wirth, Miss Josephine, Miami*
Withers, Charles E., Coral Gables
Withers, Wayne E., Coral Gables
Wittichen, Mrs. Maurray F., Coral Gables
Wolf, Fred, Sr., Hallandale
Wolfe, Miss Rosalie L., Miami
Wood, Mrs. Agnes Faris, Miami
Woore, A. Meredith, Miami*
Wright, Mrs. Victor A., Miami Shores
Wylie, W. Gill, Jr., Miami
Yonge, Julien C.,Gainesville
Younghans, S. W., Miami
Zenker, Ramond, South Miami
Adams, Wilton L., Coral Gables
Alligood, Mrs. Katherine P., North Miami
Ashe, Mrs. Bowman F., Coral Gables
Baber, Adin, Kansas, Ill.*
Baker, Charles H., Jr., Miami*
Balfe, Alex, Miami
Barge, Dr. Hubert A., Miami
Barkley, Rufus C., Charleston, S. C.
Benson, Clifton D., Coral Gables
Blackburn, Elmer E., Miami
Brickell, Mrs. Charles, Miami**
Burdine, William M., Miami
Bush, Mrs. Franklin C., Coral Gables*
Clark, Mrs. Flournoy B., Coral Gables
Crowninshield, Mrs. Francis B., Boca
Davis, Hal D., Coral Gables
Dickey, Robert F., Coral Gables
Duffy, E. V., Coral Gables
Duley, Jack L., Miami
Emerson, Hugh P., Miami
Fascell, Dante B., Coral Gables
Field, Dr. Henry, Miami
Florence, Robert S., Miami
Florida East Coast Railway Co.
Flynn, Stephen J., Jr., Coral Gables
Gibson, Henry C., Jenkintown, Pa.
Graham, Ernest R., Hialeah
Griffin, L. J., Miami
Grosvenor, Gilbert, Washington
Haider, Mrs. Michael L., Coral Gables
Hancock, E. M., Miami Beach
Harris, Miss Julia Fillmore, Miami*
Hawkins, Roy H., Miami
Herren, Norman A., Everglades
Holmer, Carl, Jr., Miami
Houser, Roosevelt C., Coral Gables
Hughes, Mrs. Helene, Miami
Jamaica Inn, Key Biscayne
Jennings, Mrs. Alvin R., Miami**
Knight, John S., Miami
LaGorce, John O., Washington
Ledbetter, Charles B., Miami
Lindgren, Mrs. M. E., Miami
Lochrie, Robert B., Jr., Ft. Lauderdale
Lummus, J. N., Miami
Lunsford, Dr. E. C., Miami
McVicar, I. D., Miami
Mallory, Philip R., Miami Beach
Mallory, Mrs. Philip R., Miami Beach
Malone, E. B., Miami
Manly, Albert B., Homestead
McCarthy, Don L., Nassau, Bahamas
McKey, Robert M., Miami
McNair, Angus K., South Miami
Mershon, M. L., Miami
Meyer, Baron de Hirsch, Miami Beach
Miami Beach Public Library
Miami Daily News
Mills, Charles A., Miami Beach
Mitchell, James B., Hobe Sound
Modisette, Col. Welton M., Coral Gables
Orr, Alexander, Jr., Miami
Bowers, Bland, Coral Gables*
Christiansen, Edward S., Coral Gables
Cooper, George H., Princeton
Coral Gables Federal Savings and Loan
Dohrman, Howard I., Miami
Dolan, Francis M., Coral Gables
Fuchs Baking Company, South Miami
Gardner, Dick B., Miami
Gearhart, Ernest G., Jr., Miami
Giffin, John S., Miami
Keyes, Kenneth S., Miami*
Leffler, Miss Cornelia, Miami**
Orr, John B., Jr., Miami
Palm Beach Art League
Pedersen, George C., Perrine
Pitt, Gerard, Miami
Rainey, J. S., Miami
Rainey, Mrs. J. S., Miami
Rapp, Dr. Gerard, Miami
Ring, R. Warner, Miami
St. Augustine Historical Society
Scott, Paul R., Miami
Shewmake, Mrs. C. E., Coral Gables
Smith, McGregor, Miami
Sokola, Anton, Miami
Stiles, Wade, Ft. Lauderdale**
Thomas, Irving J., Miami
Thomas, Wayne, Plant City
Thompson, John G., Coral Gables
Thomson, Leonard K., Miami
Usina, Leonard A., Miami Shores
Vanderpool, Fred W., Miami*
Van Orsdel, C. D., Coral Gables
Van Valkenburgh, Morgan, Miami
Vining, E. Clyde, Miami
Watson, W. Cecil, Coral Gables
Werner, Alfred C., Miami
West, William M., Geneseo, Ill.
Whitten, George E., Miami
Winebrenner, Rev. Larry, Macy, Indiana
Wylie, Philip, Miami
Lloyd, J. Harlan, Miami
MacDonald, Duncan, Miami*
Markel Industries, Inc., Miami
Pancoast, Russell T., Miami Beach
Pearse, Mrs. Langdon, Winnetka, III.
Pollard, Marshall S. P., Miami
Preston, J. E., Miami
Ross, Donald, Benton Harbor, Mich.
Shipe, Paul E., Miami
Thord-Gray, General I., Coral Gables
Tom DuPree & Sons, Inc., Miami Beach
Wilson, D. Earl, Miami**
Foremost Dairies, Inc., Miami
Florida Power & Light Co., Miami
Geiger, Mrs. August, Miami Beach*
Gondas Corporation, Miami
Link, Edwin A., Binghamton, N. Y.
Pan American World Airways, Miami
Peninsular Armature Works
University of Miami, Coral Gables
HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION OF SOUTHERN FLORIDA
FOUNDED 1940-INCORPORATED 1941
Ernest G. Gearhart, Jr.
E. M. Hancock
Wayne E. Withers
Justin P. Have
Donald J. Wellenkamp
Miss Virginia Wilson
Robert M. McKey
Mrs. Andrew J. Moulds
Charlton W. Tebeau
Karl A. Bickel
John C. Blocker
West Palm Beach
W. I. Fee
Adam G. Adams
Thomas P. Caldwell
Mrs. Ruby Leach Carson
George H. Cooper
George J. Deedmeyer
H. Lewis Dorn
Hugh P. Emerson
Mrs. William L. Freeland
Thomas W. Hagan
Mrs. James T. Hancock
Charles T. Thrift, Jr.
Norman A. Herren
Mrs. Louise V. White
Kenneth S. Keyes
Wirth M. Munroe
John B. Orr, Jr.
Jay F. W. Pearson
R. B. Roberts
Mrs. Frank Stranahan
Mrs. Herbert O. Vance
W. Cecil Watson
Gaines R. Wilson