The following are Northeast Journal stories with byline of John L. Bailey as contributing writer.
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Some of the stories can be found here and with links found below.

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Contents

Some of my favorites — on a separate page, completely formatted with photos.

New posting: November 2005 Northeast Journal front page story about Bill Priest.
See the July 2007 Northeast Journal front page story A Ride Back in Time.
See the March 2009 Northeast Journal front page story Of Pelicans, Piers & Sailing Ships.
See the July 2009 Northeast Journal front page story Something There Is … .
See the May 2010 Northeast Journal front page story Take a Ride with Duke.
See the September 2010 Northeast Journal front page story Haints, A Woman Scorned and other Ghost Tales.
See the March 2011 Northeast Journal front page story Volunteers = Priceless
See the May 2011 Northeast Journal front page story Fire in the Hole!

These below are mostly unformatted. The link will keep you on this page.

July 2005 story 1

Birds and Their Protectors

In Our Midst

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You see this sight everyday when walking, jogging or driving along Coffee Pot Bayou. This tiny island is mostly a shell mound where mangroves have taken root. Nestled in the friendly branches are nests of at least thirteen different species of waterbirds. The unique island, known as Coffee Pot Bayou Bird Island, is privately owned with a lifetime trust granted to Audubon Society of Florida. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission lists six of its inhabitants as Species of Special Concern. Among the island’s protectors — and the 623 nesting pairs — are members of Audubon of Florida. One of these individuals is Harold F. Albers, D.V.M., a retired veterinarian who established Northeast Veterinary Hospital in 1973. He started his veterinary practice in Iowa, in 1950, and relocated to the St. Petersburg area in 1971. Any discussion with him reveals a lifelong passion for protecting our environment and the many animals that inhabit this planet. Dr. Albers looks at our Bird Island as a microcosm of what is happening to basic life forms. There are only two locations north of the mouth of Tampa Bay where the islands provide a shelter for nesting colonies. One of these is Coffee Pot Bayou Bird Island; the other is along the shipping channel off the Alafia River on the eastern side of Tampa Bay. The Shell Key islands, near Fort DeSoto is another important bird sanctuary in the waters of Tampa Bay. Any discussion about the environment must start with the realization that the food cycle begins with the health of our estuaries, particularly with the mangroves and wetland areas. The lives of marine animals start within the protection of the mangrove roots and the detritus that accumulates estuaries like Coffee Pot Bayou, Cockroach Bay south of the Apollo Beach area, and the upper Tampa Bay region north of Safety Harbor. All of these have numerous inlets where juvenile shrimp and other creatures grow to adulthood. It is this rich soup of sea grasses, shrimp, tiny minnows and other creatures in the Bayou that provides the food for our coastal birds — Brown Pelicans, Double-crested Cormorants, Anhingas, Great Blue Herons, Great Egrets, Reddish Egrets, Tri-Colored Herons, Roseate Spoonbills and several other varieties that come and go, depending on periodic droughts and other local conditions. As of the Audubon census in April 2005, there are 623 nesting pairs on the island, up from 463 the year before. This is an encouraging statistic, according to Dr. Albers. A survey several years ago revealed a sudden drop in the Brown Pelican population. Dr. Albers said that the first suspect was pollution in the waters. Further study revealed that Tampa Bay water has been steadily improving over the past 30 - 40 years. The real culprit was depletion of the primary food source for pelicans: menhaden and mullet, which swim mostly in the top layer of the waters, where pelicans and other shore birds feed. When new regulations were enforced, the fish population returned, followed by the pelicans and other birds dependent on these food sources. Dr. Albers is a recognized expert in bird habitat. He has written countless articles for various publications, such as Smithsonian Magazine about his research. He has served as Chairman of the Community and Wildlife Committee, Feed the Pelican Fund, and has helped fund post-graduate scholarships at the Marine Biology Department at Bayboro campus of University of South Florida. He is doing preliminary research at this time in preparation for a two-week expedition into the polar bear habitat along the arctic circle, north of Russia. Most of the nesting activity at the bayou Bird Island is over for the summer, but birds are still seen at this location. Many of the nesting pairs are in process of helping the chicks fledge (start to fly). Several Brown Pelicans are at this stage now, with at least one nest of days-old chicks. A walk around the island, from the safe (for the birds) vantage point along Brightwaters Boulevard will reveal Brown Pelicans, Great (Snowy) Egrets, Reddish Egrets, Roseate Spoonbills and more — although not all are there at any one time. According to Dave Kandz, publicity coordinator for St. Petersburg Audubon Society, the half-dozen Reddish Egrets are part of only 800 known to exist in Florida. Kandz noted the rules of conduct for those interesting in observing these nesting colonies: STAY OFFSHORE. Enjoy the birds from a distance. An indicator that you are disturbing the birds include changes in normal behavior, such as watching you instead of feeding their young or preening themselves. LEAVE YOUR DOG AT HOME. Dogs, no matter how well-bred, are instinctively recognized as predators, and the birds are very disturbed if dogs or other predators are nearby. CARRY YOUR GARBAGE OUT WHEN YOU LEAVE. Never discard fishing line and other plastic items such as six-pack rings, which entangle and kill birds and other wildlife with alarming regularity. LEARN FROM A DISTANCE. The Coffee Pot Bayou Colony features the fascinating behavior of courtship, nest-building, incubation, feeding and caring for the young. This colony is an especially valuable coastal resource, since most of the other colonies are only accessible by boat. Signs are posted along this sanctuary and others that warn of penalties for disturbing the birds. The intentional harassment of threatened or endangered species in Florida is a second-degree misdemeanor, with a $500 fine and up to 60 days in jail or both. The penalty for wounding or killing threatened or endangered species is a third-degree felony, with up to five years or a $5000 fine or both. During one visit to the island with Dave Kandz, along the Brightwaters viewpoint, a Brown Pelican was observed swimming at the edge of the island. The pelican repeatedly attempted to fly, but was obviously entangled in discarded fishing line. Dave was unable to reach the bird, but contacted other Audubon volunteers who have the skills to capture and free the frightened animal. It is not always an easy task to free such a trapped bird. Sometimes, the rescue of such a victim causes others in the colony to flee, which often means young are knocked out of the nest. If this occurs, the chicks are condemned, because parents will not feed those who are not in the nest. Therefore, the rescue of a trapped bird must sometimes be abandoned, a very difficult decision for the wildlife managers, because that bird will certainly die.
Information was provided from a prolonged interview with Harold F. Albers, who supplied the photographs of the Little Blue Heron, Anhinga, and of himself — and from a morning spent with Dave Kandz. Photograph of the island was taken by John L. Bailey. More information about St. Petersburg Audubon Society can be found at www.stpeteaudubon.org.

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July 2005 story 2

Looking For the Green

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A few years ago, the movie Best in Show parodied well-known dog shows such as Westminster and Crufts, where only the best of the best dogs are shown. There were some truly funny scenes, mostly involving the foibles of the humans in the story. There are many other faithful pets who train regularly for obedience showing at the grass-roots level, where the most coveted color ribbon is green, because this means each exercise has been correctly performed. There is humor at this level, but it more frequently involves the canines rather than the humans. Our very cute Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Gwynedd, is one of these who regularly attends classes at various bay area training clubs. She is six years old, very bright and also very stubborn. She and her handler (my wife Patricia) have earned five different obedience titles and they are currently working on the level called Utility Dog. This is pretty close to Ph.D. for us ordinary two-legged people. When one gets this far in the dog show competitions, there are many examples of the humorous ways one’s dog can fail to qualify on any given day. The Corgi breed comes from 900 years of genetic development in herding sheep and cattle, and these little 20 to 25-pound dogs have a very independent nature, typical with a herding breed like Gwynedd. As a result, one of her particular dislikes is the heeling exercise, which is THE CORE of any level of competition. Corgis, by their very nature, prefer to direct rather than be directed, and to run rather than walk obediently beside the handler. It took numerous shows to get her Open title (CDX, which stands for Companion Dog Excellent), mainly because of errors in heeling. The heeling pattern consists of several walking directions, turning left or right or about turns at the direction of the judge. At the end, the dog should be at the left side of the handler, and promptly sit when the handler stops at the conclusion of the exercise. Gwynedd often lagged behind, sometimes just standing in the ring somewhere, while Patricia completed the pattern by herself. At one show in Tampa, the compassionate judge asked Patricia if Gwynedd was ill because she was so slow in walking, even yawning while she sat, obviously a comment in her canine way about how bored she was. This is reminiscent of another show in Deland, where one of the Corgis completely refused to heel, lying down in the ring in typical Corgi fashion, with all four feet facing the ceiling. The judge asked the handler, “Does it get any worse than this?” “O dear God, yes,” the owner replied, “I have no idea what he’ll do next. “ At this particular show, of the three Corgis entered, Gwynedd (and “Mommy”) proudly came home to Snell Isle with a red second-place ribbon that day in addition to the coveted green one. The dog and handler team must score a minimum of 170 out of 200 points in order to qualify, and must do this at three different shows to earn a title. At another show in St. Petersburg, a friend’s Rottweiler was competing for a Utility title. One of the exercises is to retrieve a specific item by scent. This happy dog headed for the items, sniffing each one, but then nature called. He lifted his leg to leave a large puddle, marking each item as his own! The crowd in attendance was more amused than the dog’s handler, who was heard to remark, “Showing dogs is my hobby? I must be nuts.” Without fail, Gwynedd is a winner in one category in every show where she has competed. A judge in Lakeland said it best: “If being cute counts, she’s a winner, but unfortunately cute doesn’t count, we can only count when the exercises are correct.” The Lady Gwynedd on the Ides, CGC, CD, WWCD, UCD, CDX, has done pretty well while bringing some smiles to many faces, and will add Utility Dog (UD) within a few months. All we need now are those three green ribbons.

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September 2005

A Community Circle of Care

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It was a simpler time in many ways. There were orange groves from one end of Pinellas County to the other. Each fall, like clockwork, the tin can tourists arrived from places like Michigan, Ohio and Indiana and other northern climes, seeking a warm place for the winter. They were called “tin can tourists” because they traveled in a trailer towed behind their Ford Model-A or similar vehicle. The trailer somehow may have resembled a tin can, but they also opened tin cans for most of their meals. Those who lived in Florida looked forward to some relief from the oppressive heat, which was usually the subject of many a block party. Neighbors gathered to greet one another, helping others who were in need of some assistance, when a family member might be in the hospital. Conversations often turned to the latest Norman Rockwell painting on the cover of The Saturday Evening Post. The time during the 1950’s was almost a caricature of Rockwell’s paintings, which tended toward idealistic portrayals of American life. It was a time before wide-spread air-conditioning in Florida and before the weekly ritual of favorite television shows caused people all over America to withdraw into their own homes. People started depending less and less on neighbors for social life and mutual support. Instead of family mealtime together around the dining room or kitchen table, evening became the time to gather the television’s 21-inch black and white screen. The moving image demands one’s full attention, not like radio or music playing in the background. A family conversation is virtually impossible with the image and sound blaring in the living room or the newly built “family room.” A noted observer of American society commented about this phenomenon in the 1960’s, when he said that this generation, born after the early 1940’s, literally “grew up on it’s belly in front of the television set.” This observer, had risen to fame as the most popular newscaster of his time; David Brinkley, who along with an early partner named Chet Huntley, helped revolutionize television journalism with their nightly NBC News Huntley-Brinkley Report. The era became the last of the so-called traditional nuclear family, consisting of Mom and Dad, baby, grandparents and perhaps an aunt, uncle or niece — all living together under one roof. This provided a built-in support system for all. When one became ill or in need of extra attention, some family member was able to lend a hand. That time resurfaced in the Old Northeast last spring, when one family desperately needed some help from their neighbors. Magnus and Christine Sublett moved into their new home in August, 2004, moving here from the Detroit area. Their first choice had been to relocate to the Hyde Park area, one of Tampa’s oldest and still a highly desirable sections of town. Many who live there are from old-Tampa roots, with lovely, well-maintained and historic homes from the early 1900’s — very much like Saint Petersburg’s Old Northeast. Magnus is President of a national real estate company. One of his co-workers suggested that he also look at homes here in Saint Petersburg. The first home they saw is the one on which they immediately made an offer, which was quickly accepted by the seller. Within weeks of moving, a block party honored them and several other newcomers to the neighborhood. They quickly realized they made a wise decision for their new home, when they met neighbors who shared many similar interests. More importantly, they realized that all of their new neighbors were genuinely interested in each other and in each others’ well-being. In January, the family increased by one, when Sarah was born. Then, tragedy struck with a vengeance in April. It was a heart attack, as the average person refers to it — the medical profession prefers to note it as cardiac arrest, a rare medical occurrence for a young person in good health, like Christine. The community rallied. First responders were Sunstar Unit #439 Emergency Medical Technicians and Saint Petersburg Fire Department paramedics from unit 4-B. It was only the quick response by these skilled medical people that saved Christine’s life. The community continued to rally, adding to the community’s circle of care, led by Kyle & Anne Krueger who live across the street from the Subletts. The Kruegers alerted their next door neighbors who alerted their next door neighbors. Help began to arrive for this young family — offers for child care to baby sit for Sarah while Magnus attended to Christine’s need to have him close by her side. He spent house beside her at Bayfront Medical Center while she began to rally. Dinners began to arrive from neighbors along with offers to help watch over the house. Within days, their parents were able to fly into Saint Petersburg for the help that only a family can provide. To bring a plate of food at a time like this may seem to be a simple thing, but this simple act of kindness is just one less thing for a family to have to worry about, when a loved one is in the hospital. Support continued from the neighbors, who sent enough food on many nights to feed the eight and ten people who were now at the Sublett home. One of the neighbors who had been at the block party only months earlier was Sue Brody, president Bayfront Health Systems. She happens to live only a block away. Sue often stopped by Christine’s room during her hospital stay, offering support and encouragement. The dizzying events continued day by day. More food and supplies arrived, frequently brought by an entire family tugging a Radio Flyer wagon full of kids, fried chicken, hot mashed potatoes and tasty green beans, complete with peach cobbler and other goodies. The Subletts received cards and letters of encouragement from people in the neighborhood whom they had never met. The days stretched into two weeks before Christine was able to return home, still weak and needing constant attention. Help continued until she was able to be up, as she gradually regained self-sufficiency. Throughout the entire ordeal, Kyle & Anne Krueger coordinated the help that arrived daily. The assistance that was provided was given by the entire neighborhood, freely and with good will, reflecting a time that has almost disappeared from American life. The support was so overwhelming, that the Subletts lost track of every single family who helped. Notes of gratitude were sent long ago, but not every single person was documented, so there may be some who never received thanks. Christine and Magnus wish to publicly acknowledge and recognize each one who helped.
John L. Bailey grew up during the era described above, that overlaps the 1950’s. His family did not have a television set until he was in high school in Tampa. He fondly remembers a time of living in a multi-generational household in Atlanta as a very young boy. His family is a prime example of splitting away from the old nuclear family, moving to a new city in another state.

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November 2005

Airborne! Celebration of a Knight of the French Legion of Honor

Notes on a great example of one of the greatest generation, my neighbor, Bill Priest

John L. Bailey

Last June 6 this nation and the world marked the 60th Anniversary of D-Day. This month on November 11, we honor this nation’s veterans of all wars. In reflecting about the generation that fought in and survived World War II, a person may start to wonder about perspective — the pivotal moments in our lives. For those who were alive at that time — especially to those who were actually involved in the war — this was one of those pivotal moments.

One who actually was there is my neighbor on Snell Isle, William H. “Bill” Priest, Chevalier, 377th Parachute Field Artillery Battalion of the 101st Airborne Division. He marched off to defend our freedom over sixty years ago, to defend the independence we enjoy today. For this, he along with 100 Americans, received France’s highest and most prestigious military award on June 6, 2004. This group symbolically represented the 150,000 soldiers who landed on Normandy sixty years ago.

What will future generations understand about that conflict? Ask anyone about the “war to end all wars” that took place in 1916-18. All that anyone knows about it today is something in the history books and some occasional faded photographs or scratched movie footage on the History Channel.

For many Americans today, World War II is just words in another book of history. For my children, and perhaps your children, this is all they know about that war. Some of us recall it vividly, although I was only a young child during that time, lived vicariously through loved ones who actually were there.

Another of that greatest generation uttered these words on June 6, 1944, directed toward Bill Priest and the others — the men and women of the Allied Expeditionary Forces:

You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The tide has turned! I have full confidence in your devotion to duty and skill. The free men of the world are marching together to Victory! We will accept nothing less than full Victory! SIGNED: Dwight D. Eisenhower

Bill served in several major World War II conflicts, including the Battle of the Bulge during the winter of 1944, a battle that resulted in 81,000 American casualties. He also participated in Operation Market Garden in Holland, where thousands more were killed and injured.

These are the men who established the “Screaming Eagles” tradition of America’s warriors, shouting “Airborne” as each exited the planes, many of them destined for death on Normandy’s cold sands along the beach on June 6, 1944. The drop zone was in error. They should have been about six miles inland from Omaha Beach, but were released over Utah Beach, near the little village of Ravenoville. As Bill relates the experience today, “I should have died four or five times that night.”

Bill landed literally on top of a German bunker that he thought was a sand dune. When he looked over edge and saw the artillery meant to wipe out the American forces, he realized his predicament. He eventually made it out, although his foxhole buddy Lou Labrack did not. Lou stepped on a German mine shortly before daybreak.

In Bill’s words:
At midnight on D-Day, about 26 men including myself, landed on what we thought was Utah Beach. The darkness was supposed to provide some cover, but the artillery fire made it look like 4th of July in Coney Island, with tracers, flares and gunfire. While parachuting in, I misjudged and landed hard in a sand dune wrenching my ankle. The landing also tangled me up in my gear. Then things got worse; as I looked up I saw someone coming toward me. It took only a few seconds to realize it was a German soldier. I pretended to be dead; I lay very still, breathing shallow. The soldier examined me and believing I was dead, moved on down the beach. I noticed an anti-aircraft gun nearby and used a grenade. It worked, but that wasn’t the most harrowing part. I spent the night wandering, trying to figure out where I was. At daybreak, I headed toward a distant fence. It took me about an hour to get there. Once I scaled the fence, I looked back and almost fainted from what I saw — on the fence were a skull and crossbones, the symbol for a minefield. I had been walking all night through a minefield! I lost six of my friends there. Along the way I reunited with 24 members of my division and set up gun position with six other men. The next day we went back to where I landed and captured 135 German soldiers from a bunker . . . the next jump and battle was in Holland on September 17, 1944, where we were under heavy fire. There were lots of dead and wounded; many were blown to pieces. We were trucked to Bastogne, Belgium, where by December 22, we were completely surrounded by the Germans. It was bitter cold and we were not dressed warmly enough — no overshoes, gloves or overcoats. Food was in short supply and we ran out of ammunition. The Germans asked us to surrender but General McAuliffe said “Nuts” to the German offer. After the weather cleared, the Air Force dropped ammunition, food and doctors. For 31 days, the Division held positions along the Moder River until Patton’s Army broke through.

Bill has told me about some of his experiences, including “playing dead” recounted above. He recently mentioned to me that later in the evening of his landing, while trying to regroup with his fellow soldiers to carry off their mission, he heard a noise in a nearby hedgerow. He used his “clicker” and awaited another “clicker’s” response. Nothing. Then Bill whispered a password and waited the responding password. Again, nothing. Bill then fired a couple of rounds into the bushes when a voice called out:

“Stop! I’m your sergeant!”

Bill recognized the voice and yelled, “Why didn’t you click back or answer with the password?”

His sergeant said he had lost his “clicker” and couldn’t recall the password in all of the confusion.

Last June, when Bill received the Knight of the Legion of Honor, he was escorted to Paris, all expenses paid as a guest of the French people. There were four days of special ceremonies commemorating the 60th anniversary, that included President George W. Bush and French President Jacques Chirac. The Medal was pinned onto Bill’s uniform by France’s minister of defense and veterans affairs, Michele Alliot-Marie. Bill was one of five Floridians chosen for this honor, that included former congressman Sam Gibbons.

The next day, at the age of 82, he actually joined five other of his old comrades in a parachute jump onto Normandy. Bill has letters of congratulations from Governor Jeb Bush and French Ambassador Jean-David Levitte to mark the awards occasion.

Bill is not an ordinary guy. He spent his two years in the Army, just another of these heroes who did their duty, then was discharged and went on about his life in his home town in New York. The only thing is, like thousands of others, his life was changed but he adapted and made the best of it. He had many of the problems of returning veterans after being in the middle of combat. His most stabilizing experience was marriage to his sweetheart, Joan some years after coming home from the war.

After the war, he worked in several jobs, including one as mechanical engineer for the New York City water department for 28 years, before retiring to Saint Petersburg. Through the years, he kept himself physically fit and trim, and started parachute jumping again, mostly from Zephyrhills.

Over the last several years, Bill has made 146 jumps, singly and in formation with others. This enabled him to participate in the Fiftieth reunion of Normandy in 1994. He has kept in contact with many of his buddies from the war, and regularly attends various reunions throughout the U.S. and other countries. He makes sure that those who pass his modest (built in 1952) and well-kept bungalow on Snell Isle know of his patriotism. A large United States flag flies day and night, properly illuminated. On special occasions, he adds the 101st Airborne flag that features the “Screaming Eagle” insignia.

During his 1994 and 2004 excursions, ABC’s Good Morning America and NBC’s Today featured him and others who accompanied him as part of their coverage. He is proud to show film clips from both shows.

On occasion, his enthusiasm erupts in unpredictable and momentous ways. When my wife’s daughter was married a few years ago, Bill and Joan were of course invited to the ceremony and reception. Bill was asked to speak a few words of congratulations for the newlyweds. His gracious and heartfelt words offered health and prosperity and in conclusion, he tried to think of a congratulatory comment, but could only utter the one memorable phrase of the 101st as they jump from the plane - “AIRBORNE!”

This is Bill Priest, Knight of the French Legion of Honor, also honored with the Grimaldi Dynasty Medal from Prince Ranier III of Monaco. In addition Bill has been honored with these citations from the 377th Field Artillery: Presidential Unit Citation (army, Streamer embroidered Normandy) Presidential Unit Citation (army, Streamer embroidered Bastogne) French Croix de Guerre with Palm Netherlands Orange Lanyard Belgian Fourrangere 1940 Cited in the Order of Day of the Belgian Army for action in France and Belgium Belgian Croix de Guerre with Palm Cited in the Order of the day of the Belgian Army for action at Bastogne Bronze Star in three campaigns: France, Holland and Belgium plus Battle of the Bulge.

Today the guns are silent. A great tragedy has ended. A great victory has been won. The skies no long rain death — the seas bear only commerce — men everywhere walk upright in the sunlight. The entire world is quietly at peace. THE WAR’S END: General Douglas MacArthur

In terms of how we measure our history in this country, sixty years is not very long. But the generation that participated in and knows about World War II, this was a life changing event — a pivotal moment. Perhaps these moments were so significant, if only because those people were so young. These men and women can actually say “Yes, it happened that way, it shaped my life this way.”

Do your part to honor these brave people, this “greatest generation” on November 11, 2005. At the very least, fly a flag in honor of our veterans.
Bailey was in grade school during the last days of World War II. He remembers it from hearing radio reports and discussions from his family about events of the time. Four of his immediate family served in the conflict. All returned safely. One vivid memory is of his grandfather sitting in front of a large wooden Philco radio listening to war correspondent H. V. Kaltenborn and Lowell Thomas.

Photos from William H. Priest collection.

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January 2006

Gene Patterson: Graceful Writing as a Southern Journalist

Journalism and Civil Rights

John L. Bailey

In northeast Saint Petersburg, in an interview on a pleasant fall afternoon, Gene Patterson, distinctly recalls growing up in a dusty, dirt-poor town in South Georgia, picking cotton and following mules plowing the fields.

Patterson never forgot that background. He carried its memory as an Army second lieutenant in the German town of Gera Bronn, leading a light-armor platoon in March, 1944. That was part of his seven months of combat experience. He recalled his rural background when he became editor of the Atlanta Constitution for 12 tumultuous years in Atlanta in the 1950’s and ‘60’s before taking the helm of the Saint Petersburg Times in 1971.

It must have been a dizzying ride along the way for this southern gentlemen, Eugene C. Patterson. He lives, retired from the Times now, on Snell Isle. This great-grandson of Confederate war heroes became one of the most convincing advocates of social change and for law and order during most of the 1960’s, when he wrote over 3200 columns as editor of the Constitution.

He was writing during a time of social and political upheaval that was devastating to many of his fellow southerners. His front row seat put him into direct contact with most of the leaders of that time, nationally as well as in the state of Georgia. Among them were leaders like Lyndon B. Johnson and governors of states like Georgia, Alabama and Florida — Ernest Vandiver, Lester Maddox, George Wallace, Leroy Collins and the others of that era. Foremost, perhaps, was one who was not a politician. Ralph McGill, publisher of the Atlanta Constitution, had brought Patterson to that esteemed newspaper in 1956. Together they continued a tradition begun years earlier in the deep South, that of advocating for basic human rights.

They were not the only journalists in the old South who insisted local politicians follow federal desegregation laws that were beginning to evolve. Some southern journalists had been advocating since the early 20th Century, that the old ways of segregation of the races were essentially wrong. Old traditions of the South were beginning to die, particularly concerning racial issues.

McGill and Patterson were a one-two punch in leading the way during that turbulent era, when Martin Luther King, Jr., began his leadership of non-violent resistance in Montgomery, Alabama, before moving his ministry and focus to Atlanta. King, along with many other leaders insisted that “separate but equal” was not good enough any more. He fashioned his philosophy based on Mahatma Ghandi’s concepts of non-violent resistance.

The journalists were distinctly southern liberal, many of them with roots in the rural south. Like Patterson, they were able to connect to their readers as fellow southerners, and had strong core values about the sense of right and wrong. Patterson wrote directly to Georgia readers with convincing and compassionate words.

According to Harold Martin, a biographer of Ralph McGill, Patterson had “become the closest thing to a soul-brother McGill had in the business. He had that quality which Ralph admired above all else — courage, both physical and moral. He could not be bullied or bought and he wrote like an angel.”

Joseph Cumming. a commentator for Newsweek magazine wrote about the transition from McGill to Patterson in 1960: “Patterson, who succeeds him as editor, is just right for the image; a young man, thirty-six, a native Georgian, a liberal on race with compassion for the white agony, a tough, jaunty figure with a do-right jut to his jaw and a tight prose style that shone like a suit of armor.” One example of Gene’s writing is excerpted from his editorial of August 30, 1961, entitled “Why Do Georgians Act Like This?”, on the day that Georgia schools were desegregated and reporters had flocked to Atlanta to cover the event. That column ended:

“Men of wealth and men of labor have raised a common flag of reason. “The people who live in this city of a million, though troubled and divided in their apprehensions, are united in their certainty that what we do must be worthy. No ragtag remnant of little men can speak for Atlanta’s people. “But three quarters of us in Atlanta come from the Georgia hinterland. Our values rest on those hills; our roots are deep in those quiet fields and forests. “And an essential part of this day’s conduct springs from the ancestral spirit of a land that is combative and independent, but is by instinct full of respect for neighbor and regard for the right thing, and strong enough to show it.”

Another particularly moving editorial occurred after the dynamite bombing of a Birmingham church that resulted in the murder of four little girls. He notes that it was written with tears in his eyes. The September 16, 1963 editorial was entitled “A Flower for the Graves.” It was so moving that Patterson was invited by Walter Cronkite himself, to personally read it on the CBS Evening News.

Gene Patterson learned early in life that leadership must envelop humanitarian and democratic goals. He never wrote “down” to his readers. Instead, he was one of them, another in the community who grew up understanding the collective mind of his fellow southerners. Like many of us who grew up in the “old South,” he readily admits to understanding of the prejudices of that time and place. Yet, he, along with many of his fellow journalists, could equally understand when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and his followers cried out about seeking the promised land.

“I have a dream,” King proclaimed and many in the news business joined with him in climbing to the mountaintop. It was up to the responsible journalists of the deep South to gently push for change, nudging their readers along, like a mother dog would gentle push her new pups along the pathway that she knew was right. No black man, regardless of how charismatic or engaging his personality, would have been accepted by most of the old South. Certainly no carpetbagger from the North would hope to succeed. It was the writers from their own southern soil who would have to take on this mantle — writers like Gene Patterson — because he, like many others, was one of their fellow southerners. Patterson hastens to note that the real heroes then were the black leaders — not newspapers — although papers like the Atlanta Constitution, the Arkansas Gazette, Richmond Times-Dispatch, and many others including Saint Petersburg Times, that published the pictures of the events, reported on what was happening and editorialized that segregation was morally wrong. Many of these southern papers were awarded Pulitzer Prizes for printing stories favorable to the civil rights struggle, recognizing the personal dangers that confronted the newspapers and the individuals responsible for those stories.

What brought the changes about eventually were the laws that President Lyndon B. Johnson helped push through congress: the 1964 Public Accommodations Act and the 1965 Voting Rights Act. These drove segregationists to the wall — and the rest of the nation lost patience with the South.

Few politicians at that time would stand up for the law of the land. It was easier to repeat the mantra of “states rights.” Governor LeRoy Collins was one leader who insisted Florida follow the law, just as Governor Ernest Vandiver in Georgia also took the lead in enforcing the law. Other governors, from Arkansas, Louisiana and Alabama, withheld leadership or refused to lead.

Both Collins and Vandiver were eventually defeated in subsequent campaigns and both forced to retire from politics, so strong were the forces that eventually decide on another’s willingness to serve. It is interesting to note, Patterson observes, that these names survive. We forget others who opposed changing times; they are now mere footnotes in history. Patterson offered many a name who supported desegregation in the 1960’s who retired from politics because of their positions on the issue, never to run for office again.

Patterson stated more than once during the interview, that leadership isn’t always about winning a political contest — leadership is knowing within oneself what is right and then doing what is right. After the tragic murder of Martin Luther King in April 1968, Patterson wrote an unsigned editorial, published April 5, 1968, that began with Dr. King’s famous statement,

“‘Free at last, free at last, Lord God Almighty, I am free at last!’ Yes, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is free. The lesson of his life is written large. Let every man of every race search his heart now, as the president asked, and face the enduring truth.” The editorial goes on to grieve about this loss of life, ending with: “It is now that he must depend on the people he loved and died for to honor his life by living its lesson and not forsaking him for the violent men he fought...Let him not have lived in vain.”

Later in 1968, various forces at the Atlanta Constitution prompted Gene to move to other employment, including three years as Managing Editor of the Washington Post and a year as professor of public policy at Duke University. According to his friends, he really needed his own newspaper. Nelson Poynter gave him that opportunity, when Patterson became editor of the Saint Petersburg Times. Poynter owned the Times then, and was looking for a like-minded journalist, to eventually take over control of the newspaper.

His was a unique outlook at that time in the newspaper business, reminiscent of some earlier age in American journalism. Most large city newspapers were more and more being run from corporate boardrooms, with little understanding or comprehension of basic, honest journalism. Poynter wanted the Times to continue under ownership of someone of Gene’s stature, and so began another landmark in Eugene Patterson’s career.

Gene retired from the Times in 1988, but not before he exercised the same criteria when he took over from Nelson Poynter. Today, the Saint Petersburg Times continues with this same course, quite possibly unique among the nation’s newspapers; the uniqueness being independently owned.

The Poynter Institute is essentially the owner of the Saint Petersburg Times. It’s Chief Executive is the editor-publisher of the Times. The Institute is respected as a training resource dedicated to encouraging and teaching serious journalists. It espouses Poynter’s belief in the value of independent journalism. It was established by Nelson Poynter in 1971 and renamed The Poynter Institute by Gene Patterson after Poynter died. This word “independent” is somewhat ironic, because there was a rival newspaper in town for many years, recalled by many “old-timers.” The Saint Petersburg Museum of History honors that paper with an outdoor exhibit of a newsboy hawking that day’s edition of the Saint Petersburg Independent. The publisher of that paper had instituted a novel marketing approach many years ago, in which he vowed to give away papers any day that the sun failed to shine. Legend is that he gave away very few newspapers here in the “Sunshine City.”

Eventually that evening newspaper went to the way of so many evening papers in this country. They failed as television and other interests captured the public’s fascination. Younger readers today may not realize that earlier in the 20th Century, workers went home to the evening newspaper that awaited on the doorstep. Now, with television, cable, talk radio and the internet, the old evening newspaper is mostly a jaded relic. Before the Independent finally faded away, there is a story, related by Gene Patterson, about Nelson Poynter that illustrates Poynter’s fiercely independent journalistic philosophy. The old Webb’s City, was run by another Saint Petersburg legend, “Doc” Webb.

Webb’s City was called “the world’s largest drug store” and sold pink plastic flamingos among other Florida souvenirs and featured live “dancing chickens” along with many other promotional schemes. Doc apparently had a bit of temper from time to time, and was particularly irritated about an editorial in the Independent one day. Webb’s City was a large advertiser, and probably kept the paper alive at that time. Doc said he was canceling all of his advertising until the paper saw things his way.

Nelson Poynter heard about this, and called Doc to tell him he shouldn’t do that; the Independent was already suffering enough — that Doc might just be the final “nail in coffin” if he canceled his advertising. If the paper failed, Saint Petersburg would only have one newspaper. Poynter felt that wouldn’t be good for the community. He felt strongly that the community needed more than one viewpoint. And besides, without the Independent, Doc wouldn’t have anybody to complain to but him. Doc agreed with Poynter that it would be pretty awful. He hurried to reinstate his advertising with the Independent. As time went on however, even Webb’s continued advertising was not enough. The paper was eventually sold to the Times. It fell to Gene Patterson, who was editor-publisher then, to finally cease publication of the Independent in 1981.

In retirement, he continues his vision for dignified coexistence for all citizens. He recalls growing up as a white Georgia farm boy who studied at the racially segregated (at that time) University of Georgia, but who grew %¡up to fight southern segregation as a journalist. The change in the South of the past forty years is enormous, thanks in large part to people like Eugene C. Patterson.

Background for this article stems from an interview with Mr. Patterson on November 22, 2005, and from a book, The Changing South of Gene Patterson, by Roy Peter Clark and Raymond Arsenault. The book features 120 of Patterson’s best editorials in the Atlanta Constitution, that were published from 1960 through 1968. Quotations cited are directly from this book. The photograph is from Eugene Patterson’s private collection, provided by The Poynter Institute.

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March 2006

A Taste of Vaudeville

(This story has mostly not been formatted for the internet)

For your afternoon tea, consider these pleasant additives: a steaming pot of strong tea with plenty of milk and sugar, freshly baked scones and crumpets with clotted cream, finger sandwiches of cucumber and fresh, ripe Ruskin tomatoes. Just for variety, slice some Kielbasa or mortadella very thinly, and perhaps a bit of aged cheddar. Stir in plenty of pleasant conversation with a delightful couple who can regale those assembled with story after story about their days in vaudeville. Vaudeville? Isn’t that a rather coarse corollary for a proper high tea? Well, after all, this is St. Petersburg, so this high tea should take on some local color. The color is provided by Ed and Mary Lou Babor, who met on a stage in St. Louis. Ed and Mary Lou live on Snell Isle now, where they enjoy retirement. ON a cool January afternoon, they reflected on a lifetime of rich memories from those heady days in the Midwest, before moving to St. Petersburg where they operated Babor’s Gourmet Meats for many years. When they first met, Ed was a tap dancer, occasionally appearing at the Fox Theater in St. Louis. He was what show business calls the traditional “song and dance man.” Mary Lou was performing a ballet with her associates. They both worked for the First National Bank, and were part of a variety show being staged by the bank to showcase its employees’ talents. Vaudeville may have started at some saloon in Kansas City — or was it in the Catskills of New York? — perhaps its roots stem from Shakespeare. Or perhaps it grew from the activities of one Phineas T. Barnum, who later joined with James Bailey (no known relation, unfortunately). This association eventually became the Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus, usually called The Greatest Show on Earth. Regardless of the actual beginning of vaudeville, the reason was a basic human need for relaxing and entertainment. The University of Virginia has chronicled the roots of American Vaudeville, and notes that more than any other mass entertainment form, it grew from the culture of a newly developing life in America after the Civil War. After that devastating strife that pitted brother against brother, Americans settled into a sense of early corporate life with a rapidly growing number of white-collar workers with much more leisure time than prior to the war. The country had begun its transition from an agrarian society with it’s nearly round-the-clock lifestyle into an urban middle class. The increase in leisure time with more spending power than ever before opened the door for business-savvy showmen. Changing tastes dictated a better level of professional entertainment. Theater circuits began standardizing into a network of theaters that reached from the large cities into the smaller communities. Variety theater existed before 1860, but not along the same vast network concept that developed in the late nineteenth century. The conversation of afternoon tea time turned to the Babor’s background. He went to actors school, and appeared as “Little Eddie Babor” in numerous shows and revues around St. Louis. He learned tap dancing as a young lad when he was eleven years old. Mary Lou learned classical ballet when she was a young girl. This was all toward the end of vaudeville’s influence and popularity. By the time Ed and Mary Lou Babor were attracted to this unique American form of entertainment, vaudeville was on the decline. Silent movies were all the rage then, to be followed in just a few short years by the “talkies.” It was a smart career move that both Ed and Mary Lou remained employed at the bank in St. Louis. In the early years of the nineteenth century, there were numerous performances available, from Shakespeare, itinerant acrobats, singers, comedians and dancers — all found in the same evening performance. Some of the entertainment in early vaudeville became raucous with risqué and crude presentations, particularly as the western states became settled during the middle and later 1800’s. The increasing sophistication of the urban middle class began demanding a higher level of entertainment that was answered by several entrepreneurs, notably Tony Pastor and Benjamin Franklin Keith. Tony Pastor is acknowledged to be the first to present a commercially successful “clean” variety show circuit. He started as a singer and songwriter and eventually as a manager. The term “manager” was what we refer to today as a producer. Pastor’s aim was to provide entertainment suitable for the entire family. His first successes were at New York’s Fourteenth Street Theater in 1881. It was convenient to public transportation, restaurants, shops. Most importantly, the theater was close to the city’s top theaters. “Respectable” theatergoers did not object to attending performances at Pastors theater. Pastor offered a different show each week, with quality acts. Reserved seats cost fifty cents. His beginnings in the business often resulted in his appearance in the star spotlight. He would sing such sentimental favorites as “The Band Played On” –
...Casey would waltz With the strawberry blonde And the band played on. He’d waltz round the floor With the girl he adored And the band played on...
Pastor’s success with “clean” variety shows influenced others to join in. Benjamin Franklin Keith was one of these who developed a large network of Keith Theaters. Keith and his partner Edward F. Albee used the fortune they had made staging unauthorized productions of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. In 1883, they started building a chain of ornate theaters across the northeastern United States. They appropriated Pastor's format of continuous multiple daily performances. Some historians believe it was Keith and Albee who began referring to their presentations as "vaudeville," a term borrowed perhaps from an Americanization of the French slang term “voix de ville” — or “songs of the town.” Sophie Tucker explains what “clean” came to mean, in her autobiography, Some of These Days. In her book, Tucker explained the rules for clean performances. Keith’s theater managers attended every act’s first performance of the week’s engagement: Between the (Monday) matinee and the night show the blue envelopes began to appear in the performers mailboxes backstage . . . Inside would be a curt order to cut out a line of a song, or piece of business. Sometimes there was a suggestion of something you could substitute for the material the manager ordered out . . . There was no arguing about the orders in the blue envelopes. They were final. You obeyed them or quit. And if you quit, you got a black mark against your name in the head office and you didn't work on the Keith Circuit anymore. During my early years on the Keith Circuit, I took my orders from my blue envelope and – no matter what I said or did backstage (and it was plenty) – when I went on for the Monday night show, I was careful to keep within bounds. — Some of These Days Because of the color of those envelopes, anything risqué became known as “blue” material, another enhancement to our colorful and ever developing common language that we call English. Mary Lou and Ed Babor did not have to encounter such envelopes since their involvement with vaudeville was many years later. The conversation and reminiscences continued, and the tea and scones were soon depleted. After World War II service in the Army Air Force, the Babors moved to St. Petersburg. The sausage at our tea party had its origins in St. Louis. The Babor family have been feinschmeckers in St. Louis since 1880, making and selling sausages and cheeses. Feinschmecker is a German expression that means “gourmet.” Ed and Mary Lou opened a gourmet meat and cheese shop in the Tyrone Shopping Center. The photo from 1958 shows Ed displaying his wares. The advertisement from the Evening Independent describes sausages made from the same recipes his grandfather John Babor originated. The fresh pork along with spices and seasonings were shipped each week from St. Louis to St. Petersburg, where Ed made fresh sausage three times a week. The great names in vaudeville linger on the mind, Sophie Tucker, Eddie Cantor, Jimmy Durante, Milton Berle, Bob Hope, Fred Allen, Buster Keaton, George Burns and Gracie Allen, Jack Benny, The Marx Brothers, W. C. Fields, along with countless others. All of these bring forth a myriad of memories, of song, laughs and relaxation. They all learned showmanship on those pioneering stages. Many of them brought this keen sense of entertaining to that new-fangled wonder called television. Add two more to the list, who had a brief taste of greasepaint and the spotlight — our neighbors, Ed and Mary Lou Babor.
References.
autobiography, “Some of These Days” (Doubleday, Doran – 1945)
http://xroads.virginia.edu/~ma02/easton/vaudeville/vaudeville.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vaudeville
Photos and newspaper advertisement from the Babor private collection

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May 2006

Hollywood in St. Petersburg

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The large spacecraft picked a landing spot near Saint Petersburg. Out jumped Ron Howard, leading a contingent of motion picture technicians. They began to set up locations through out the city. This happened in 1985 when the Sunshine City was chosen for the locale of Cocoon, starring Maureen Stapleton, Jessica Tandy, Don Ameche, Wilford Brimley, Hume Cronyn, Brian Dennehy and many others. Well, it almost happened that way. St. Petersburg WAS the principal location for Cocoon but the movie makers arrived here in conventional aircraft and large semi-trucks full of cameras, lights and specialty items necessary for film-making. The space craft was actually an animated model that proved to be the climax of the story, but it makes a nice fantasy to herald the production company’s arrival here. Today, St. Petersburg counts itself as a stellar attractor of traditional movies, commercials for television and other assorted aspects of the movie industry. One who is at the forefront of this resurgence is Curtis Graham who makes his home on Snell Isle. Curtis gets his talents naturally through his family. Philip Graham, his father, was one of St. Petersburg’s most popular photographers. Many families can boast of treasuring their portraits made by Philip thirty or forty or fifty years ago. Curtis picked up a camera as a very young lad. He has had some sort of camera in his hands ever since. His first professional work was in still photography. Later, he studied at Los Angeles Art Center Film School, and earned a scholarship with the American Film Institute to produce the most award-winning short film of 1990, titled The Blue Man. He has gone on to earn an Emmy and student Oscar, along with other major awards from Kodak. He is part of this generation that “grew up on its belly in front of the television set,” to use the expression made famous by Chet Huntley, of the award-winning NBC-TV evening news program The Huntley-Brinkley report. Huntley was commenting on the generation just coming of age in the late 1950’s, as being the first to have television available from their earliest years. Curtis works mostly on television commercials and short films up to about one hour in length. He is currently completing a documentary about the John Ringling estate in Sarasota that will be broadcast by WEDU, Channel 3 in Tampa, sometime in the summer. It is a story of John Ringling and his life with the Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus. The narrator will be actor Hal Holbrook. Curtis also has a “movie-length” production in the works. He expects to start filming this project after completing the Ringling film. He refers to its working title as “Kennedy Boulevard South,” a reference to the area in Tampa south of Kennedy, that would include the “So-Ho” district, Palma Ceia and Hyde Park. This will be a drama certain to interest those who are familiar with that part of the Tampa Bay area. Curtis will be the “DP” for the project. DP is the movie industry acronym for Director of Photography. The title sounds descriptive as the person who is responsible for the photography (that is, the Cinematography) of a movie. In actuality, the Director of Photography is an overseer, who may operate the camera from time to time, but usually delegates that task to an assistant, usually the First Cameraman — or woman. He also is the person who selects the camera angles, in consultation with the Director of the film. He or she is also responsible for the entire lighting scheme of a movie. Proper lighting for a movie should look like natural lighting: sunlight filtering through branches or the window of a room. The lighting should not “scream” to the viewer, but should be subtle and appear completely natural. This effect is harder to achieve than it may sound. For instance, a simple table will have a 150 or 200-watt bulb instead of the usual 60-watts in most homes, because the sensitivity of film emulsion usually requires more intense lighting than the usual 16 – 32 foot-candles in most homes. The term foot-candle is a standard measurement of light intensity. DP’s use a metering device to determine the intensity of the various lights on a movie set, usually referring to the levels in foot-candles or in f-stops. Movies have been part of Florida’s appeal since the first cameras were developed in the late 18th century. Jacksonville almost became “Hollywood” except for some of the more conservative elements of the city’s population. It seems that residents objected to car chases in the streets, bank robberies that look real, and many other hallmarks of the early movie industry such as fires and weaponry. The mayor who was elected in 1917 ran on the platform of taming the city’s movie industry. The movie-makers simply shrugged it off and moved instead to southern California, sealing the demise of Jacksonville as a major player in the growing film industry. St. Petersburg entered the frenetic movie industry when the Sun Haven Studios were built on Weedon Island in 1933. Three films were produced, Chloe, Playthings of Desire and Hired Wife. Of these three, only Chloe survives in its entirety. The development of Sun Haven was doomed because of the failing economy of the great depression era. After the third movie was produced, the studio was abandoned, about the time the neighboring Grand Central Airport on Weedon was closed. Parts of the building foundations still exist at the Weedon Island Preserve off of San Martin Boulevard NE near Gandy Boulevard. Curtis Graham is determined to influence the movie industry in his native city. He has invested in a grip Truck, an essential tool for larger-budget filmmakers. The term comes from one of the crafts of the industry, that of the Grip. This person (normally a team of several workers) constructs all of the backstage support, and frequently builds any sets needed for the scenery. Grips use “flags,” “barndoors,” “scrims,” “gobos” and set up the light stands need by the DP and his assistants, usually referred to as Gaffers. All of those items mentioned are used to shield the light from the camera lenses or from parts of the set that need shading from the lighting effects. One of the most essential items in a Grip Truck is Gaffer’s tape, a very sticky 2–3-inch wide tape. It is used to hold up or support odd items, tape down wires for safety and for almost any imaginable use where nothing else works. If this sounds like the popular duct tape, the relationship is real. Duct tape evolved from Gaffer’s tape. A Grip Truck is normally rented by the week for a set fee, but expendable items, such as tape, light bulbs, rope and shower curtain is charged per item. Shower curtain? It is one of the tricks of an experienced Director of Photography. Originally, this was literally a shower curtain for the shower in your bathroom, that you can buy at a variety store. It is suspended in front of a Kleigl (this is correctly spelled) light to soften the glare of the intense light. When used to light the face of an actor, the softened light is much more flattering to the facial features, and looks more like natural, filtered sunlight or soft room lighting. Curtis is also planning to build a sound stage, similar to those built about 20 years ago in Orlando at the Universal and Walt Disney studios. When this happens, large scale movie making will be an easier sell for the St.Petersburg-Clearwater Film Commission because a production company can complete most its work here without having to bring in outside resources. Curtis Graham is an up and coming young man who plans to be at the forefront of the developing movie industry in this part of Florida — and he is right in our midst here in northeast St. Petersburg.

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September 2006

Outrigger Canoes in Tampa Bay

There is never a dull moment writing for the Northeast Journal. That is one of the interesting aspects about our neighbors in the Old Northeast area of Saint Petersburg. Think about interesting hobbies — model trains, perhaps or cultivating rare orchids — or a neighbor who was awarded the French Legion of Honor. How about canoe racing? Not lightweight canoes that glide down the Hillsborough River or the Little Manatee River. Let’s talk BIG canoes. Let’s talk OUTRIGGER canoes.

These canoes are forty-seven feet long, with outrigger stability, paddled by six strong men and women. You can see them almost every Saturday morning on the bayside beach waters along Gandy Boulevard north of the Weeden Island area, just before you cross the bridge headed for Tampa. Look over on the right just before the twin WSUN radio towers.

Stand on the sand and watch Claude Arnould and his teammates prepare to launch one of these enormous four hundred pound canoes. Claude and his wife Jeanne live in the Old Northeast and belongs to the Outrigger Outreach Canoe Club. Claude is another one of our amazing neighbors who have such diverse and interesting hobbies or occupations. He is delightfully French through and through, complete with the delicate accent that clearly defines his heritage.

Claude and Jeanne specialize in restoring historic homes. His 1946-era house evokes the grandeur of that time when quality homes were rapidly being built to accommodate the housing boom of post-World War Two. Their current projects extend far beyond the Old Northeast. They are involved in restoring two recently purchased homes in France that date from the early Nineteenth Century. There is an outside chance they may return their to live, but for now are happily ensconced here in Saint Petersburg.

Claude has been actively training and racing outrigger canoes for about four years. He grew up around water and has been physically active in water sports most of his life. He never aspired to racing outriggers, until he and his wife Jeanne were walking their dog along the North Shore beach area. That particular Saturday morning, the intrepid Outrigger Outreach group were launching one of the huge canoes, wrestling it’s bulk over the sea wall and into the waters of Tampa Bay.

His natural inquisitiveness introduced him to a sport that remains a passion today. Now the group launches the canoes from a much friendlier locale along Gandy Boulevard. The group trains for about four hours every Saturday morning.

Watch the crews line up to jump aboard and start paddling. Except for the flat shoreline and familiar landmarks, you might think you’ve suddenly been transported to Hawaii, or the Great Barrier Reef off of Australia, or the mythical island of Bali Ha’i. This is indeed a sport born of the outrigger craft of the south Pacific.

The leader of the club is John Edwards — a champion paddler with national titles. He has been active in this sport for over twenty years. He has spent countless hours buying boats and helping organize events on the west coast of Florida. He shows up every Saturday with four boats ready for hours of intense physical training.

Enthusiasts around the world have increasingly embraced paddling. A successful race requires teamwork, physical stamina and endurance. The group has already been involved with races this year, ranging from Madeira Beach to Islamorada in the Florida Keys. The local group is affiliated with the East Coast Outrigger Canoe Association (ECORA), which holds several events around the state, including Kana Lui Miami Paddlefest in February; the Islamorada Outrigger Challenge in January in the Keys, the Fort de Soto Challenge in April, along with many others.

Upcoming events on the west coast will be October 29 for the Treasure Island Ocean Paddling Series — a four mile and an eight mile combination of races. The Pinellas Challenge is scheduled for November 12 and 13 — a 1 to 2 day race circumnavigating Pinellas and covering 596 miles. The following weekend, November 19 brings the Alafia Challenge.

Claude will tell you very quickly, it’s not easy. It’s fun, satisfying and challenging. But the physical side of it requires some effort — a lot of effort! This is one reason why they gather every Saturday to hone their skills, expand their physical endurance, and practice paddling in unison, with a goal to winning the next race.

The teams don’t just lift a boat off the trailer and put it in the water. The outriggers and outrigger booms have to be attached. The craft are built in a way that you don’t just tighten a wing-nut or two. The floats and booms are lashed together, reminiscent perhaps of the ways the old south Pacific craft were lashed together before being launched into the wild surfs of the Pacific ocean. At least here, off Gandy Beach, the water is normally calm, with waves of less than a foot most of the year.

The first leg usually takes the canoes across to the Hillsborough side of the bay, then back into the South Gandy Channel area leading to Snug Harbor. After a rest, and perhaps a reshuffling of crew, they’re off again, this time heading for the many inlets along Weeden Island area. This is good practice for maneuverability. In a real race, all canoes vie for the same sweet spot along turns, so the crew has be aware of all surroundings, including other boats.

Six paddlers power the typical outrigger, which weighs upwards of four hundred pounds. This makes teamwork essential. The paddler in the bow (Number 1) sets the pace. Normally, Numbers 1, 3 and 5 paddle one side and the Numbers 2 , 4 and 6 paddle on the opposite side of the craft. Usually, the Number 6 paddler is the captain, who also steers from the stern. Steering is with the same paddle as the others in the boat, and requires considerable anticipation because a boat of this length and weight doesn’t exactly “turn on a dime.” Over correction, or not enough correction, can result in a collision with another craft or running aground.

Two or three hours of padding can be pretty exhausting, but there’s still work to do. After practice, the craft are unlashed and stowed again on the specially built trailer, rinsed off with some fresh water before being trucked back into storage for another week.

Outrigger canoe races typically range from a quarter-mile sprint to a 30-mile or sometimes longer open ocean challenge. Teams from Hawaii have long been considered world leaders for outrigger canoe racing, but the sport has been gaining popularity on the mainland United States. While Hawaii may be the Mecca, many teams on the Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico and Pacific sides of the United States are becoming the new hot spots.

Florida has its own colorful history when it comes to canoes. History buffs will recall that the Seminoles in the Florida Everglades burned the heart out of cypress logs to create long canoes that penetrated the multiple waterways in southern Florida. Before them, some historians believe the state's first residents - perhaps the Calusa and early Miccosukees regularly traded with other indigenous peoples in and around the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico, perhaps ranging as far as the early Aztecs in Mexico and Central America, long before Columbus “discovered” this part of the world. These indigenous people could well have paddled a similar type of outrigger canoe!

John Edwards is a world-class paddler in solo events and thrives on being the leader of the local group. He hopes these outriggers spread the spirit of aloha, or goodwill, hence the name Outrigger Outreach. To join with the group, or for more information, call Edwards at (727) 823-8000 or go the website for more information — http://www.outriggeroutreach.com/. The group is always looking for new enthusiasts, whether young or old, and welcomes visitors at every Saturday morning practice along Gandy Boulevard. Check it out — the sight of six people paddling is a scene not seen very often.

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November 2006

Help Create a Happy Child on Christmas Day

As you read this, during the first part of November, you are probably starting to think of Christmas preparations. Of course, you are not alone in this, regardless of whether you celebrate this two-thousand-year old season within the Christian context or as a secular event.

Some people in the community look at this time of year as a sad reminder of their inability to provide Christmas joy for their children. Those who are less fortunate often do not have the extra income to buy toys that are constantly being advertised and displayed in the stores.

One organization that helps these children is the Christmas Toy Shop, located on 16th Street near 5th Avenue North. Sharon Johnson is president of the board. She shared some thoughts recently about the Toy Shop, and how it helps make Christmas morning a little brighter for those children who might otherwise wake up on December 25th with no presents under the tree.

There is a little child hiding inside most parents, perhaps recalling the words of a myriad of songs of the season. There are recent reminders — well, if recent means sometime in the past 40 years, such as these words that begin the classic that first appeared on our television sets in 1965:

Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer,
fun for all that children call their favorite time of year.

and words close to the end:

“That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.” — Linus Van Pelt
You might want to consider some other words from a long-ago favorite operetta by Victor Herbert. These words were penned by his librettist, Glen MacDonough:

Toyland, Toyland,
Little girl and boy land
While you dwell within it
You are ever happy then.
Childhood's Joy land,
Mystic, merry Toyland,
Once you pass its borders
You can never return again.
Although these lyrics are over 100 years old, they are as true today as then. So, when a child is bombarded constantly with the idea of the newest and greatest toys, it’s only natural to assume that he or she should have it also. Of course, this is not always possible or even desirable, but every child should have gifts.

That’s where the Christmas Toy Shop Project comes in. This non-profit, all-volunteer organization operates with the mission “we exist so that no child will be without a Christmas.” The Toy Shop serves children in need for the south Pinellas area of the county.

According to Sharon Johnson, the project served over 1000 families last year. This included more than 3,500 children. Over 800 bicycles were given out as part of the overall distribution in four days last December. The many volunteers serve as a sort of group of “Santa’s elves,” with many of them donating their efforts year-round, refurbishing and sorting the toys so that the frenzy of distribution days in December run smoothly.

The Christmas Toy Shop began over 85 years ago, in 1921. In 1952, it was reorganized with the help of the Community Welfare Council, as an agency to coordinate the efforts of clubs, social agencies and individuals throughout the area who wished to donate toys for the less fortunate.

In 1959, The Christmas Toy Shop, Inc., was chartered by the City of Saint Petersburg. Since then over 3,000 children have received gifts every year at no cost to their families. It is important to note that children do not go to the Christmas Toy Shop to receive these toys. Only parents or guardians may come in, and these may only do so with a referral from a social agency, school counselors, free clinics, etc. If parents are clients of any of these organization, they should contact their case-worker or the Christmas Toy Shop for more information. The children must be under age 12. The Toy Shop is planning to eventually increase the age limit but may not be able to do so this year.

Johnson noted that distribution times for this year are planned only for four days: December 4, December 9, December 15, and December 16, although these could change. Please contact the Christmas Toy Shop for details. See the end of this article for contact information.

Among the volunteering partners are The Saint Petersburg Police Department, Raymond James Optimist Club, Downtown Breakfast Optimist Club, Boy Scouts of America, Girl Scouts of America, Saint Petersburg Woodcrafts Association, students from many of the high schools throughout Saint Petersburg. The Christmas Toy Shop provides an excellent opportunity for students to complete their recommended volunteer hours for various community scholarship programs.

Volunteers are the backbone of any organization such as this. Sharon Johnson credits the many volunteers like Walter Ehrlich have been there for over 15 years. Several of the volunteers specialize in different areas. Some repaint wooden toys, repairing damaged parts. Dolls and other toys are sorted and bagged for the December distribution time. Others work with Chuck Cresap on electronic and battery operated toys.

The bicycle shop volunteers make sure each used bicycle is shiny-bright and perfect for a Christmas Day gift. Volunteers like Dave Owen and Jim Byrnes help insure a smooth-running bicycle department. All bicycles that are given out also include an approved helmet and serial number registration for the police department, to protect from it theft or loss at some point in the future.

Individuals or organizations interested in volunteering may contact the Christmas Toy Shop Monday through Wednesday from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. Call the Christmas Toy Shop, 898-2962, stop at the store at 550 16th Street North, send an e-mail to ToyShopElf@Juno.com or visit the web-site for more information:
http://www.christmastoyshop.org
John L. Bailey is an award-winning video-maker/writer with over 35 years experience. Now, he specializes in using your video and photographs to create DVD or VHS memories of family histories, birthdays, recitals, special events and more. Contact him at 898-2846 or e-mail: jlbwriter@earthlink.net for more information.

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January 2007

The Florida Craftsmen

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In 1952, a small grassroots group of Florida craftsmen banded together as an artists guild to help one another and further their mutual interests creating what was rapidly disappearing — native craft art. Not crafts that just anyone can make; they were and are fine craft arts people, creating hand-wrought objects of beauty. By its very nature, virtually all of the art work is three-dimensional, typically not on a flat canvas or a photographic print. This column normally showcases a particular artist. This is about that organization, now benefiting the Florida arts community for over 50 years. The person presently leading this organization is not an artist, nor a craftsman. He is one who appreciates art — a person with a desire to help insure the success of members of that art community. He is a facilitator in its broadest context. Meet John Roll, president of the board of directors of Florida Craftsman Gallery. John was recently awarded the 2006 Individual Business Volunteer of the Year, presented by the Tampa Bay Business Committee for the Arts. The award itself is a limited edition work, commissioned by TBBCA, and crafted by local artist Rocky Bridges. In a wide-ranging discussion about the state of arts and crafts in Florida, vitality and energy leaps from John Roll like lightning bolts from a Florida thunderstorm. His animation and vision are accented with a rapid staccato of ideals, goals and dreams that are apparent while strolling through the Gallery with him. Over here is a work by a personal friend, John notes — and another one displayed on the same shelf is by a person he met only recently. Both receive equal acclaim and attention, while awaiting a buyer from the dozen or so people seeking a perfect unique gift in the Gallery. Here is where the skilled an artistic vision of potters, weavers, woodworkers, metalsmiths and other craft artists exhibit their creations. One interesting piece was demonstrated by John. It looks like an abstract pottery creation, similar to a ritual clay whistle of pre-Columbian South America. By blowing through one of the pipes, one can actually play tunes, must like tootling on an ocarina. As the name implies, the Gallery serves members throughout the state. The home may be in Saint Petersburg, but is a statewide non-profit service organization for fine crafts that sprang from that pioneering group from 1952. The same centuries-old tradition celebrates a combination of spirit, fine craftsmanship and aesthetics that go into the making — the creation of glassware, ceramics, jewelry, textiles, handmade furniture and other items of beauty and durability. At first, the group was a nebulous — a loose-knit association seeking a lasting existence. They called themselves The Florida Craftsmen and continue with that name today. Now they have a permanent home at The Florida Craftsmen Gallery in downtown Saint Petersburg. John was instrumental in achieving that goal. The building was purchased in 2002. The Gallery is located in a prime spot in downtown Saint Petersburg’s lively arts district on Central Avenue at Fifth Street North. There are on-going traveling exhibits along with the local artists who make up the Florida Craftsmen. Only artists who live in Florida may exhibit at the gallery. But not all are accepted, since the gallery operates on a juried basis. A committee reviews those who apply for exhibit space, and items are then placed on consignment. While it may sound localized, the Florida Craftsmen Gallery is a statewide non-profit service organization whose mission is to broaden the public’s understanding of and appreciation of fine craft art, and to encourage high aesthetic and professional standards among Florida’s craft artists. Florida Craftsmen, Inc., plays a pivotal role in the vitality of crafts in communities throughout Florida. Florida Craftsmen organizes companion exhibits for galleries not only throughout Florida, but in cooperation with other arts organizations all over the country. One thing that helps set Florida Craftsmen Gallery apart from others is the large gift shop, featuring a wide range of affordable and unique works. You will find ceramic dinnerware, scarves that are hand-knit, some from hand-woven fabric. There is a stunning array of woodcraft, from keepsake boxes to cheese boards, game sets, quilts, batiks, hand-blown glassware, metal sculpture, bronze sculpting. All are stunning; most are unique items — there is no other exactly like it. John Roll has been involved with Florida Craftsmen Gallery since 1987, when he was assigned to help the organization by the company he worked for, Florida Power, now Progress Energy. At the time, his responsibilities were to lend technical computer support. He soon saw a need for further involvement, wound up on the board of directors and continues to provide technical and business savvy, as do the rest of the board members. John seeks the active involvement of other business in a tangible or intangible way. Just as Florida Power helped the fledgling group in 1987 with the infusion of computers and technical assistance, other businesses could provide various levels of support, from marketing to operational expertise. For more information contact him or Maria Emilia, Executive Director, at the address or telephone listed below. Florida Craftsmen programs are supported in part by the Florida State Division of Cultural Affairs, in cooperation with the Florida Arts Council. The City of Saint Petersburg, Pinellas County Commission also supports Florida Craftsmen through the Pinellas County Arts Council along with the Arts Council of Hillsborough County. Membership in the Florida Craftsmen is open to all including artists, crafts persons, teachers, students, collectors, institutions, and those who simply enjoy the beauty of handmade objects. Membership benefits include a subscription to the quarterly newsletter, a discount on gallery purchases, invitations to receptions and special events, and much more, especially if you an artist, you have the opportunity for your work to be considered for exhibition and sale in the Florida Craftsmen Gallery. Florida Craftsmen Gallery is located at 501 Central Avenue, Saint Petersburg. You can find more information at their website: http://www.floridacraftsmen.net, or telephone 727-821-7391.

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March 2007

Recalling Coney Island and the Boys of Summer

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Several things coincide with the issue of the Northeast Journal. The first of those things that come to mind are hot dogs and the opening of spring training — that’s baseball lingo for “it’s another season and all you other teams better look out!” Along with baseball goes a handful of weenies, hot dogs, franks, foot-longs — call them what you will. So when my assignment editor asked me to interview Hank Barlas at Coney Island Hot Dogs, she started a train of thought in my mind. Hot dogs. Baseball. You see, hot dogs just naturally go with baseball in the minds of many people — especially mine. She couldn’t have picked a better person. I had never shared my secret passion for hot dogs; perhaps it was just a lucky break. Coney Island has definitely been on my list of favorites for many years, but I learned some interesting side stories in a recent conversation with Hank Barlas and his manager, Jerry Lovely. My love for this seemingly rather plain and ordinary food product stems from a lifelong love affair with hot dogs — whether from Sabretts, Nathans, or the Publix brand franks — or eating out at Mel’s in Tampa, or the long-disappeared Bill’s Hot Dogs on St. Petersburg’s 4th street near 83rd Avenue North. Actually, none of those measure up to Coney Island Hot Dogs. When I was younger, Saturday afternoon was not complete unless it included watching the Game of the Week (baseball of course) with Dizzy Dean trying to sing Wabash Cannonball or noting that Pee Reese "slud" into second. My dad and I made sure we had plenty of hot dogs — at least 3 or 4 hot dogs for each, fixed just so by steaming, then stuffed into a hot bun with plenty of ketchup, mustard, relish & fresh onions. That was like heaven on earth. Some people may wonder from where this delectable concoction derives its appellation. Some have said that the frankfurter was developed in Frankfurt, Germany five years before Columbus set sail for his first journey to the “new world.” Indeed, twenty years ago, in 1987, the city of Frankfurt celebrated the 500th birthday of the luscious hot dog. Frankfurt has other pretenders to the crown. Vienna, Austria, also claims the delectable dog was developed there by a sausage maker (who got his early training in Frankfurt!). He called his creation a “wienerwurst.” Wurst is the German word for sausage. The people in Wien (the German name for Vienna) point out that the term “wiener” proves their city is the birthplace of the hot dog. Most likely, the origin of the hot dog is from around Germany, because of their long expertise and traditions in sausage-making. Any traveler to Germany or Austria will find outstanding “bratwurst und brötchen” (wiener and small bread roll) from myriad street vendors and shops in any city or hamlet. It is absolutely delicious whether served with sauerkraut, spicy mustard or with a side order of Kartoffel (potatoes). None of these compare with the deliciously (almost sinful) pleasure of tearing into a plateful of chili dogs from Coney Island Hot Dogs. Call them hot dogs, red hots, wieners, franks or frankfurters , the best of the best can only be found here at Coney Island. One has to actually be there to understand the experience. It can be described, but you have to be actually seated at the old-fashioned counter or a booth, enjoying these famous chili dogs, chili burgers or milkshakes (made with real ice cream), to fully appreciate what is offered here. What is offered is a true family feel, because the regulars here are just that — like family! Conversation flows frequently between customers and the staff, with Hank or Jerry usually leading the conversation. The topic of the day could be anything, from the state of the Devil Rays, or when I was there, who was likely to win the Super Bowl. There was also a healthy dose of local politics mixed in. Most people consider the term “hot dog” uniquely American, despite it’s European lineage, but we are not the only ones who love hot dogs. In Spain, they are called "perrito caliente," in Italian, the name is "cane caldo," , while in France, the term is "chien chaud," Germans call them "Heisser Hund," and the Dutch simply say "worstjes.” It’s important to recognize this fine point of the language: Wieners and frankfurters don't become hot dogs until someone puts them in a hot dog roll or a bun. German immigrants to America are known to have sold Wurst or wieners or hot dogs, including rolls and sauerkraut along the Bowery in New York City during the 1860s. In 1867, a German Butcher, Charles Feltman, opened the first Coney Island hot dog stand in Brooklyn, New York. Here in St. Petersburg, Coney Island just may be the oldest family restaurant in a town of very good eateries. There are many noteworthy restaurants, some where you dine only on white table cloths, with formally clad waiters tending to your every whim. At Coney Island, Hank Barlas is more likely to serve your dogs with a side dish of sarcasm. And it should be noted, dinner is served on the spotless lunch counter — no table linen here. Coney Island is actually like a relic from the fabled boom times of the 1920’s and it continues to roar like those Roaring ‘20s. The building itself is located at 250 9th Street N. Hank’s father, Pete Barlas, an immigrant from Greece, started the restaurant in a building just to the north. That space is now the parking lot, usually jam-packed over the lunch hour. Coney Island patrons who are regulars love the nostalgia and the traditional lunch counter feel. Pete started the cafe offering a plate lunch, served from a steam table. He also always offered hot dogs, chili & hamburger on the menu. The chili served today is from that same recipe, but “plate lunches” were dropped years ago. The chili dogs and chili burgers, served with mustard, raw onions and the original chili sauce remain the specialty at Coney Island. That same chili, with beans added, is also served in a bowl. Every food item is fresh, prepared daily. Nothing on the menu is from a can that has been simply reheated. Pete’s two sons, Hank and George continued to operate the business as partners after Pete died in 1984 at age 83. Then brother George died over a year ago, after more than 30 years at Coney Island. Hank will tell you that he still misses his brother. He said that with George gone, it was like losing his best friend. Restaurant chores had been equally split. Hank would open and George took over for the later shift. Now, Jerry, a former cook there for over 25 years, takes over for the afternoon. Hank is also proud of the family feel among his staff, who in turn, are equally proud of decades with the business. Typical of this feeling was Danny Murphy, a dishwasher for the Barlas’ for 26 years when he died in 2002. Murphy was the quintessential eccentric. He was widely recognized downtown. His old friends still recall the long bicycle that he rode. “There isn’t much turnover,” Hank reflected, even though the cafe isn’t able to offer a whole lot of advancements or benefits, typical of the restaurant industry. Jerry Lovely added, “We’re just like a small family here.” Indeed it is. And what about those other things mentioned in the first paragraph that came to mind? Uh — I forget now. Does it really matter? Isn’t a new season of baseball and the thoughts of all those delicious hot dogs enough? Indeed it is.

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July 2007

A Ride Back In Time — Maybe a Generation or Two

Summertime. In Florida. A great time to get out and catch a little breeze taking a spin in your motorcar. Ah, what  bygone memories flashed in my mind by a chance encounter … She was gorgeous. That is, the girl was gorgeous She was gorgeous …
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A View From Above

September 2007

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Stand along North Shore Drive where it curves to become Coffeepot Bayou - look to the south across the waters of Tampa Bay to the Pier, and you will frequently see small aircraft taking off or landing, depending on the wind’s direction. One used to see lots more before flight patterns for Albert Whitted Airport changed a couple of years ago. One person who frequently witnesses these flights is Cecily Lyons, one of our neighbors in the Old Northeast. She views these flights with more than an idle glance. In fact, she may be the one who is flying that plane you see. Cecily is a rarity; she is a corporate pilot who at one time also ran a private flying school at Albert Whitted. She still accepts an occasional weekend student. Cecily holds a private pilot license, an instructor’s pilot license, commercial pilot license and has an Airline Transport rating. She has the experience and the license to obtain a pilot’s position with any commercial airline, if she wished. She will also tell you rather quickly that she is happy doing what she does and is not interested in flying one of the large commercial passenger jets. She is one of many female aviators. A Madame Thible took to the skies in 1784, when she went aloft in a hot air balloon in Lyons, France. There were many other aviation firsts by women, such as Bessica Raiche, who built her own airplane in her living room! She flew it on September 16, 1910. The first officially licensed woman pilot was Harriet Quimby who later established an altitude record of 1, 500 feet. Katherine Stinson learned to fly in 1912, and later established an American long-distance record when she flew solo from Chicago to New York City. And of course, there is the legendary Amelia Earhart. Cecily even named one of her daughters for this famous pilot. Most of those planes flying in or out of the Albert Whitted Airport pass directly over the St. Petersburg Museum of History at the foot of the St. Petersburg Pier. It was near this site where a pioneering young pilot, Tony Jannus took off on October 12, 1913, and began the first scheduled commercial flight in the world. He carried mail and Abram C. Pheil, the mayor of St. Petersburg, to Tampa. The following month, Jannus moved to St. Petersburg. Transportation between Tampa and St. Petersburg at that time required a two-hour journey by railroad. You had to board the train in downtown St. Petersburg, travel to Clearwater, then across through Oldsmar and finally into Union Station in downtown Tampa. Jannus began charging five dollars for the twenty-three minute flight in his Benoist XIV flying boat. It was the first time that tickets were sold to the general public for scheduled air travel between one point to another. A replica of that airplane is exhibited now at the Museum of History. That was at a time when most people assumed a “pilot” to be a “man.” It is interesting to note that three years before Jannus’ historic flight, a woman, Blanche Stuart Scott, became the first female pilot with the Glenn Curtiss Air Shows. Curtiss is the same Curtiss who helped start the Curtiss-Wright Aviation Company, one of the first commercial builders of aircraft. Curtiss called Blanche Scott “America's first aviatrix” on Sept. 6, 1910. Although acclaimed as a pilot, she never obtained a pilot's license. There were over one hundred American women licensed to fly by 1929. While Cecily Lyons may not be the first woman pilot in the Old Northeast area, she is most certainly a notable pilot. She flies for Harvard Jolley Clees and Toppe Architects about three days a week, ferrying company executives to meetings all across the state. She is a unique and privileged individual known as a Corporate Pilot. She works a full-time schedule, just like most of the rest of us. No, she doesn’t “fly” forty hours a week, but she is on the job forty hours each week. She has to plan the next flight, make arrangements for airplane service at the next stop, maintain flight records — doing little jobs that seem non-glamorous, but are necessary parts of the entire process of flying. Sometimes she is in the office. At other times she is at the hanger, located at Clearwater-St. Petersburg Airport. Then when it’s time to guide the seven-passenger twin-engine turbo-prop Navajo Chieftain into the sky, she is able to enjoy every minute. Not every woman has enjoyed flying time. In 1942, Cornelia Fort was one of the original groups of twenty five women who formed the WAFS, the Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron, to help augment the war effort. She had been a flight instructor teaching a student in Honolulu on December 7, 1941. She described what unfolded as she was flying that fateful day. This is quoted courtesy of the Museum of Women Pilots: “Coming in just before the last landing, I looked casually around and saw a military plane coming directly toward me. I jerked the controls away from my student and jammed the throttle wide open to pull above the oncoming plane. He passed so close under us that our celluloid windows rattled violently, and I looked down to see what kind of plane it was. “The painted red balls on the tops of the wings shone brightly in the sun. I looked again with complete and utter disbelief. Honolulu was familiar with the emblem of the Rising Sun on passenger ships but not on airplanes. “I looked quickly at Pearl Harbor, and my spine tingled when I saw billowing black smoke. Still, I thought hollowly it might be some kind of coincidence or maneuvers, it might be, it must be. For surely, dear God... “Then I looked way up and saw the formations of silver bombers riding in. Something detached itself from an airplane and down, down and even with knowledge pounding in my mind, my heart turned convulsively when the bomb exploded in the middle of the harbor. I knew the air was not the place for my little baby airplane, and I set about landing as quickly as ever I could. A few seconds later a shadow passed over me and simultaneously bullets all around me. “Suddenly that little wedge of sky above Hickam Field and Pearl Harbor was the busiest, fullest piece of sky I ever saw. We counted anxiously as our little civilian planes came flying home to roost. Two never came back.” Summertime is probably the most enjoyable time to fly in Florida. Those who live on the west coast realize that most summer mornings begin with beautiful blue skies. A handful of fleecy white clouds may dot the horizon. Take off at about nine in the morning and you’re floating alongside those clouds here and there, with the Gulf of Mexico about five thousand feet below, a gorgeous azure-green mix of colors. When you fly amongst the white cloud tops, it’s not too far-fetched to imagine you could reach out and touch what resembles fluffy balls of cotton candy in a deep blue sky. Those are sights that greet Cecily nearly every time the wheels part company with the ground. She recalls one particularly memorable occasion recently while returning from a south Florida meeting. She and her three passengers were flying along the Gulf coast, a typical route returning from the Miami area. At any time of year, the pilot of a plane of this size is wise to avoid flying through clouds, especially the dark gray clouds of Florida thunderstorms. It would be unthinkable to deliberately fly into such violent weather, so the most efficient route is along the coast when storms are forming over land. Down below were the white sands of the world-renown beaches. Off to her left were deep blue skies that eventually met the aqua-marine colors of the Gulf. To the right were towering thunderclouds, typical of a late summer day in the sub-tropical Florida skies. Cecily marveled about the beauty of these contrasts, the tranquil-appearing Gulf to one side. On the other side were the towering clouds beginning to discharge lightning strikes and heavy rain over DeSoto, Charlotte and Sarasota counties. She remarked about the how particularly awe inspiring all of this was as they flew along, expecting to hear words of agreement from those in the seats behind her. No response. She turned to look at her passengers, wondering if they were all right. Then she realized all three were asleep, oblivious to the wonders of all of this raw nature unfolding round about them. She shares this love of the skies with others. Her daughters, now grown, are among her former students. Both literally flew with her in an improvised baby carrier when they were quite young. She recalls standing on the ground by the runway watching her oldest daughter, named Amelia, take off on her first solo flight. It was a perfect flight. For Amelia’s second solo flight, Cecily was flying nearby in another plane watching as she took off. Then the radio came to life. “Mom, are you there? My airspeed indicator isn’t working!” Only a mother — or any parent — can appreciate the thoughts that raced through Cecily’s mind. She gathered her thoughts and spoke into the microphone, struggling to sound nonchalant and calm: “Well, that’s OK. Just fly like you normally do and come back and land.” Amelia circled around, then made a beautiful landing. Cecily never tires of the magnificent panoramas all about her while in the air or in sharing her passion for flying. This is her world, five to ten thousand feet above the rest of us. If fact, she eagerly looks forward to the next flight and the wonders that await her when that happens. She knows that it, too, will be filled with majestic vistas. She knows she is privileged to be a part of the ever unfolding views from above. Some of the background for this story was found at website of the 99’s Museum of Women Pilots. http://www.museumofwomenpilots.com/ 99s Museum of Women Pilots 4300 Amelia Earhart Road Oklahoma City, OK 73159

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Haunts — Cotton Candy — Christmas Lights — and Block Parties

November 2007

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Once upon a time — and I hope this isn’t too much of a fairy tale — there were people in this town who really cared about their neighbors. They looked out for one another and were truly friends with those who lived nearby. That spirit is alive and well today on 17th Avenue N. E., right in the heart of the Old Northeast. I hope you will permit some personal recollections. When I grew up in the Sunset Park area of the mid-fifties in Tampa, our neighborhood was like what is described above. Our next door neighbors were constantly visiting each other; a younger family across the street were always anxious to baby-sit for my younger sisters. Later when my two sisters were older, they returned the favor by baby-sitting for those neighbors newborns. It seemed as though Friday night cookouts happened every week at someone’s home, ours being a favorite hangout. That’s probably because we had a brand-new concrete block barbecue grill in the backyard. The grill was a gift, built by my dad’s office staff. It was here that my dad cooked many a delicious hamburger and hotdogs, and occasionally fried fish in a huge skillet, but mostly I remember the mouthwatering pork loin dripping with his own version of southern barbecue sauce for every holiday. As this story goes to press, a neighborhood party was held on October 31 that closed two blocks of 17th Avenue on Hallowe’en. This annual block party and other similar events has attracted well over a thousand children and visitors for the past several years. How many years? No one at a recent meeting planning this year’s fun, knew for sure. I asked Chip if he knew the beginnings. He and his wife, Ginger Jones moved into their home in 1978. All Chip could recall is that the block parties were well established then and both have been heavily involved in keeping the spirit alive. Cost of admission for the parties is a couple of canned goods that are donated the Free Clinic. Chip proudly wore his neighborhood necktie. The tie is a tradition there, also. The necktie stays with the house, if a family happens to move elsewhere. It is to be ceremoniously passed on to the home’s new owner. Ginger enjoys the Hallowe’en activities, but puts most of her effort into the weeks leading up to Christmas. She established a “Ladies’ Brunch” years ago. It would rival anything you see in the pages of Southern Living. During Yuletide, their large home is bursting with Christmas Trees in every room — each with unique decorations for the room and the theme that they choose for each. On the night in early October when we were there to meet the “Gang,” a gorgeous Harvest Tree, complete with lights and pumpkins for decor occupied the foyer. “I love decorating trees, what can I say,” she exclaims, “and throwing a large party.” When you think about it, block parties have long been part of our culture. Probably as long as there have been homes in a “block” along streets and avenues. It’s part of being the social animal that defines us humans. A determined anthropologist could perhaps trace them to prehistoric man, surrounded by fellow cave dwellers, enjoying a deer or goat roasting on a spit. Doug Gates is proud of his large Hallowe’en displays that draws both neighborhood children and those from around the entire Old Northeast for over fifteen years. He has photographs spanning most of those years. Eventually the effort put into creating a different design each year led to one basic plan that changes very little, but has remained very popular. In keeping with the macabre nature that has crept into the popular culture for Hallowe’en, Doug first built an “electric chair” and later added a fake “guillotine,” complete with stage blood smeared about the “blade.” This has become his most popular attraction, with kids lined up by the dozens to have their head “chopped off,” as friends make photographs for posterity. After this experience in torture, the kids head for the corner of the block to line up for authentic cotton candy, courtesy of Barbara & Greg Creamer. Greg is every bit as animated as Mike or Chip in talking about their contribution to the block party. A few years ago, they bought a professional cotton candy machine, just for these occasions. For Hallowe’en a year ago, they gave out over 1800 sweet webs of sugar just like you’d find at the circus or carnival. Greg notes that it may sound easy, but the task is very physical, involving a LOT of upper body movement. Now he and Barbara have other neighbors who regularly serve as assistants, using traditional paper cones to swirl the sugar around in the spinning aluminum drum, as costumed hobgoblins eagerly await their turn. The evening usually starts with kids trying to find their “tombstones” one of the yards. Several families spend weeks making rhymes with children’s names, then spend all afternoon of the 31st setting up the cardboard “tombstones.” Later, as fall gives way to our normally mild Florida winter, Christmas activities take over. Mike Meidel or someone else brings out a large screen TV for “Gator” parties, especially popular when the University of Florida Gators are playing a high-profile game, such as for the national championship last season. If you don’t happen to be a gator fan, then come anyhow to enjoy being with the neighbors. Closer to Christmas, someone will don his Santa Claus suit for another party, with children lined up to be with Santa, and then Christmas Eve will bring out the luminaries. The City of Saint Petersburg is well aware of this “17th Avenue Gang” as they are known around City Hall. A call to the department that allows a street to be closed for block parties is met with “Hi Chip,” or “When do you need the street blocked, Mike?” They are that well known downtown. The neighbors all live on public roadways, so in order to have a street closed a permit is required, which the city is very likely to provide, especially for the morale-building and community-centered activities like the Hallowe’en and Christmas parties. Since the “Gang” has been doing this for so long, their reputation is well known at city hall. It would not be surprising that some of the city hall staffers stop by to participate in fun. Today, too many of us take refuge inside our securely locked homes, content to enjoy air-conditioned comfort regardless of what is happening outdoors. On a very practical note, the camaraderie and the closeness of the neighbors brings a very high value to the community. They not only enjoy each other’s company, they look out for one another. The children know where they can turn to a friendly neighbor in an emergency. This sort of concerned community helps to create a sense of well-being and safety for everyone in the neighborhood. From a purely social standpoint, it’s refreshing to see this sort of bonding. Our lives seem to be caught up in a swirl of rushing to jobs, to school, racing off to daycare, then scurrying to soccer practice or little league. And don’t forget those weekend errands, that you didn’t have time for during the week. So the block parties on 17th Avenue N. E., are a wonderful way for these neighbors to bond and share their interests, values, discuss varied backgrounds and histories — just hang out and have some fun and relaxation together. What greater gift can be passed along to these children? These will be the times that perhaps some impressionable child will reflect upon some day to maybe start a recollection with . . . “When I grew in St. Petersburg in the Old Northeast, I recall getting together with the neighbors . . .”

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January 2008

Bob Lee

Murals and Longevity

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Family-owned businesses are a long-time American tradition. That’s about all there were for many years in America. Even so, how many made their business last for sixty years? Today, while it’s not the norm, there are many who have been in business that long, some of them quite large and very successful. Wal-Mart in Arkansas and Ford Motor Company in Detroit come to mind, along with many others. But, most businesses in the United States are small, as compared to those. One small family business that did endure in St. Petersburg is alive and well and continues to flourish on Fourth Street North. This is Bob Lee’s Tire Company. This business once was identified by a large fish mural on one of their buildings on 17th Avenue. That ten-year-old mural had to be replaced a few years ago because the paint was peeling so badly. The painting that replaced the old fish has resulted in a lot of consternation and conversation by those who regularly drive this section of Fourth Street, enroute to destinations throughout the Old Northeast and elsewhere to the north of the downtown area. It’s the latest enhancement that caused no little stir along that section of Fourth Street. It the area that has come to be referred to in recent years as Restaurant Row, due to several such establishments that have sprung up near and south of Sunken Gardens since the city took over that historic tourist attraction a few years back. The new painting is designed to offer an alternative to bare concrete that otherwise might been coated with some awful gray or pale green color. This is the building north of Bob Lee’s Tire Center. It is the former warehouse for Bob Lee’s, and has had a rendition of a fictional restaurant called “BLT Grille” emblazoned along the walls of that building that faces Fourth Street. It is the story of the fish and the current painting that was the center of much conversation recently with Todd Murrian, Bob Lee III, Bob Lee IV, and a longtime employee, Dotty Stewart. We were reminiscing about the longevity of their business. Bob Lee’s Tire Company has been at this one location since 1947, started by a man named Bob Lee. At that time, Fourth Street north was a brick street, along a sleepy section of a sleepy southern town. The trolley ran right down the center lane of the street. This was the main route into town if you were coming from Tampa along the historic route of U.S. 92 that brought you across the two-lane Gandy Bridge. It still does, except Gandy has been enlarged a couple of times, and Fourth Street is the now familiar four-lane thoroughfare. Bob Sr. had a vision that this would be an up and coming community, providing jobs and a pleasantly beautiful place to live. He was correct — right beyond his wildest dreams. Bob often said "I just like to work — and I learned to work hard when I was growing up." He also knew how to relax, spending much of his energy as Commodore of the St. Petersburg Yacht Club for many years. In 1970, Bob Lee III joined the business. In 1984, Bob Sr. passed away when he was only 65, leaving the family and many in the community saddened. In 1990, Bob Jr.’s stepson, Todd Murrian began working full-time, bring computer and automation expertise. In 2007, Bob Lee IV joined the business, creating the latest generation of “Bob Lee’s.” The family that continues to run the company has been selling tires, gasoline, oil, and otherwise keeping automobiles running for sixty years. They have been suppliers to and fixers of cars, trucks and various other vehicles for many of the famous names of St. Petersburg, and as such have become rather much a fixture here. Much of their success has been due to “old fashioned ways” of serving their customers. When you stop by for a fillup, you’re likely to rub shoulders with some of the descendants of those famous names or other movers and shakers of this community. One of those is Byron Shouppe, who owned Gulf Coast Bus Lines across the street from Bob Lee, and used Bob’s property to park his busses at one time in the 1950’s. Byron also owned Yellow Cab, Southern Transportation and a limousine company. Today Byron’s grandson Gary, works with the Lees at their wholesale supply business off of 22nd Avenue near where it crosses the CSX railroad line. The Lees cultivated and maintained their customers in an old-fashioned way that may seem strange to today’s business environment. Customers over the years have been a veritable Who’s Who of St. Petersburg. These include the Starkey’s who still owned a large cattle ranch near Largo, the Rutland’s of banking and retailing in downtown St. Petersburg, Baynard’s, Wright’s and many others. These many famous others probably include yourself and your neighbors, because Bob Lee’s tradition of customer service has endeared the company’s many customers. This is likely the reason their popularity has endured for over sixty years. Two long-time customers pulled in for service and some chit-chat while Todd and I were talking. He noted that the two came from families that had been allowed to run up their bills on credit and then the tab got settled at the end of the month. No plastic — no green money. Simple trust sufficed. He said it was always that way with their best and oldest customers. Many of these continue to patronize Bob Lee’s. The Starkey’s eventually sold their Pinellas County holdings and now maintain a large ranch in Pasco County where tours of their ranch show what old Florida once looked like, including the Cracker Cattle that once roamed the range throughout central Florida. Cattle actually roamed the countryside when Bob Lee first opened his doors, shortly before then Governor Fuller Warren pushed a law through the legislature that ended Florida’s free-range status. Todd and Dotty both laughed about that new painting, which incidentally, has been there for more than a couple of years. I recalled seeing it when it was repainted, thinking a new restaurant was going in, because of the “BLT Grille signage” also painted on the walls. Todd laughed again and said that’s what everybody had thought. It was a sort of inside joke with him and the family at the time. He recalled the painting of the fish while showing a photograph. What they had wanted to do, back in 1991, was to paint a large tire on the building. The city said no — that constituted an illegal sign. So, instead they hired an artist to paint the fish because, in Todd’s words, there’s nothing pretty about the area where tires are installed. They figured at least that warehouse building could serve to be more pleasing to the eyes. He pointed across Fourth Street to the view of Crescent Lake, where the watertower could be seen — the tower painted with an aquatic theme several years ago. “It was such an unusual thing that we hired that same artist, Tom Stovall” Todd chuckled. And so the fish was a focal point until Florida sun and climate took its toll on the paint. Todd decided that rather than try to replace the fish, they would come up with another image. That’s when the BLT Grille idea came about. Look closely at the building. It’s painted to resemble an actual restaurant’s exterior, although imaginary. It’s complete with large black “windows” framed by “window frames.” There is no restaurant. This is simply a way to beautify that stretch of Fourth Street, using Todd’s and the Lee’s fertile imagination. Then they heard from the city again. “You can’t paint the name of a restaurant there unless it’s a real restaurant,” went the general conversation. Todd and the city eventually came to a mutual understanding that is simply a tongue-in-cheek way to enhance the visual experience at that corner. They even have a “chalkboard” featuring “Today’s Specials — Diagnostics – Suspensions – Brakes – Timing Belts, and so on.” The “rest of the story” is that now there really is a “BLT Grille.” Just days before I was there, right after Thanksgiving weekend, a real lunch counter opened for business in the original Bob Lee’s Gas Station building. You can get gourmet deli sandwiches, soups, soft drinks, good coffee (not some reheated container or vending machine like most garages where that’s all you get), and more. It’s a pleasant way to spend the hour or so waiting for your car to be repaired. The wait is also in a pleasant, well-lit environment with comfortable seating. So, the customer-oriented approach continues at Bob Lee’s. Wrapping up the afternoon’s talk with Todd and Bob IV and Dotty, it’s apparent they still value a hands-on touch, making sure everyone who pulls into the drive is satisfied. That sixty year tradition is quite a milestone in our transient society. But Bob Lee’s still has a ways to go, when you look at another long-time family business in Scobeyville, NJ. Laird & Company has been a family-owned brandy distiller since 1780, when Robert Laird, a Revolutionary War soldier, first distilled Applejack to serve at the family’s inn. He provided brandy to George Washington which became such a favorite that the family decided to continue as a distillery. Perhaps Todd and all of the Bob’s are aiming for that sort of distinction. Stick around for a couple of hundred years and we’ll wager a future generation of Lee’s will still be putting air in tires and fuel in the tanks of whatever is our means of transportation then. Even that distiller has a ways to go. There’s a company in Japan that is generally considered to be the world’s oldest family-run business — a construction firm in Osaka, now in their 40th generation, founded in 578 — almost 1400 years ago — still building and repairing religious temples and managing general contracting. Now there’s a goal to aim for.

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March 2008

Creativity from the Courtroom

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Once upon a time, there was a young boy growing up in New York City. He grew up at the time depicted in Jackie Gleason’s television show, The Honeymooners. This young fellow has become quite a storyteller, reflecting on those days when Ralph Kramden, the gruff and blustery bus driver was shown every week to actually have a heart of gold. Each new episode showed Ralph and “the wife” — Alice Kramden — living in a tenement, perhaps in the Upper East Side, which now has become quite a fashionable area. This lad — James Sheehan — is celebrating the publication of his second novel this month, The Law of Second Chances. He now lives in our own fashionable area of Snell Isle. Jim has rare storytelling ability. He came by it naturally as a child, born and reared in New York City. His father was a bus driver with a whimsical story for every situation. If anyone mentioned something that happened, his dad, Jack, would regale everyone in hearing distance with a similar story that happened recently. He describes his mother, Mary, as petite and thin and his dad, on the larger side. In fact, they were both larger than life, typically classic New Yorkers, as brought to life by the great comedian, Jackie Gleason. Jim grew up in a New York Irish-Catholic family with five brothers and sisters in a four-room “railroad flat.” The similarity of his family is amazingly like Gleason’s image of the Kramdens — minus the children, since the television family had no children. Jim even recalls how his mother used to talk to her good friend, Mrs. Delaney, calling out to each other as they hung clothes on the line they shared between the two tenement buildings — real life accurately portrayed on television by the character of Alice Kramden or Ralph yelling to his friend Norton, upstairs. His father is described by Jim as the exact image of the Ralph Kramden character. In one of those curious coincidences of life, one of Jack’s friends was a character actor who appeared on the Jackie Gleason Show from time to time, Barney Martin. Martin is best-known for playing Morty Seinfeld, the father of Jerry, on the popular sitcom Seinfeld. Jim remained a friend with him and stayed in contact over the years. Martin died in 2005. Sheehan has turned a lifetime of legal experience into exciting novels with intriguing story lines. The first in 2005, The Mayor of Lexington Avenue, was described by the Chicago Tribune as “a powerful debut legal thriller.” Both of his novels expose the seamier side of criminal life as well as the “practical side” of jurisprudence. Sometimes that “practical side” gets in the way of fairness for those on trial — a trial that could result in dozens of years in prison — or a death sentence. There are amazing lapses in seeking the truth, or obstructing it, sometimes on the part of investigators or both prosecuting and defense attorneys in trying to resolve a speedy trial — or at worst, actually concealing evidence. A legal thriller is the buzzword description for novels of this genre. It’s an apt description — legal because it centers accurately on legal happenings, arrests, court trials, and the like. It’s a thriller because it does keep you off balance and often on the edge of your seat. Both of Jim’s novels could also be described as “page turners” — so full of action and excitement that the reader can’t put them down. Jim has a passion to see justice provided for all — especially for those who have been shortchanged with inadequate legal counsel. That — along with a hard look at the death penalty — provides much of the substance of his writing. In his first book, Rudy, a young man of limited mental capacity is targeted by the local police in a tiny Florida town near Lake Okeechobee with the fictional, name, Bass Creek. Rudy’s only “crime” is being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rudy is eventually sentenced to death. A hotshot Miami lawyer named Jack Tobin becomes interested in the case ten years later. The story unfolds from there, told in tight dialogue as only someone who has been in these types of situations could tell it. The Law of Second Chances begins with a similar theme. Henry Wilson is a man who has been on death row in Starke for seventeen years. His execution date is drawing near and he has run out of appeals. Attorney Jack Tobin lives in Bass Creek. He is called to Starke to seek grounds for a new trial. Both Tobin and Bass Creek have surfaced in Jim’s first novel along with a few other characters. The name for the attorney, Jack Tobin, honors his father, Jack — and his mother, whose maiden name was Tobin. Other name of characters, events that take place, locales that are accurately described. All stem from childhood memories. The books are indeed a tribute to Jim’s family and his heritage. Jim mentioned his next book is already well under way. That book is certain to be in the same terse and witty style of starting with a bang-up surprise and not letting up until the last paragraph. It will be a story about racial issues and the many injustices incurred by one race against another. This book should be exciting and insightful. He found his way to Stetson for his law degree, fully intending to return to his home town surroundings in the Big Apple. Other matters intervened, such as earning a living to support his then growing family. He took a position with the city attorney’s office in Tampa. He began his practice of law in St. Petersburg in 1983. Like so many writers, Jim has experienced considerably more in life than most of us. He has literally “done everything.” He has seen life as a shoe-shine boy, supermarket clerk, short-order cook and construction worker. His background makes him very comfortable with and in tune with the lives of “working-class people.” These are the very people he frequently had for his clientele. “Had” as clientele. Too young to be eligible for social security, but practicing law long enough to have seen nearly everything imaginable, Jim has mostly retired from his profession as a trial lawyer. Much of his reason for walking away from the courtroom is the stress — the frustrations — of having to deal with all the problems of his clients. His clients only called on his services when they were in some sort of trouble, either having done wrong to someone else, or someone else was doing them wrong. At times they were beyond help, but still hurting, psychologically or economically. Sometimes Sheehan simply could not reach a happy solution because of loopholes and cracks in the legal system. Jim recalls one frightening encounter when a client came close to committing suicide in Jim’s driveway. The incident is still difficult for him to talk about. Although police were on the scene, it was Jim and a good friend — a psychologist — who finally talked the distraught man into surrendering his fully loaded 9mm pistol. Sheehan has been writing stories for years as a way of easing the stress that was overtaking his life. While The Law of Second Chances is his second published novel, it is actually the fifth novel he has written, along with two un-published stage plays. Some themes become apparent as you read these novels. Jim is passionate about the concept of fairness and equality so far as the law of the land is concerned. He is also a fervent voice for re-thinking the death penalty. Simply put, he wants it stopped altogether, mainly because of many imperfections in the legal system. These two main points leap out at the reader of either of his novels. Much of this sense of frustration comes through on the pages of his book, as he cries out for justice for his characters. He also castigates those who willfully abuse the rights of others of his characters. Each of the characters has a real life counterpoint somewhere in Jim’s memory. That’s why each character appears so accurately described. There may be some writers who sort-of drift haphazardly into their career from whatever background they happen to have. Jim’s situation is not at all like that. He has a solid background in communicating, an absolute necessity in the courtroom. He succinctly explains that planning for and successfully arguing a case in court is identical to the process and the mechanics of writing a novel. In both circumstances, the first task is to gather facts (evidence). After all of the facts are organized, the plan for presenting these facts is developed. Now, substitute “writing the manuscript” for “presenting the evidence” and the metaphor should be obvious. He has drawn top reviews for The Mayor of Lexington Avenue from some lofty critics, including the New York Times Book Review: “Sheehan writes with bleak clarity when he’s sharing the dirty tricks of his trade...but there’s a touch of the poet in his voice.” The St. Petersburg Times also chimed in: “...intelligent commentary about the inherent flaws of the capital punishment system.” Through it all, Jim remains guided by his good judgement and considerable advice from his sister, Kate Hartson. He credits Kate for being like a mentor to him. She work with Time-Life in New York. He is quick to note that his fiction is for entertainment. Characters must be believable, story-lines must be convincing, and story lines must be carefully wrapped together. Jim Sheehan has developed all of the above into success. The publication date of this issue of the Northeast Journal coincides with the debut of The Law of Second Chances. Jim is scheduled for a book signing at Haslems on March 8. Another almost eerie coincidence is from the 1960’s movie, A Bronx Tale. The young boy portrayed in that film often rides the bus, seated behind his dad, the bus driver. His father talks to him about life experiences as they drive through the streets of New York. Jim says he did the same thing with his dad, even to the exact seat as the boy in the movie. Another episode from his life was shared by Jim. There are scenes from the apartment where he grew up, where Johnny and Mikey, two of the characters in The Mayor of Lexington Avenue would sneak out of their home using the fire escape after their parents went to bed. They roamed the streets of New York until the wee hours of the morning. This is another exact recall of Jim’s boyhood when his brother and he would sneak out of their apartment using the fire escape. If you decide to get a copy of either or both books, you will definitely find good reading, some thoughts for serious reflection, along with a generous treatment of accurate, first-hand experience describing the streets of New York. Now you know why St. Petersburg writer James Sheehan describes those scenes in New York so convincingly.

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September 2008

Rogers Cleaners — Brightening St. Petersburg Since 1916

John L. Bailey

(This story has not been formatted for the internet)

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon in the Old Northeast, about three years ago. The new homeowner was in the attic of the modest bungalow, cleaning out the previous owner’s clutter. Not a comfortable place in St. Petersburg’s summer heat, but the task had to be done — all the old belongings needed to be cleared out. A curious item was noticed underneath a large chest of drawers — an old Rogers Cleaners bag. The part of the bag that had been underneath the chest was preserved in nearly original condition. This person who had just moved into the neighborhood was unfamiliar with Rogers, but decided to call and see if it was of any interest. The old paper garment bag was typical of the type used by laundries years ago to put over your clothes after cleaning. Mitchell Rogers looked closely at the bag, as memories raced through his mind. His great-great grandfather, named Mitchell Rogers, had started the business way back in 1916. Mitchell Rogers IV now owns Rogers Cleaners, the venerable family-owned business that dates from St. Petersburg’s early days. Mitchell did some research on that bag and discovered that the company had used that style of garment cover for several years after the business had started early last century. Mitchell’s great-great-great grandfather was one of the founding settlers of St. Petersburg, along with Peter Demens, John C. Williams, Henry Hibbs and others instrumental in obtaining rail service into the area that is now downtown St. Petersburg. The new railroad helped spark the early development of our community. You’ll find Mitchell Rogers’ name on the plaque at Pioneer Park at Central Avenue and Beach Drive, across from Bayfront Towers. The historical bag discovered by the newcomer to St. Petersburg is now proudly displayed in the lobby at Rogers Cleaners. It is a symbol of the history represented on 4th Street North, just a couple of blocks south of 22nd Avenue North. The family business has been handed down from one generation to the next. Mitchell noted that it was sold for the first time exactly one year ago when he took over. Prior to that, the “hand-down” was accomplished within the family with a friendly hand-shake and grand family ceremony. Last year, when M.C. wanted to pass the business to Mitchell IV, attorneys counseled that it would be best to have this be a formal “sale.” Mitchell is justifiably proud of being the 4th generation of Rogers’ leading the family-owned business. Not too many years from now, in 2016, Rogers will celebrate a century of doing business in St. Petersburg. He is so proud of his heritage with the company that their main advertising brochure includes an interesting page full of historical photographs and a brief history of how the business had started. Mitchell’s great-great grandfather Rogers left the comforts of St. Petersburg in 1910 to take a business course in Jacksonville. Later, he took a position with a haberdasher but soon had the idea to start a “pressing club.” At that time, there was no such thing as a “dry cleaner” service. Men’s suits were cleaned by sponging and then pressed with a steam-iron to eliminate wrinkles. Mitchell began by picking up clothes along a regular route, using his horse and wagon. His business prospered. Friends he had left behind in St. Petersburg encouraged Mitchell to return home. He and his wife Abbie had two young children at home, so relocation would not be easy. They both missed their hometown so Abbie encouraged her husband to move back to St. Petersburg. She vowed to help him restart the “pressing club” in this rapidly growing community on the western side of Tampa Bay. In September 1916, the young couple opened for business at 529 Central Avenue. They soon became mechanized with the purchase of the first Hoffman Steam Press to be used in Florida. To this day, the Hoffman Pressing Machine Company still manufactures laundry and dry cleaning presses for laundries like Rogers. The move back to St. Petersburg was fortuitous. Mitchell and Abbie found great success. They built a little store “way out of town” at Central Avenue and 17th Street. This served as their primary location for decades. That little store had to be razed six years ago, because it was in need of too many repairs. In 1980, the Rogers’ moved their main facility to 2018 4th Street North, which is its home now. But the location of that little store on Central remains the place of many memories of some of Rogers’ longest employees even today. There are several with over thirty years of employment. Rogers Cleaners has expanded the business by opening a garment and textile restoration service at the old location on Central, specializing in providing restoration for those who have experienced a garment-related disaster. Over their 90-plus years serving St. Petersburg, the Rogers family has become an integral part of the Old Northeast community. Their relocation to the present store proved to be instrumental, along with many other businesses, to restore life to this older section of St. Petersburg, at a time when most communities were moving farther away from the downtown core. Now, Rogers Cleaners is right in the heart of this developing Fourth Street Business District that helps bring essential services literally within walking distance of much of the Old Northeast area. Rogers Cleaners was one of the pioneers of drive-through delivery and pick-up — a big attraction for our mobilized society. They enjoy a first-name basis with most customers, thanks in part to many long-term employees. Several times during a typical day, Mitchell may spot a long-time customer at the drive-through and rush over to chat for a few moments. On a recent visit with Mitchell, we were introduced to several of his older employees — older is not to be confused with their ages, but their longevity. One of them, in particular, is highly valued because of the vanishing skills of spotting clothes. Most people think of a dry-cleaner as first defense against discoloring spots that can spell the end of a favorite dress or suit, if not properly cleaned. Several years ago, most cleaning companies used the dangerous and toxic chemical tetrachloroethene, also known as perchloroethylene, referred in the trade as “perc.” Most of us outside the trade may remember calling it tetrachloroethylene, or simply, “dry cleaning fluid.” It is a substance that is considered hazardous to use because it can cause many health-related problems with sustained exposure. The term “dry cleaning” is a bit of an oxymoron. It is “dry” as opposed to “wet with water.” The fact that there is no water involved in cleaning is why the process is called "dry." Garments are actually immersed in the solvent in a type of machine similar to the washer in your home, but much more complex. In the mid-nineteenth century, a French dye-works owner, noticed that his table cloth became cleaner after his maid accidentally overturned a kerosene lamp on it. The owner began offering a new service and called it "dry cleaning." Early dry cleaners used a variety of solvents — including gasoline and kerosene — to clean clothes and fabrics. Because these are volatile liquids, they evaporate rapidly and so the fabric dries quickly. These are also very dangerous in a closed building for obvious reasons of flammability. Many in the cleaning industry have switched to organic solvents that are much more eco-friendly. Mitchell’s dad, whom most know as “M.C.” was uncomfortable about using “perc” and switched to organic about fifteen years ago. Rogers Cleaners was among the first to switch and did so because of environmental concerns. A later conversation with M.C. Rogers reinforced the sense of history connected to the company. He recalled their connection with baseball, dating from St. Petersburg’s earliest connections with baseball. Babe Ruth and Yogi Berra, among many other baseball greats who have enjoyed spring training in St. Petersburg over years, were customers of Rogers Cleaners. M.C. recalls hearing stories of Babe Ruth hoisting himself onto the counter (of course, at the old location on Central and 17th) to talk with “the girls” and regale them with his exploits on the field. Another baseball great was Don Larson. “Who is Don Larson?” those with little sense of baseball history may ask. Check out any baseball book of statistics. Larson was the only pitcher to ever throw a perfect game in the World Series. He won Game 5 in 1956, pitching for the New York Yankees against the Brooklyn Dodgers. Maybe that’s why the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles after the 1957 season, but that’s another story for another time. M.C. shed light on another old photo in Mitchell’s office when we were there. Mitchell’s grandfather became interested in breeding and racing greyhounds. He bought a farming area near Lealman along 62nd Avenue North. For many years, the Rogers’ dogs were fixtures at Derby Lane. M.C. was less interested in this than his dad, and did not pursue this fascination with the dogs. One of the things we treasure about our community is its rich history and historical value — a community resource that is irreplaceable as well as unique. The basic character of this area is enhanced by these ties to our past, exemplified by business such as Rogers Cleaners.

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November 2008

A Chat With Jillian

Chattaway Restaurant

John L. Bailey

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The telephone ring interrupted a reverie — dreaming about a delicious burger, or perhaps a grouper sandwich — at my most favorite neighborhood eatery, although NIMBY to some of us in Northeast St. Petersburg. I took the call. “The assignment, should you agree to accept it, is a story about The Chattaway . . . this tape will self-destruct . . .” Images of Peter Graves flashed a “Mission Impossible” warning about this assignment. I must be still in dreamland. Ding ding ding. Wait a minute. The Chattaway? “Nice story, but they’re Not In My — er, Our — Back Yard!” Not if you’re a Northeaster. “Not to worry,” was the reply. “Jillian lives — well somewhere here in the Old Northeast — so she is one of us Northeasters.” Jillian Frers has been a part of this fabulous piece of St. Petersburg history for over thirty years. Who lives anywhere in St. Petersburg who doesn’t know about Chattaway? They’ve been around in present form, well, since before the drive-in days of the 1940’s. Many high-schoolers of that era spent most nights listening to Bill Haley and The Comets or Frankie Laine or Joni James crooning away while munching on some of the best Grouper or burgers and fries found anywhere. And the decor of the place . . . er . . . does kitsch work? Where else will you find three or four dozen old bathtubs repainted pink or 1950-green, that serve as flower beds? Where else do you find spare “napkins” on a roll of paper towels, neatly clipped with a clothes pin on a spindle at each table? Where else do you find most of the tables in the courtyard to be fashioned out of 2x6’s? A disclaimer may be in order. Like many in St. Petersburg, The Chattaway is on of my absolute favorites. What is described below is totally from my experiences and enjoyable dining on many occasions — perhaps dozens of times every year for much of my life. You can see that my glowing descriptions may be a bit biased. The details and the history are based on a delightful few minutes talking with one of our neighbors — someone who knows more about The Chattaway than anyone else — Jillian Frers. Jillian was born in England. She met and married an American serviceman, and wound up in America at age 19. This brings her ever closer to the saga of this southside St. Petersburg icon. The location and the store had been around since 1921, a well-known general store called Four Corners, at the same intersection of 22nd Avenue South and 4th Street for all those years. The original owners had sold it to a couple who had a daughter who . . . well . . . talked a lot. So the name Chattaway Drive-In was chosen in 1933. The owners expanded the store with a walk-up bar and drive-in service complete with uniformed car-hops. It was a successful addition, partly because of the nearby Coast Guard station. It became a favorite hang-out for these young men in the 1940’s while off-duty — a place for a beer, burger and relaxation. Come to think of it, it’s still that today — a favorite hang-out for the same reasons. Then, Helen Lund shows up. Helen had a reputation of being an outstanding cook. She was a Bell Telephone operator in Brooklyn, New York. Like so many others, she longed for a place in the sun and saved enough money to move to St. Petersburg, where her excellent cook reputation re-surfaced amongst newly found friends here. This encouraged her to buy the drive-in store in 1951, and the Chattaburger was born.. Everett Lund joined his mom in 1954. Jillian, then with six children, married Everett in the 1970’s and became owner of The Chattaway when Everett passed away several years ago. Now, Jillian and daughters Debbie and Winona and her son Greg enjoy pleasing their customers with the help of grandchildren Danielle and Ramona. Chattaway Drive-In was eventually renamed again to The Chattaway, when drive-ins fell out of favor. Pleasing the customers may sound pretty simple, but the reality is living up to expectations of the customers. It is this reality that long-time head cook, Juanita, finds is her challenge every day. Juanita has been with The Chattaway for forty years and still makes sure that her delicious soups, onion rings and fried chicken are the same from one day to the next. She does not dare to vary a single thing in the recipes. She is listed on the menu as the creator of Juanita’s “soup of the day.” Juanita also has a “street sign” — part of the courtyard decor — named for her. Customers learn to enjoy particular foods and expect — no, demand — that it tastes the same from one visit to the next. This is indeed a hallmark of The Chattaway — and has been that way for years. It’s one reason why I keep going back. It’s the reason why so many of their customers keep going back. Another reason that is very important to me, my wife Patricia, and our dog Gwynedd, is that we can take Gwynedd whenever we visit The Chattaway. Most customers enjoy eating in the pleasant courtyard (and don’t even know of the delightful dining room decor of English collectibles). Jillian is quick to note that they were “dog-friendly” long before that term became popular and she intends to continue that tradition for well-behaved canine companions. Several innovations over recent years also help keep customers returning. Those who have eaten here over the years have taken note of subtle landscaping changes that only enhance The Chattaway’s unique character. The dining room, decorated with English memorabilia, is the room that was the original general store. Today, the dining room features a large personal collection that represents Jillian’s heritage. This is her particular touch that features eight generations of British royalty, from the first Queen Elizabeth, through Victoria and to the current Queen, Elizabeth II. A photograph of the late Princess Diana adorns one wall. The 1936 abdication speech of King Edward VIII is nearby. The Queen Mum and Elizabeth II are nearby on another wall. Photographs and paintings of other monarchs are scattered here and there, along with numerous tea services, Windsor China and Royal artifacts — all indicators of Jillian’s keen sense of decor, along with a touch of quirkiness. This sense of decor spills onto the menu and is apparent around the courtyard, surrounded by Confederate Jasmine on trellises. The quaint garden setting ranges from a log carved to look like a sixteen-foot alligator to the sign on one of the food storage rooms, “The Butler’s Pantry,” and even to the appearance of the restroom walls that were custom-painted in a jungle theme by a long-time customer. These are restrooms that you’ll never see anywhere else. Even if you have no other reason to visit one of them, it’s worth a “look-see.” The menu includes a delightful version of the classic “BLT,” enhanced by slices of roast beef (veddy British) — once called The Tony Blair Special. That was when Blair was Prime Minister of England. Then the menu suddenly changed, long before Blair was replaced in 2007, and this sandwich became referred to as Siver’s Choice. Another great choice is a grilled cheese sandwich, delicious with sliced tomatoes grilled with the cheese. Jillian simply explained that she had gotten angry one day with something or other that Blair had done and decided to rename the sandwich. The decision was for a good cause — a long-time friend and customer of forty years had suddenly died while on his morning run. Now that same sandwich honors her late friend Ted Siver. There is also the unconventional manner of the flower beds — that is, the bathtubs — arranged around the courtyard and throughout the parking lot. Jillian wanted flower beds and the idea for using bathtubs for these beds suddenly occurred to her years ago while on a vacation in the North Carolina mountains. Another legend was begun. After purchasing several tubs, she soon realized that people would give them away, when she pulled into the parking lot one morning and found a tub left by someone, presumably a long-time customer. More of them appeared with time until she finally had to say — no more! In recent years, Debbie has taken on the landscaping duties, and her green thumb has resulted in the lush but eclectic environment. If you haven’t been to The Chattaway in more than a couple of months, be aware that a new look may greet you, although it has been evolving bit by bit, day by day — not suddenly overnight. Music is just one change of recent years. Tuesday nights feature a sort-of “amateur” night, with groups that are trying to establish a name for themselves. Weekend nights could be anything from classic jazz to 1960’s folk music to reggae. Jillian’s son Greg helps coordinate this aspect of The Chattaway’s appeal that has drawn even more people to this St. Petersburg landmark. My reverie continues — no longer dreaming about a burger in our St. Petersburg paradise, but reflecting on the marvelous array of people like Jillian Frers, who live in our backyard here in the Old Northeast. Each one contributes so much vibrancy to the entire community, regardless of which far flung corner of the world they claim and cherish as their original home. On reflection, it is such a privilege to meet each one and to share their unique stories with our readers. Hmmm — gotta go now — Patricia, Gwynedd and I are on the way to Chattaway. I think I’ll have some of Juanita’s black-eye pea soup for starters. . .

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March 2009

Of Pelicans, Piers & Sailing Ships

John L. Bailey

Let’s begin at the beginning and then go on toward the end, to loosely paraphrase the King in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, since this is loosely about sailing ships, and perhaps a bit of sealing wax. Oh, don’t forget the pelicans and the bait shops.

The names should all fall into place as we go toward the end … (the story continues here.)

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Something There Is …

July 2009

Another tradition has also been around for several years — Porch Parties. This is an idea that originated with …

(This story continues here.)

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Take a Ride with Duke

May 2010

       “Way back when” is always used whenever some want to make a statement about the “good old days.” Life was slower then, they say. It had to be, because you couldn’t go very fast on 1-horsepower carriages …
This is how it starts — go here to read the story.

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Haints, A Woman Scorned and other Ghost Tales

September 2010

      

On our first stop, she pointed out a face in the old banyan tree in Straub Park. Lynn mentioned that this was her favorite place to play when she was a little girl. Her friend was the face in the banyan tree. Yep. We picked the right tour guide to learn about ghosts in St. Petersburg.
For the entire story — go here.

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Waterfront Centennial

November 2010

About the time this edition is delivered to your home, there will be a celebration called “Party in the Parks,” on Saturday, November 6, 2010, commemorating one hundred years of city parks in St. Petersburg. St. Petersburg's Waterfront Centennial Celebration has been in planning for well over a year by the City of St. Petersburg and St. Petersburg Preservation, a non-profit volunteer organization. The day-long event will have all-day and evening activities in all the downtown waterfront parks, stretching from North Shore Park, 901 North Shore Drive Northeast, to Albert Whitted Park, just north of the airport. Many who live in the Old Northeast or nearby celebrate these parks on an almost daily basis. From walking and jogging, to using the playgrounds for picnics or relaxing at one of the musical events, the vision of our civic forebears has paid many dividends in what we take almost for granted. Of special note to “Old Northeast-ers” is the one-of-a-kind sundial being installed at Vista Point, in North Shore Park. This has been designed by Old Northeast resident and sculptor Eric Higgs. This will be a one-of-a-kind stone sculpture, a sundial on a human-scale. You will become the style, also called the Gnomon, on a sundial. Your shadow will show the time. Higgs, whose monumental sculptures have been installed and exhibited around the world, is contributing his expertise to build this unique work. The City of St. Petersburg is providing support and landscaping as the sundial is being completed next to the Pinellas Trail at Vista Point. The Homeowner Association of the Old Northeast was the first donor, setting aside $1,000 toward the construction costs for the project. The Old Northeast Garden Club and its members have contributed nearly as much, along with many individuals and organizations. St. Petersburg has long treasured the public parklands along our downtown waterfront. Unlike the large city across the bay, waterfront was treasured almost from the beginning. These parklands now stretch from Albert Whitted Airport to Coffee Pot Bayou, covering approximately 23 blocks. There are eleven parks — Albert Whitted Park, Al Lang Field, Pioneer Park, Demens Landing Park, South Straub Park (once called Soreno Park), North Straub Park, Vinoy Park, North Shore Park, Elva Rouse Park, Gizella Kopsick Palm Arboretum, and Flora Wylie Park. A top-notch swimming pool and tennis courts, along with a softball/baseball field is part of the attraction. Oh yes, there is also a well-attended dog park. All of this land is owned by city and made available for use by the public. But it didn’t happen automatically. It took many of the founding fathers who had the foresight to preserve this legacy for future generations. In the beginning, the waterfront along downtown was a mix of commercial and recreational uses. Peter Demens built a railroad pier at the beginning of First Avenue South in 1888, where Demens’ Landing is located today. He wanted to connect his railroad with shipping interests so the economy of St. Petersburg would extend into the world. Tourism was also part of the blend. A large bathing pavilion was built adjacent to the railroad pier. Eventually, Demens’ railroad was acquired by Henry B. Plant’s Sanford and St. Petersburg Railroad. In the early 1900s a group led by a Mr. A. P. Avery dredged a channel that would open the shoreline between Central Avenue and First Avenue North to deep-water vessels. It became known as the Little Coe Channel. This was the first step in the creation of a port in St. Petersburg that could actually compete with the deep-water port of Tampa. The waterfront soon became littered with smelly fish processing houses and unkempt docks. F. A. Davis operated the electric power plant with its twin smoke stacks that kept a pall of smoke over the city whenever the wind blew from the east which is the typical pattern during most of summer. It was this disorderly and unkempt environment that flied in the face of all the claims about healthful life in the sunshine. William L. Straub came to St. Petersburg for his health in 1899. This unhealthy state of affairs is the city he encountered. In 1901 he became part-owner and the editor of the St. Petersburg Times. At this point, he was in a position to become a force in local affairs. He began to be the leading exponent to preserve the city’s entire waterfront as a public park. Straub had attended the 1893 World’s Fair, held on the Chicago waterfront on Lake Michigan. So when he came to St. Petersburg, this idea of a “City Beautiful” stayed with him. Straub was determined to lead St. Petersburg into this new concept of urban development, a radical idea for that time in history. He considered public parks as a prerequisite for community order and well-being. Like Frederick Law Olmsted, who had designed New York’s Central Park, Straub felt that any city needed large and beautiful green spaces in order to balance and compensate for the pace and character of urban life. The Board of Trade, the predecessor to the Chamber of Commerce, supported a public park along the bay between Second and Fifth Avenues North. Straub editorialized in favor of this. By 1905, a Mr. J. M. Lewis presented a plan to turn virtually the entire downtown waterfront into a park. A year later, Perry Snell began buying waterfront property, that he held in trust until the city could purchase this property for parklands. This is the same Mr. C. Perry Snell who developed much of Northeast St. Petersburg and Snell Isle. By early 1909, boosters for a public waterfront formed the St. Petersburg Waterfront Company. This company took over some of the waterfront lots already purchased, acquired some remaining property, created a yacht basin, arranged for commercial waterfront traffic to the south, and beautified the park land. This at last spurred the city council to take action. By December of that year, the city purchased the waterfront property on Christmas Eve. In an editorial in the Times that day, Straub called this “the best Christmas present that St. Petersburg ever had.” It was indeed an excellent beginning and Waterfront Park was officially dedicated in December 1910. Improvements were added over the next several years, and by 1925, the total cost to the public to purchase and improve the waterfront totaled nearly Two Million Dollars. The vision that Straub had of open water vistas from downtown St. Petersburg has remained nearly intact. The popularity of St. Petersburg as a tourist destination undoubtedly is a direct result of this vision. It is also interesting to note that St. Petersburg has the second largest amount of parkland along the waterfront in the United States; Chicago has the largest. The value of the waterfront parks is ensured by a provision in the city charter that requires voter approval before any of this park property could be sold, or leased for a period of more than five years. The newest addition of waterfront property was added in 2007 when the old asphalt parking lot across from Mahaffey Theater was acquired, landscaped and named Whitted Park. John L. Bailey is an Emmy-award-winning video producer / writer with over 45 years experience, producing informational films. Now he uses his expertise to help you create DVD memories of family histories, events, birthdays and more, using your video and photographs. A sample video can be found at www.webtradeshows.com/jlb-videodemo.htm. Contact him at 727-798-2846 or e-mail: jlbwriter@earthlink.net.

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T’was The Night Before…

November 2010

All of us draw traditions from holidays of the past to enhance new traditions of today. Regardless of your feelings for the upcoming holiday season, or whether you prefer to look at this time simply as a season for relaxing with family and friends, it remains a special time of remembering our youth perhaps, or loved ones with whom we share the days during mid-winter. Perhaps you enjoy the time as a religious holiday other than Christmas. Regardless of how you celebrate, the holiday time that starts around Thanksgiving and runs through the balance of the year remains special to the hearts of many. We want to share some stories of Christmas memories from several people – and that includes our children – from throughout the Old Northeast and beyond. Their stories can teach us broad lessons about the season. Some are poignant and some border on the sublime. All are written with love and a twinkle in the eye, “in hope, perhaps, that St. Nicholas soon will be here.” Our first recollection is from a visitor to this writer and his wife, Patricia Calvert. Gisela Driscoll, or Nicky as her friends know her, spent several days enjoying the beautiful autumn weather on Snell Isle. She grew up in the little south German village of Badmünster am Stein. The name literally means “resort by the big rock.” This is what she told us as we drove her to Tampa International Airport to catch her plane back to her home in Fairfax, Virginia. I prefer the German way of celebration. St. Nikolas came with presents, and then Kristkind, the Christ Child, came on Christmas Day. Tradition dictated that we waited until Christmas Eve to put up and decorate the tree. The children were not allowed to see it until we came home from church on Christmas Eve. The presents were opened that evening, not on Christmas Day. It was very traditional and I always liked that better than the traditional American Christmas. St. Nikolas Day is December 5. At night, St. Nikolas comes. We would put our shoes outside the door. The good children got presents in their shoes and the ones who “needed improvement” got a lump of coal. One year I wasn’t sure if I was going to get a Christmas present or not. I wished for a little stroller for my doll. We had old-fashioned doors with keyholes. I would look through the keyhole hoping to see the stroller. But my grandmother said I would be blind if I looked through the keyhole. When I got up in the morning, I opened the door and saw the stroller. It was the first thing I looked at. “Oh I’m not blind after all,” I said. That was the most memorable Christmas of my childhood. My very first Christmas in the United States was when I arrived in New York on the 5th of October and I stayed there with my sponsor for several weeks. When Christmas came, I had already met my future husband, although I didn’t know it at the time. I celebrated Christmas with my sponsors. It was sort-of half and half. She had one-half German Christmas and one-half American Christmas. A visit to Westminster Palms Retirement Home introduced us to three delightful ladies. Marie Gaglio shared this story. Every Christmas was memorable for me. I liked playing with dolls – every doll I could get. Mother was an artist. She made doll clothes for me. They were better than my own clothes. Some were black velvet with gold buttons and some had mother of pearl decorations. One Christmas I asked for a train set, even though I was a girl. One year my brother won a lottery. His prize was a doll with a mother or pearl necklace. I enjoyed playing with that doll more than he did. Every year with my parents was priceless. Mildred Myers recalled one momentous Thanksgiving dinner. I remember one Thanksgiving Dinner soon after I married my husband. I had four children, my brother and his wife came to dinner with their five children. I remember my grandfather saying to my grandmother: “Can you believe we started this wonderful family on just $9.00 per week?” That was a long time ago. Esther Marshick talked about how excited she would be as a child. I remember when I was a child, I was so excited at Christmas time I couldn’t sleep. And each Christmas day was so beautiful with the tree and decorations. When I grew up, I taught school and each Christmas, our class decorated a tree. I would go to Webb’s City for the tree. I always loved cars – all my life I’ve been a car person. I always wanted a car for Christmas, one of those little cars that you could ride in and pedal. I got a wagon instead. When I was a teenager, I dreamed of having a Chrysler Roadster, and I could see myself driving out Central Avenue to the beaches with a German police dog by my side. In her home overlooking Coffee Pot Bayou, Millie Akins reflected on her long life. My husband and I had five children. He made $12.00 per week and I worked and made $12.75 per week. So we did not have much, but we had each other and our five children. We would make special cookies and cakes at Christmas time for them. We would use lots of red and green cherries and nuts for the Christmas fruitcake, always a white cake. We didn't care for the dark ones with lots of molasses and spices. We always used lots of vanilla flavoring and lemon and almond flavor. Later on, we had an antique model of a church and stable and we used figurines to make a creche each Christmas. Mrs. Akins’ caretaker, Sarita Richards, has worked with the Akins family for over nine years. Sarita also recalls what a joy it is to work for Mrs. Akins. Every year my family has a much happier Christmas because of her generosity. I enjoy setting up the creche with her. Being with Mrs. Akins is a true blessing for me and my family. What is Christmas without the fresh outlook of our children? Each child can share amazing insight in the special time of year that is rapidly approaching. At Canterbury School on Snell Isle, three first-graders gave us some insight from their special viewpoints. Madison Tomko described her tender memories. Last Christmas I got an AmericanGirl doll. I named her Julie. I hope I get a DSi game for Christmas. I enjoy spending Christmas with my grandparents and friends. Devyn Pickel has a little different perspective. I hope I get a little puppy I can hold in my hands. We have a big dog – a Great Dane, but I want one I can hold in my lap. Boys like Tytan Moore have their own ideas about what they may be hoping Santa brings them. Last year I got a Star Wars set. Now I want a rifle that shoots bullets – one that has a rope on it so I can get the bullets back when you shoot it. I love to go to my grandma and grandpa's home. We do that every Christmas. From childhood viewpoints to adult insights, Joan Priest on Snell Isle, remembers how children can make surprising remarks about their own memories. She related this story with a tear in her eye as she recalled her oldest son's remarks one Christmas when they still lived in New York. When our children were about age four or five, we always decorated the tree on Christmas Eve. We wouldn't let the children see it until we had it decorated. Then we made sure they had their hair combed and face washed – they would come down the stairs and their eyes would light up as big as saucers when they saw the tree and all the presents. One year when we had a new baby in the house. I came home from the hospital on December 15 and told my oldest son he had to help with the tree that year because I was still too weak to do everything myself. Later, on Christmas Day, he told me it just wasn't the same anymore since he helped put the tree up, and didn't have that special walk down the stairs to see it for the first time. He said Christmas just wasn't the same to him that year. In later years, I remember teaching each child how to put tinsel and ice-cycles on the tree. Just like all youngsters, they wanted to throw a big bunch at the tree and hope the tinsel found a branch. I had to tell them to patient and put the tinsel on the branches one at a time. It took a long time but they finally caught on. In his comfortable loft apartment in the Old Northeast, Tom Stovall brought a completely different perspective to our journey through old memories. I remember the first time I saw snow. I was with a rock band in the 1960s that we called Mark V. We got a phone call that we could come to New York City to cut a record for the Mercury label. I was sixteen at the time, and told my Mom I would be back in three days. Well, the three days turned into more than a year. We made the recording in New York and most of the guys in the band were from the northeast part of the country. It was normal for bands up there to play a circuit during the winter months, from Portland, Maine to Boston and some other towns. So we decided to take advantage of the extra money a tour would bring. When Christmas Eve came, all the guys went back to their homes to be with their families but I didn't know a soul. So I was in Portland all by myself, except for a dog that belonged to one of the guitar players. I had never been that far from home before. I knew snow was forecast, so I was determined to stay up all night to see it snow, but finally went off to sleep about 3:30. When I woke up I looked out the door, and saw snow for the first time in my life! It was wonderful even though I was by myself fifteen hundred miles from home. Even though it may seem early to do so, because of our publication and distribution schedule, The Northeast Journal extends holiday greetings to each of our readers. In the spirit of the famous Clement Moore poem, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

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Volunteers = Priceless

March 2011

Volunteers — the word conjures meanings galore … Without the selfless efforts of these “angels without names” usually, most museums and other similar institutions could not exist. We talked with several volunteers — many of them the well-trained docents — for the Salvador Dalí Museum, who will quickly state that their “gratification” far outweighs the time given. (The full story can be found here.)

End of Watch

Mar 2011

The days and the values of suburban neighborhoods — the concern for one’s friends and neighbors — exemplified by old television shows such as Leave It To Beaver or Mayberry RFD are mostly long gone. In those days, society tended to look after each other next door and from the street. Yet there are still those who show us that such values still exist. An event took place one Saturday in February to offer help for neighbors and community because of one tragedy. Then just two days afterward, late in the night on February 21, as this report was being finalized, the same tragedy struck again when Officer David Crawford was shot to death investigating a report of a suspicious person in a homeowner’s back yard. Billy Hume owns Corner Barber Shop at 2031 Fourth Street North. All proceeds and donations from that day went to help the families of the St. Petersburg Officers, Sgt. Thomas Baitinger and Officer Jeffrey Yaslowitz, who were slain without mercy in January. Billy called the effort “Cuts for Cops.” All proceeds from haircuts that day, as well as tips and voluntary donations, went directly to the families, into the Fallen Hero‘s Family Fund. Fellow barbers Billy Hume Jr., and Tami Trimble also donated their skills to this all-day effort. When Billy conceived the idea (actually his son, Billy Jr. started it), friends added to the effort, in true community spirit. The Old Northeast Tavern provided pizzas. Tommy Portelli from Working Cow Homemade Ice Cream donated ice cream. Robert Knighton of Ocean Stone arranged for iced drinks and Dunkin' Donuts coffee and treats. Bank of America assisted with donations. All these businesses and individuals donated their products and services. A silent auction raised additional money. Neighboring businesses provided parking space for the crowds who were there. Two motorcycle officers swept the floors of the shop. At the end of the day they delivered 100% of the proceeds to the Baitinger and Yaslowitz families. Officer Amir Ardebily, a police instructor for SPPD’s SWAT team brought Officer Yaslowitz’s K-9 SUV and answered questions, helping to gather donations. An additional line identifying the officer and his dog, Ace, has been added to the vehicle: “End of Watch 1/24/11.” The fire department sent a truck. Both emergency vehicles with lights flashing and several people waving signs attracted drivers along busy 4th Street North. One customer said that according to his wife, “only Billy can cut it right. In fact, often my wife comes with me, just to catch up on Billy, Bill Jr. who has joined him in the business, his family and St. Pete news.” Tommy Portelli from Working Cow noted that his company contributes a considerable amount of charitable & community involvement. The local company employs 22 people. They’ve been making ice cream for 18 years, supplying about 600,000 gallons a year to 700 stores throughout Florida. Another customer, Darrell Brandimore, patiently waited for his turn in the chair. He said he’s needed a haircut for several days, but waited until this day to help the officers’ families. Darrell has been a regular customer and friend for four years. He commented that this was so much like the way Billy is — always doing something for other people and “making friends with everybody.” Robert Knighton. Owner of Ocean Stone, installs granite counter tops added to the tributes: “I’ve known Billy for years.” Robert donated a lot of items and got friends involved in providing Dunkin' Donuts, coffee, soft drinks and much more, all of which were “sold” to the hundreds of neighbors and customers who stopped by to help. Of course, all of these “sales” also went directly into the fund for the officers. Robert O’Malley walked out of the shop’s door wearing a United State Marine Corps cap. He lives just down the street in the Old Northeast and walked over to help. Asked if he came for his regular haircut, his answer was, “No. I didn’t need a haircut. But I needed to bring a check to add to the fund. And to say hi to my friend, Billy.” Owner Billy Hume states “I did not know them (Officers Baitinger and Yaslowitz) very well personally, but we have to do this for the families of our policemen who serve us in St. Pete, protecting lives and property. This is a way to give back. How can we not help?” Billy organized the whole thing —a simple yet most effective way to reach out and help our community. According to everyone who was there to help in the fundraiser was this commentary, “Billy is constantly doing small things for our community that no one ever knows about.” You can still help. Contact Bill Hume 727-512-5305 or E-mail: cornerbarber@hotmail.com. Especially now that we have another fallen hero. R.I.P. Sgt. Thomas Baitinger. R.I.P. Officer Jeffrey Yaslowitz. R.I.P. Officer David Crawford.

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Fire in the Hole!

May 2011

Here’s the plan — we get on this black-hulled sailboat with the skull and crossbones flag. The flag that means: “Look out we’re pyrates — don’t mess with us.” We’re the intrepid duo … (This exciting adventure continued here.)

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Munchin’ Along

July 2011

This will be uploaded after publication.

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May 05

This story was developed for the May 2005 issue, but was delayed for a future publication date.

Developers Named Henry and Perry

Until Man came to Florida and started developing it, this area of wilderness was a difficult place to live. Even as early settlers started moving to Florida in the mid-nineteenth century, claiming it from descendants of the aboriginal tribes of Miccosukee, Calusa, Tocobaga and subsequent runaways from the Creek, Yuchi, Cherokees and other Indian tribes, loosely called Seminoles, the fledging state was only marginally acceptable for any except the most hardy individuals who eked out a living from the inhospitable land.

That began to change when an Apalachicola physician, in the little fishing town south of Tallahassee, obtained a patent for the first ice-making machine. Dr. John Gorrie developed the apparatus to cool the rooms of his patients who were ill with Yellow Fever and Malaria, common throughout Florida at that time. It was the direct predecessor to air conditioning, as we know it. Air-conditioning became practical with later developments in 1902, by a man in New York City, named Willis Carrier. By the middle of the twentieth century, the air conditioner had brought about a major impact on Florida living.

As Florida became more hospitable with the intense heat and humidity tamed at last, land developers and speculators became more actively involved in forcing major impacts on Florida living, by grabbing whatever land they could, then subdividing and reselling. These were the big promoters, who had learned to use other people’s money to build their own fortunes. Interestingly enough, a close study of most of them will disclose that their driving characteristic was not a love of money itself; rather it was a consuming desire to accomplish things — to get things done.

They opened the wilderness and swamps of Florida to railroads and steamboats; they filled the swamps and created land for the myriads of people flocking to places like St. Petersburg; they built hotels, houses, and office buildings, opening real estate sales offices by the hundreds to accommodate new residents.

These men had names that are identified with Florida counties and developments. These names are well known throughout Florida: Hamilton Disston, Henry Morrison Flagler, Henry Bradley Plant, David Paul Davis, and Perry Snell. Some of these had a significant impact on northeast St. Petersburg, as well as much of the Gulf beaches along the Pinellas coastline.

Hamilton Disston was a financial wizard who saved the state of Florida from certain bankruptcy over a century ago. At the time, he was the nation’s largest landowner. When he decided to invest in Florida property, he eventually bought one-ninth of the total area of the state, that included most of the area that we call St. Petersburg, as well as vast holdings in Hillsborough, Polk, Orange, Highlands, Desoto and most of the area west of Lake Okeechobee.

The state of Florida faced the necessity of paying $1-million interest on railroad bonds that totaled $14-million, during the fifteen-year reconstruction period after the Civil War ended in 1865. If this interest amount had defaulted, the alternative was bankruptcy and the loss of any possible credit for the slowly emerging State of Florida. The State had only one asset that could be offered to someone who would give the government in Tallahassee the $1-million it needed. This was 20,000,000 acres of land, officially designated as "swamp and overflowed" land that had been acquired by Florida from the Federal Government in 1850.

There was one little string attached: the "feds" required Florida to drain the land. Fortunately, there was no deadline indicated. In thirty years there had been no takers because no one knew how much of the land was actually swampy or under water.

Hamilton Disston had inherited the family tool-making business in Philadelphia, specializing in carpenter’s saws. Disston’s father, Henry, had developed a heat treatment method that enabled his saws to keep a sharp cutting edge longer than any of the competitors. By the time Hamilton was twenty-one years old, in 1865, his father renamed the business Disston and Sons.

His 1881 land purchase deal that saved Florida was innovative and ingenious — except it happened to be illegal. Disston and a group of investors from Philadelphia agreed to drain swamplands near Lake Okeechobee in return for half of the reclaimed land. However, the trustees of the land, who were actually the elected officials of the state of Florida, could not give the land to the Disston group, because it was tied up in litigation by then. Creditors had filed suit in Federal Court. They had petitioned for an order that would force the trustees to sell the land in order to recover the $1-million interest being demanded.

Florida Governor William D. Bloxham decided to sell four million acres of this wilderness to Hamilton Disston for 25 cents an acre, thereby providing the state the $1-million needed to repay the creditors. At the time, it was the largest land purchase in United States history ever made by a private individual, with Disston eventually controlling "swamp and overflowed" land in 25 counties, stretching from Ocala to south of Lake Okeechobee.

Disston began to envision an empire in Florida served by water transportation — steamboats in the vast canals, rivers and lakes throughout the newly drained lands that he planned. Henry Flagler and Henry Plant envisioned other means of transportation — railroads. Plant and Flagler were ultimately proved right; Disston guessed wrongly. However, it took thirteen years before he realized how wrong was his vision.

As the drainage progressed across his holdings, a 12,000-acre city along Boca Ciega Bay was established. Hamilton named the community Disston City. It featured 100-foot wide streets with enough room for 50,000 inhabitants that Disston hoped would come to buy homesites. These thousands of people never materialized. This community we know now along Boca Ciega bay is neither a port nor on the Gulf of Mexico, although it is now called Gulfport. Some feel that this well-planned community served as the model for the larger city that developed in the late 1890s. That city is now called St. Petersburg, with its wide streets and logical grid-based layout.

Other developers important to Florida included Henry Bradley Plant, literally a Connecticut Yankee, whose concept was based on strong business principles developed since the mid 1840’s. By then he was a minor executive with Adams Express Company, which was the largest rival of Wells Fargo. Plant engineered the purchase of numerous railroad companies that aided in Adams’ primary business, which was to transport goods and parcels throughout the growing United States. Plant eventually was sent to Augusta, Georgia to manage the company’s Southern Division. Disston developed his expansion dreams on water; Plant centered on steel.

When the War Between the States broke out in 1861, Plant had developed an extensive network throughout the Carolinas, Georgia and Florida for Adams Express, and developed a cozy relationship with the Confederates States of America, with its capitol in Richmond, Virginia. This became a difficult situation for Adams, which had its headquarters in New York City. When Adams tried unsuccessfully to sell its Southern Division, Plant was able to persuade southerners who owned stock in the Adams Company to put up money to buy the Southern Division. This paved the way for Plant to control the new company, named Southern Express Company, Inc., which became the official collector of tariffs for the Confederacy and custodian of all funds entrusted to it for transfer from one location to another.

Plant developed his dynasty by buying railroads and steamship lines. These were eventually tied together and became the Plant System. This ultimately became the Seaboard Airline Railroad, which was extended into the western part of Hillsborough County (and eventually separated into another county named Pinellas) where St. Petersburg was beginning to develop in the late 1890’s.

Among Plant’s mentors and partners were men named Henry S. Sanford, president of Adams Express Company, at the time of Henry Plant’s rise into executive ranks with that company. Plant’s chief partner during his expansion into Southern Express Company was Henry S. Haines of Savannah. The railroad indeed was essential in helping St. Petersburg’s early development. Along the route of the Plant system, cities now bear the names Sanford, Haines City and Plant City. Interestingly, these men were all named Henry.

After another war that ended in 1918 new people began flocking to St. Petersburg, flush with money from the post-World War I boom, all of them looking for a new home in the sun. More developers followed, including Perry Snell, who began marketing the Bay Shore residential subdivision between Fifth and Thirteenth Avenues North in 1906. He sold twenty-one lots in the first three days. Florida continued to be invaded by what we now call snowbirds. The developers who followed were more than happy to accommodate the newcomers in providing homes and property that has developed into the community we enjoy today.

Background information sources: St. Petersburg Museum of History, Will Michaels director and Ann Louise Wikoff archivist; Florida’s Promoters, Charles E. Harner, Trend House, Tampa, 1973.

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May 05 alt

This alternative version was also developed, but killed because the Parsley family decided they did not want the publicity.

Developers Amongst Us

Until Man came to Florida and started developing it, this area of wilderness was a difficult place to live. Even as early settlers started moving to Florida in the mid-nineteenth century, claiming it from descendents of the aboriginal tribes of Miccosukee, Calusa, Tocobaga and subsequent runaways from the Creek, Yuchi, Cherokees and other Indian tribes, loosely called Seminoles, the fledging state was only marginally acceptable for any except the most hardy individuals who eked out a living from the inhospitable land.

That began to change when an Apalachicola physician, in the little fishing town south of Tallahassee, obtained a patent for the first ice-making machine. Dr. John Gorrie developed the apparatus to cool the rooms of his patients who were ill with Yellow Fever and Malaria, common throughout Florida at that time. It was the direct predecessor to air conditioning, as we know it, that became practical with later developments in 1902, by a man in New York City, named Willis Carrier. By the middle of the twentieth century, the air conditioner had brought about a major impact on Florida living.

As Florida became more hospitable with the intense heat and humidity tamed at last, land developers and speculators became more actively involved in forcing major impacts on Florida living, by grabbing whatever land they could, then subdividing and reselling. These were the big promoters, who had learned to use other people’s money to build their own fortunes. Interestingly enough, a close study of most of them will disclose that their driving characteristic was not a love of money itself; rather it was a consuming desire to accomplish things — to get things done.

They opened the wilderness and swamps of Florida to railroads and steamboats; they filled the swamps and created land for the myriads of people flocking to places like St. Petersburg; they built hotels, houses, and office buildings, opening real estate sales offices by the hundreds to accommodate new residents.

These men had names now identified with Florida counties and developments. They had names that are well known throughout the state: Hamilton Disston, Henry Morrison Flagler, Henry Bradley Plant, David Paul Davis, and Perry Snell. There were many other lesser known with names like Roscoe W. Parsley that had a significant impact on northeast St. Petersburg, as well as much of the Gulf Beaches along the Pinellas coastline.

Hamilton Disston was a financial wizard who saved the state of Florida from certain bankruptcy over a century ago. At the time, he was the nation’s largest landowner. When he decided to invest in Florida property, he eventually bought one-ninth of the total area of the state, that included most of the area that we call St. Petersburg, as well as vast holdings in Hillsborough, Polk, Orange, Highlands, Desoto and most of the area west of Lake Okeechobee.

The state of Florida faced the necessity of paying $1-million interest on railroad bonds that totaled $14-million, in the fifteen-year reconstruction period after the Civil War ended in 1865. If this interest amount defaulted, the alternative was bankruptcy and the loss of any possible credit. The state had only one asset that could be offered to someone who would give the state the $1-million. This was 20,000,000 acres of land, officially designated as "swamp and overflowed" land that had been acquired by Florida from the Federal Government in 1850. There was one little string attached: the "feds" required Florida to drain the land. Fortunately, there was no deadline indicated. In those thirty years there had been no takers because no one knew how much of the land was actually swampy or under water.

The name Disston is well known. Hamilton Disston had inherited the family tool-making business in Philadelphia, specializing in carpenter’s saws. Disston’s father, Henry, had developed a heat treatment method that enabled his saws to keep a sharp cutting edge longer than any of the competitors. By the time Hamilton was twenty-one years old, in 1865, his father renamed the business Disston and Sons.

The 1881 land purchase that saved Florida was innovative and ingenious — except it happened to be illegal. Disston and a group of investors from Philadelphia agreed to drain swamplands near Lake Okeechobee in return for half of the reclaimed land. However, the trustees of the land, who were actually the elected officials of the state of Florida, could not give the land to the Disston Group, because it was tied up in litigation by then. Creditors had filed suit in Federal Court. They had petitioned for an order that would force the trustees to sell the land in order to recover the $1-million interest being demanded.

Florida Governor William D. Bloxham decided to sell four million acres of this wilderness to Hamilton Disston for 25 cents an acre, thereby providing the state the $1-million needed to repay the creditors. It was the largest land purchase in United States history ever made by a private individual, with Disston eventually controlling "swamp and overflowed" land in 25 counties, stretching from Ocala to south of Lake Okeechobee.

Disston began to envision an empire in Florida served by water transportation — steamboats in the vast canals, rivers and lakes throughout the newly drained lands that he planned. Henry Flagler and Henry Plant envisioned other means of transportation — railroads. Plant and Flagler were proved right; Disston guessed wrongly. However, this took thirteen years before he realized how wrong was his vision.

As the drainage progressed, a 12,000 acre city along Boca Ciega Bay was established, named Disston City. It featured 100-foot wide streets with enough room for 50,000 inhabitants that were sought by Disston himself. These thousands of people never materialized. This community we know now along Boca Ciega bay is neither a port nor on the Gulf of Mexico, although it is called Gulfport. Some feel that this well-planned community served as the model for the larger city that developed in the late 1890s. That city is St. Petersburg, with its wide streets and logical grid-based layout.

Perry Snell began marketing the Bay Shore residential subdivision between Fifth and Thirteenth Avenues North in 1906. He sold twenty-one lots in the first three days. After World War I ended in 1918, Florida continued to be invaded by what we now call snowbirds. These new people flocking to St. Petersburg were flush with money from the postwar boom, all of them looking for a new home in the sun. Developers began arriving who were more than happy to accommodate them.

One of these visionaries, identified as Roscoe W. Parsley, first appears in the St. Petersburg City directory in 1927. By 1935, his real estate firm, Parsley and Stone, was running an advertisement in the directory, that became a half-page ad by 1940 and a full-page advertisement for several years through 1960. [PIC of ADVERTISEMENT]

He and his firm developed properties throughout the northeast area of St. Petersburg and on the Pinellas Gulf Beaches, using a branch office in Madiera Beach. The 1940 directory lists his home on North Shore Drive, shown in a current photo. [NEW PIC]

An obituary published in the St. Petersburg Times on December 2, 1970 notes:
W. Roscoe Parsley, Sr. Mr. Parsley was a native of Plant City, Florida and came to St. Petersburg from Tampa in 1926. He organized his first Realty firm in 1927 and became one of the first developers to dredge on the Gulf Beaches. He built Parsley Trailer Park and Parsley Motel. His other developments include Gulf Shores and Harbor Shores also on the Gulf Beaches, Lake Shore Estates on Lake Tarpon, River Village on the Anclote River and Sportsman Park and Apache Shores in Apopka. At the time of his death in December 1970, he lived at 1416 North Shore Drive, St. Petersburg. He was survived by his wife Vivian, their three sons and two daughters.
Today, his grandsons continue in the same tradition. Ed Parsley and Tom Parsley head up the Parsley Development, Inc., building and remodeling luxurious upscale homes throughout the area and extending development operations throughout the bay area, and into central Florida.

Their website is www.parsleydevelopment.com


Background information sources: St. Petersburg Museum of History, Will Michaels director and Ann Louise Wikoff archivist; Florida’s Promoters, Charles E. Harner, Trend House, Tampa, 1973.

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