University of South Florida University of South Florida

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FORUM : the Magazine of the Florida Humanities Florida Humanities

1-1-2005

Forum : Vol. 29, No. 01 (Winter : 2005) Forum : Vol. 29, No. 01 (Winter : 2005)

Florida Humanities Council.

Bill Belleville

Mark Jerome Walters

Thomas Hallock

Mary Mulhern

See next page for additional authors

Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarcommons.usf.edu/forum_magazine

Recommended Citation Recommended Citation Florida Humanities Council.; Belleville, Bill; Walters, Mark Jerome; Hallock, Thomas; Mulhern, Mary; Moran, John; Meindl, Christopher F.; George, Paul S.; and Mormino, Gary Ross, "Forum : Vol. 29, No. 01 (Winter : 2005)" (2005). FORUM : the Magazine of the Florida Humanities. 39. https://scholarcommons.usf.edu/forum_magazine/39

This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the Florida Humanities at Scholar Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in FORUM : the Magazine of the Florida Humanities by an authorized administrator of Scholar Commons. For more information, please contact scholarcommons@usf.edu.

Authors Authors Florida Humanities Council., Bill Belleville, Mark Jerome Walters, Thomas Hallock, Mary Mulhern, John Moran, Christopher F. Meindl, Paul S. George, and Gary Ross Mormino

This article is available at Scholar Commons: https://scholarcommons.usf.edu/forum_magazine/39

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FLORIDA *HumanitiesCOUNCIL

IL’ploring the Florida Experience

BOARD OF DIRECTORS

FRANK BILLINGSLEY. Orlando

IAN CADDIE Winter Springs

JIM CLARK Orlando

DAVID COLBURN Gainesville

JACK CROCKER Fort Myers

KATHLEEN DEAGAN Gainesville Chair

NANCY DECKER Winter Park

[NA DIAl Miami

NANCY FETrERMAN Pensacola

JON FISHBANE Naplen

JEANNE GODWIN Pensacola

JUDY HALL Jacksonville Qtice-Chalr

CARY HARDER Madison

SUZAN HARRISON St. Petersburg

ROGER KAUFMAN Tallahassee

KEVIN KNUTSON Coral Springs

TODD KOCOUREK Tallahassee

KIM LONG Naples

LESLIE NORTHUP Miami

HOWARD PARDUE Tallahassee

CYNTHIA SAMANA St. Petersburg

HENRY THOMAS Jacksonville

ELLEN VINSON Pensacola

STAFF

JANINE FARVER Interim Director

SUSAN LOCKWOOD Director of Grants

ANN SCHOENACHER Director Florida Center for Teachers

LAURIE BERLIN Director of Administration

PATRICIA PUTMAN Development Officer

BRENDA OHARA Fiscai Officer

KAREN JACKSON Program & Fiscal Assistant

RENÉ RENO Program Assistant

BARBARA EAHR Development & Information Systems Assistant

BARBARA O’REILLEY FORUM Fditor

RUSS KRAMER FORUM Design & Production

FHC FORUM / Vol. XXIX, No. I, WINTER 2005

© 2005 FHC

The magazine of

THE FLORIDA HUMANITIES COUNCIL

599 Second Street South, St. Petersburg. FL 33701-5005

727 553-3801

Website address: wwwilahum.orgThe Florida Humanities Council is a nonprofitomganizatioI funded by the National Entwment For theHumanities, the state of Florida, and private Contributors.FHC FORUM is published four times a year and distributed to the friends of the Florida Humanities Council andinterested Floridians. If you wish to be added to the mailing list, please request so in writing. Views expressed by

LetterFROM THE INTERIM DIRECTOR

A FEW YEARS AGO, FHC funded and developed a wide range of programs and publications that asked Floridians to think about the idea of

home. We posed the question: How can we build a sense of Community in astate where two-thirds of the residents were born elsewhere?

I thought about those projects a lot as we planned this issue of FORUM,

because I remember the day I started down that complicated path to "mak

ing Florida home." Iwas on a river

Soon after I moved to Florida, some new acquaintances invited me to

canoe on the Hillsborough River. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest

where I had canoed on some of America’s most legendary rivers, Iwas a bitdisdainful. I admit now that I was also more than a little concerned aboutthe reptiles I knew inhabited the swampy rivers of the South.

But from the moment we launched our canoe onto the murky waters of

the Hilisborough and began navigating around spindly cypress knees andgiant oaks draped with Spanish moss, I was spellbound by this exotic place.I’m not sure if it was the ‘gators lying on the banks, or the roseate spoonbills

foraging along the shore, or the turtles sunning on the logs, but something

happened on the river that day that changed my relationship with Florida.

That "something" is difficult to describe. But our best nature writers are

able to capture these visceral experiences and translate them into words

that evoke both images and emotions. In Bill Belleville’s introductory article

in this issue of FORUM he describes an evening kayak trip:

Alone in the river darkness, I would breathe slowly and imagine

myself as nearly invisible. Wading birds would screech from the dense

riverine forest, fish would smack the surface to feed, and alligators

would begin their slow, patient survey of the dark primal water,

reclaiming the river as completely as the night itself Without the noiseof my clumsy modern ego to drown everything out, the river wouldregain its preeminence and grace, and when I had the courage to allowit, it would rise up to touch my soul.

Belleville’s article and the others in this issue of FORUM about Floridarivers attest to the powerful role that the humanities can play in helping usto ponder the more profound aspects of our relationship with nature.

Historians help us assess how our relationship with the environment has

changed over time. Ethicists ponder such questions as whether nature has

rights beyond its usefulness to humans. Writers create images of the life

around us and provide insights for us to mull over.

We hope that as you read through this issue of FORUM about Florida’srivers, you will consider some of these questions and in doing so come to a

better understanding of your relationship with this wondrous place.

contributors to the FORUM are not necessarily those ofthe Florida Humanities Council.

-Janine Farver

WiNTER 2005

4 Humanities Alive!News of the Florida Humanities Council

S Honoring Ancient Cultures

Noble WatersTo truly understandFlorida’s rivers, immerseyourselfintheir lore and poetry, their history and science, andintheir dark andspiritual waters.By Bill Belleville

12 Creation UnfoldingSehastionInlet was a place of connection fora sonand his father.By Mark Jerome Walters

16 Looking for the Hillsborough River

A professorand his students wonderhow to connect

Floridians with their rivers.

By Thomas Hallock

18 ‘It’s My River’Tampaartist Gladys ICashdin portrays theHillsborough

in all its glory.By Mary Mulhern

22 Hope for the Sacred RiverWill our culture learnto honor thesacred in nature?

By John Moran

Paradise Restored?Costly efforts are underwayto reclaim ‘Real Florida.’

By Christopher F. Meindl

From ancientto moderntimes, it has beena lifeline.

By Paul S. George

34 The Winds of ChangeAfter four major hurricanesin oneyear, the Florida

Dreamendures.By Gary Mormino

24

30 Miami River: Host to History

24

On the cover: The Santa Fe River in north-central Florida.

Photograph by Jeff Ripple

ANITIES

Florida Council

F or hundreds of years, visitors havemarveled at the charms of America’s‘Ancient City." Few tourists have

had the opportunity, however, to lookbeyond the souvenir shops of St. GeorgeStreet or the mythical Fountain of Youthof Ponce de Leon. But here’s an opportunity to join a scholar-led exploration-anin-depth look at the oldest city in theUnited States.

Stay at the historic Casa Monica Hotel,the former winter home of America’swealthiest vacationers, while you discoverthe history and heritage of St. Augustinewith several of Florida’s best scholars.

Pre-Gathering: The Fortsof St. Augustine / Fee: $60

Friday, May 6: 10 a.m.-3 p.m.Join historian Susan Parker for an on-

site visit to three forts of St. Augustine-Castillo de San Marcos, Fort Mose, andFort Matanzas, with lunch at the ConchHouse.

The Gathering / Fee: $260 for FHCMembers, $310 for Non-Members

Friday, May 6: 5:30-9:30 p.m.* Dinner and Evening Program

Saturday, May 7: 9 a.m.-9 p.m.* Spend the day visiting the historic

and architectural treasures of St.Augustine with Florida scholars. Take aboat tour with lunch at a waterfront café.Dine at the historic Markland Mansionwith after-dinner entertainment by CarrieJohnson, the "Voice of Lincolnville."

Sunday May 8: 9 am-noon* Explore the civil rights era of St.

Augustine and tour the Lincolnville neighborhood.

For more details and registration information, please visit our website www.flahum. org and click on the link for TheGathering; or contact Monica Rowlandmrowland@fiahum.org or call 727553-3803.

WDNA 88.9 FM MIAMIWFSU/WFSW 88.9 FM TALLAHASSEE, PANAMA

Cl1% MARIANNA

WGCU 91.7 FM FORT MYERSWJCT 89.9 FM JACKSONVILLEWKGC 90.1 FM PANAMA CITY

WKLN 1170 AM SAINT AUGUSTINEWMFE 90.7 FM ORLANDOWMNF 88.5 FM TAMPNST. PETERSBURGWQCS 88.9 FM FORT PIERCEWUFT 89 FM GAINESVILLEWUWF 88.1 FM PENSACOLAWWUS 104.1 FM KEY WEST

‘Exploring the State of the Future’is New FHC Initiative

Florida is described as a "microcosm ofthe nation," a "bellwether state," and‘the America of tomorrow." It is a statethat has experienced profound changes-demographic, technological, environmental, social, and cultural-since World WarII. FHC’s new grant initiative asks grantseekers to explore these changes andtheir effects on the people, the communities, and the landscape of our state.

For more information onthis new initiative and on howto apply for FHC grants, visitour website at flahum.org

FBC Awarded‘Landmark ofAmericanHistory’ Grant

The NationalEndowment for theHumanities NEHawarded a $259,000grant to FHC to conduct teacher seminarsin St. Augustine. Thefour consecutive,weeklong seminarsentitled, "Between

Columbus and Jamestown: Spanish St.Augustine," will be held on the campus ofFlagler College during the summer of2005. More than 200 teachers fromFlorida and across the country will attendthese seminars, which will offer intensivestudy and discussion of the Spanish colonial experience and its impact onAmerican history.

For more information see our websiteat StAugustine@flahum.org.

Scholarson the Road

Fl-IC’s Road Scholars program is continuing to accept applications from

organizations interested in hosting oneof our humanities scholars. Road

Scholars speak on a wide variety ofFlorida-related subjects. Our"Chautauqua" scholars presentlively in-character presentations ofhistorical figures.

If you would like to be put onour Road Scholars mailing list,

please send an email torreno@flahum.org. To

see a list of our currentspeakers log on to our

website atflahum.org.

Bob Devin Jones as LangstonHughes, psrt of FHC’s Roads

HUM

Ste Augustine, May 6-8. 2005

Humanities on the Radio

Lively, informative programs about Florida s history and culture can be heardon radio stations across the state. The programs, produced by FHC, are aired bythe stations below and on our website at www.flahum.org.

4 FORUM FLORIDAMurtANITIESCOuNCIL WINTER200S Scholars program.

Comings and Goings...

Honoring Ancient Cultures

few yearsago,agroup of archaeologicalenthusiastsbandedtogetherto promote

ublic awarenessof the rich historyandlegacyof Florida’s earlyinhabitants.The group,wilich calleditself Trail of the Lost Tribes,Inc., felt that many Floridiansandmillions of touristswerevirtually unawareofthe state’sancientIndian archaeologicalsitesand scatteredhistoricalmuseums.

In 2002, with agrant from FHC andwithhelpfrom then-StateArchaeologistJimMiller, the groupdevelopedandhostedaseriesof talks by Florida’s leadingarchaeologists.More than 3,000 peopleattended thesepresentationsat archaeological sitesaroundthe state,hearinginsightsand learningaboutresearchonthe ancientcultureswho originally inhabited the state’sGulf Coast,

In that year,the organizationalsodistrthutedmorethan25.000brochuresabout theTrail network at the sitesand athotelsandtourist bureaus.In 2003-2004,morethan55,000updatedbrochuresweredistributedacrossthe stateat VISIT FLORIDA welcomestations.This effort hassignificantly increasedawarenessandvisitation to all of the Trail sites.

"Our goal is to honorFlorida’s original nativepeoples,who thrived for 12,000 yearsbeforebeing lostto warfareand diseasefollowing Europeancontact,"said Marty Ardren,oneof the group’sfounders.

The T1ail’s 2005 speakerseries,entitled "StoriesBuried in the Ground:How ArchaeologyStrengthensflorida’s Communities,"will include six programsfeaturingdistinguishedarchaeologistsat sitesacrossthe state.Here is the schedule:

* February12 at WeedonIslandCulturalandNaturalHistory Center,St. Petersburg:RobertJ.Austin will speakabout"MultidisciplinaryInvestigationsat West Williams, An Archaic Site inHillsboroughCounty." His talks, sponsoredby theTampaBay History Center.areslatedfor 11 a.m.and 3 p.m.

* March 5 at the ScienceCenterof PinellasCounty. St. Petersburg:Glen Doranwill discuss"Windover: Multidisciplinary Investigationsof an

EarlyArchaic FloridaCemetery-AnUpdate." Thesetalks arescheduledfor U a.m.and 2 p.m.

* April 23 at the Mound House,Fort Myers Beach:CorbettTorrencewill present "CaloosahatcheeLandscapes;An ArchitecturalAnalysis of CoastalMound Sitesin SouthwestFlorida." This program

will featureguided tours of MoundKey in EsteroBay.The timesfor this andfor thepresentationslater inthe yearwill beannounced,

* July 28 at Brooksville City CouncilChambers.Brooksville: Lori D. Collins will discuss‘Prehistoricand Historic Trails acrossthe Big Hammock:UsingGeographicalInformation SystemsGIS to ExplorePascoandHernandoCounties,"

* August 13 at the Seminole ThbeHardRockHotel, Hollywood, apanelof threewill speak:TinaMarie Osceola.executivedirector of AH-TAE-THI-RIMuseum,will discusshow the Tribal HistoricPreservationOffice THPO andarchaeologyfit intothe missionof the SeminoleTribe of Florida; AnneMcCuddenwill discuss‘Rrchaeologyof the Brightonand Big CypressSeminoleReservations";andW,S,Bill Steelewill discuss"Functionsof the TribalHistoric PreservationOffice."

* October14 at the florida Museumof NaturalHistory; Gainesville:Judith Bensewill present"SpanishColonial Presidiosin WestFlorida: HoldingFlorida’s WesternBorderin the 18th Century;"

Roger Block portrays a 1bcabtga lnd,an village shaman dunng the taiISpeaker Senes at the Science Center of Pinellas County

WINTER 2005 FioRioAHur-tANrnEscouuclL FORUM S

- -

,-;

iç

..A

NOBLE WATERSA river sings a holysong conveyingthe

mysterioustruth that we are a river.. .An

enchantedlife demandsan appreciationof

this flow.- Thomas Moore

That night we cameto a very wide,

very deepand swift river, which we did

not dare cross on rafts... A horseman

namedJuanVeldzquez, nativeof Cue’llar,

enteredthe river without waiting, and theswift current knockedhim off his horse,

but he held on to the reins, and both he

and thehorsedrowned.

-Alvar NunezCabezade Vaca,on gettinglost in Florida in 1528

Jwas paddling through the treetops of a Florida rivet theotherday, soaringthroughthe foliagecanopylike a giant bird.Heavylimbs of ancientlive oaks wereflopping lazily in the currentas

if they were metronomeskeeping timeto the river’s pulse.The gunnelsof mykayakcamewithin a few feet of a tattered blue-jay neststill cradled in abranch. Other limbs bristled with thespiky leavesof pine bromeliads, andoncewith a green fly orchid, all justinches above thewater.

The river was the Econlockhatchee,and a series of tropical storms hadfilled its valley of paleo-dunes tooverflowing. A monthearlier, it hadbeenashallow sandy-bottomed blackwaterstream that you could have walkedacross.A year before, rainhad beensosparsethat it stopped flowing,and it

was less a river and morea seriesofnarrow sloughs. But now it was highand raging, full of eddies and littlestandingwaves.

Like everythingelse in Florida, ourrivets resemblefew others back on thecontinent.Indeed, invariousstagesofour wet-dry seasons, theydon’t evenresemble themselves.Gravity makesthem work, of course, but it’s a dis

tinctly Florida-driven gravity thatpusheswater acrossbarelyperceptiblegradients on the landscape.Its sourceis not glaciers or snowmelt of themountains,but thesuperheatedhydrological cycle of our water-boundpeninsula. The liquid driving ourrivers falls from the sky in extraordinary amounts.Then, it either gathersup into swampsandmarshes,or seepsdownward into thesoft limerockof ourcrust. Great wetlands like the GreenSwampbrim andoverflow, driving ourrivers outward from it. Or the bone-white karstunderfootdoes likewise,its

surface by the unseen alchemy ofhydrostaticpressurefrom the uplands.

Writers and poets Harriet BeecherStowe, William Bartram, SidneyLanier havevariously consideredourrivets wild, noble, or,given the rightmood, indolent.Attists havedelightedin them, featuring themthematicallyin landscape paintings WilliamMorris Hunt, Winslow Homer,Herman Herzog. Musicians havebeennotoriouslymixed on the subject.The most famous river the

Suwanneewas celebratedby a songwtiter StephenFoster who neversawit. Yet arguablythe most sublime composition Florida Suite about aFlorida river the St. Johnshad thevery legitimate franchise of beingromanticizedby a composerFrederickDelius who lived on its banks andtruly fell in love with it.

Rivers have influenced wherehumans settled in Florida, and howtheir cultures were molded over centuries.The bountyof flowing rivers fed

N

own undergroundtivers pushed to the

B FORUM FLORIDAHuMANITIESCOUNOL WINTER 2

their imagtnations aswell as their appetites.Someof the earliestpottery in North Americawas created on the banksof the St. Johns, Artisticskills there and elsewhere transformedwood

into eagles, owls, otters. Dugouts,carved first from longleaf and thenfrom cypress, became artwith great

utility.Industrious Americansenlarged on

the notion of river transportation,adding steam boilers and paddle-wheels. Both ornate and serviceable,the baroque steamboats toured nearlyevery river deep enough to floatthem,regardlessof how torturous themean-

ders. "Landings" for the steamboatsemergedwhere there were only feralwoods, drawing turpentiners,timber’men, planters, and early touristpromoters to them.

When the steamboatsgave wayto

railroads, the practical use of rivers

waned; settlements created by boattraffic often dissolved into the detritusof the swamp: St. Francis, SuwanneeSprings, Ellaville. But, this was notalways true and,every now and thenthose settlementsmorphedinto modern cities,like Jacksonville. Atothertimes, they remained modest andpleasantly retro, like Welaka andWhite Springs.

Florida rivers are predictableonly intheir uncertainty.The Econ is like the

Suwannee inthat it trickles from aswamp, coursesthrougha distinct valley, and dramatically rises and falls

with the season. But the Suwannee,like many Florida rivers, is fed bysprings, and the Econis not. Otherrivers, like the Hillsborough,are augmentedboth by springsandby groundwater seepingup through fractures inits bed. Somerivers are in fact longspring runs-like the lchetucknee,Alexander, Juniper,Silver, and theWekiva. But even then,many of theseruns are fed seasonallyby rainfall leaking out of their tannic swamps.In wetsummers,the Wekiva is tea-colored; indry winters, it is spring-clearagain.

Somerivers, like the Chathamandthe Lopez in the western Glades and

WINTER 2005 FLORIDAHUMANITIESCOUNCIL FORUM 9

the NassauaboveJacksonville,are so

tidal that they arepushedless by grav

ity thanby the moonand thesea. And

a few rivers arenot truly rivers at all-for instance, the Indian River is abrackish lagoonthat does not flow,except when drivenby wind. MarjorieStonemanDouglascalled thesawgrass

prairie that is the Evergladesa "River

of Grass"becauseits waters do move,

although one has to stand init for a

long time to realizeit.

We havemorethan50,000non-linear miles of rivers in Florida, which aremoreor less divided into 1,400named

bodiesof flowing water.The processof

naminga river seemsless to do with itssize than the opinion of the cartographer who got therefirst. We haveno"brooks" mapped in Florida, but wehave "creeks," which are somewhat

similar. And we have "dead rivers,"

which lead into aquaticcul de sacs,ending navigationally butnot biologically. We don’t have"bayous,"but wehave"sloughs," which are usuallydeepunmovingpatchesof swamp.That is,until the wet season,and then theybecome a dynamic part of the riveronceagain.

he proper namesof riversare like the waterwaysthemselves. They are

snapshots in time,changingcourse in thesemanticlandscape,not

unlike a channelthatwill reconfigureitself through its floodplain. In this

way, our most historic riverwas variouslyknown as Welaka in Creeklanguage;Mai French;Rio Corrientes,San Mateo, and San JuanSpanish;and, for now, it is the St. Johns.Fottunately, an unusuallylarge number of river namesfirst invented byearly Creeksstill endure in Florida.More often than not, they describefeaturesor animals rather than praising someEuropeandeedor conqueror:

Withlacoochee Small River,OklawahaMuddy, SopchoppyOak

Tree, LoxahatcheeTurtle Stream,ChassahowitzkaHangingor OpeningPumpkin, Echashotee Home of

Manateeor Beaver,Pithlachascotee

ChoppedBoat. Saying those namesout loud sometimesrestoreslife to thetraditional myth of the river, if only for

a little while.If some nameshavemorphedover

time, the official lengthsof rivers have

alsobeenalteredas new information is

revealed. But this is problematic:Mistakes are so often repeatedthatthey have become fact. Almost allalmanacs consider the 245-mile-longSuwannee thelongest river whenitscourse out of Georgia’s OkefenokeeSwamp is considered.Yet the Sr.

Johns,which is 280 miles from its nav

igational headwatersat Lake Hell ‘nBlazes, is longer by at least 30 miles,

and its entire length lies withinFlorida’s boundaries.When its head’waters are factored in, the St. Johnsbecomesat least60 miles longer.

Certainly, figuring the size of a riveris tricky businessall by itself. For official purposes,the "mainstem"or main

channelof a river is usuallyconsidered

channel,their actions trickledown toit through its watershed.Indeed,their

predecessorsmay have chosen their

geographichomes becauseof its loca

tion in the schemeof all things. In astate as wet as Florida, it was alwayswise to know exactly what was

upstream.The promiseof modem"water man

agement"seducesus into thinking theflow of our rivers will always be protected. Meanwhile, affluent, thitsty

regions scheme to commandeer

springsand riverwater-andwe refuseto allow growth tobe linked to water

availability. Managed by politics

insteadof ecology, our rivers diminish.

Yet, our state’saquaticassetscontinue to be promoted in the nameofnature tourism. This dilemma seems

althov

10 FORUM FLDRIDAHUMANITIES COUNCIL WINTER 2005

WATERS

the bestexample ofnegativecapability-of being able to hold two diametrically opposedideas in your headatone time andstill function.

Confused?Sowas I, for a long time.At some point, I decided to forsakelogic-sinceit wasn’t gettingme any-

become moreintimateLe hope that thiswould‘ay of understanding.I

rivers to my chest toflyin them, paddle overand dive under them,their shores. I wouldrn with friends, espeing to open themselvesand quirks and gloriesirits. I would read ofion books and novels,ms, and scientificdelight whenI foundtraceda meanderor

ranch that no longer

would go out ona river

alone, shouldering my kayak to theedgeof thewater at the ocher light justbefore dusk, and paddleuntil it waswell after dark. Dipping my paddlesparingly to steer, I would drift downstream with theslight current, notunlike a patch of floating hyacinths.

Alone in the river darkness,I wouldbreatheslowly and imagine myself asnearly invisible. Wading birds wouldscreechfrom the denseriverine forest,fish would smack the surface to feed,and alligators would begin their slowpatientsurveyof the darkprimal water,reclaiming the riveras completelyasthe night itself. Without the noise ofmy clumsymodernego to drowneverything out, the river would regain itspreeminenceand grace; and when Ihad thecourageto allow it, it wouldrise up to touch my soul. If I was luckyI could reacha singularplace nurturedby the full emotionalsway of bliss, ofrespect, of fear. It was an experiencebeyondthe safeguardof intellect.

Once,after spendingyears aroundariver, I wrote a book about it. In doingso, I talked to scientists and riverdwellers and read everything I couldfind on the subject, from researchpapers to poetry. Even then, I couldnotcaptureit fully; for to write aboutariver is not unlike sculptingclay that isnever put into a kiln. It’s malleable,somethingthat is remolded overtime.If we expectit to stay put, we are badlymistaken;for rivers-eventhosebulk-headed andchanneled-tendto breakloose every once in a while. Secrets,hiddenwell, slowly reveal themselves,like totemsin thebenthic mud. Rivershavea mystic quality to them,a way ofhelping us remember somethingwethoughtwe had forgotten.

The processof appreciatingFloridarivers has nothing whatsoeverto dowith ownership or territoriality. Tolove a river enough to want to writeabout it, paint an imageof it, or composea song toit is to havethe capacity to atoncehold tight to it-and, justas completely, to letit go.

BILL BELLEVILLE is an award-winning author anddocumentaryfilmmaker

who specializesin environmentalissues.

He lives in Sanford.

WINTER 2005 FLORIDAHUMANI11ESCOUNCIL FORUM II

Thereis a place wherea wide river flows fromevcning’s horizon into anoceanof darkness.I seeandhearit still: the soft seiche ofintertide andsandflatswanderingthroughwhispering light towardthe edge ofmy known world.

SebastianInlet, Florida, I believedas a child, was the site ofGenesis.There,mighty winds andwatersgathered,and moonlight ruled night; watersteemedwith countless creatures;andegrets,ibises, and heronsflew beneaththe vault of heaven.There,God createdsea-monstersin theform of sharks. "Thuswere heavenandearthcompletedwith all their mighty throng!"my father would proclaim, raising his fishing rodlike a staff,then lowering hisalcohol-ladenvoice to a whisper: ‘And onthe sixth day, Godsaid, ‘Let there be manatees." And therethey were,floating like bloatedwineskinsalongthe shore.

So it was, some years beforeI was horn, that creationhadunfoldedat SebastianInlet, where the Indian River breachedtheharrier island that separatedit from theAtlantic andspilledinto the oceanwith ferocityor grace,dependingupon theforceof the tide.

SebastianInlet was the edge ofmy known world becauseitwas as far southas I hadever traveledas a child, in our01d station wagon, with fishing rods bangingandjutting from the rearwindowandthe aroma ofthe week-old, shrimpishanimalsweusedfor bait wafting up from the coffee can wedgedbetweenmyknees in the backseat.

"Now, snook," my fatherwould explain, looking in the rear-view mirror as we bouncedalongthe narrow,palmetto-and-sand-shoulderedasphaltroad todayknown as AlA, "ate scaredof deepwater, andthey spookeasily." As he spoke, he’d lift his

-

FtCIOA STAa ARCH,va --

chin, collapse hislips and raisehis eyebrowsas if to imitate thesnook’s goofy grin.

"But the redsnapper"-he’dlet his eyelids andshouldersdroop like the woebegonesnapper-likeswarm waterandpiers." And on he would go through his impersonationsofflounder, bluefish, mackerel,redfish, anddrum.

One night as I reeledmy treble hook to shore, agreatblast ofwaterexplodedbefore measmy line went taut.Therewas greatcommotion,andmy fathertushedoverwith his lantern, peeredinto the water, andproclaimed,"You’ve snagged adamnseacow!"

My rod bowedandreleasedlike a leather whip. I was in teats.My fatherquickly cut the line with hispocketknife.To harmaseacow was theessence of evil.I beggedmy fatherto tell nooneof my deed. Heneverdid. But the image ofthe flailingmanateefollowed me foryears, and I would foreverwhisperguilt andapologyacrossthe waters.

When I was 5 andsandy-haired,my fathertold methat theIndian River was a tributaryof theNile-one of his manyembellishedstories.He would point to the occasionalalligator-he called themNilc crocodiles-asproof. When I was 6,he said that the headwaterof the Indian was the Missouri, orBig Muddy. He pointed to the muddy outgoingcurrentto proveit. And whenI was 7, brown-eyedandsure,my father told methe truth: The Indian River wasn’tconnectedto the Nile otMissouri. In fact, the Indian wasn’t a river atall-just a deadwater lagoonrunninga hundredmiles alongthe eastcoastofFlorida. Lacking major tributaryor headwater,the lagoon wasfilled andemptiedby the oceantide. Nor was Sebastian Inletthe site ofGenesis.But it was, I knew, the site of wondrouscre

CREATION UNFOLDIN

ation, and thatwas what mattered.By then, the Indian River and its oceanoutlet had

becomethe waters ofmy dreams. Atdusk, a time when weoftenfished, the sun would poutmolten ore into the river;andcicadas wouldsing their sandpaperchorusto the pinksky. Flocksof greenparrots,feathersmetallicin subtropicallight, would bolt over the inlet from thenearbywoodlandsof dreamysable palmsandarmadillos.After darknessfell,we sometimes stood, fishingrods in hand, andwatchedshootingstars.

"A man’s life," my fatherwould utter in despair,followingthe meteoralongits path of evanescentglory into nothingness.

Mostly we fishedup nearthe river where a small covehadbeensculptedout of the sandy shore. Fromthere,on hotsummernights we could see,shimmeringthroughthehumidity, the palelights of Sebastiantown on the distantriver shore,wheremy fatherhadgrown up. As he andIfished, hedidn’t usually take to dramaticstory telling.Rather,tales of his life and ofthe inlet slowly leakedout ofhim like an oldgaspipe unableto withstandthe constantpressure.He said that whenhe was a boy duringtheDepression, his familyhadmoved from ruralWashingtonCounty,Georgia, to Sebastianwheretherewas the prospectof work. His father, amechanic, cameto own a garagewherehe repairedthe first generationof automobilesintown. My father, highlyself-educated,workedat manyjobsashe grew up-gasstation attendant,tomato farmer, andfisherman.

If placeis crucial in relationships,Sebastian Inletwasindispensableto ours. What I knew then was that Sebastianwaspart of my father’s life. ‘What I knownow is that,throughmy experienceand his stories,Sebastian Inletbecamepart of mine. As Istoodin thewake of his wordsandimagesbackthen,his pastseemedto swirl aboutmyankleslike seawater. As apart of the placehe loved, Ibecame apart of his life. Without this place,ourexchangedwords might wellhavebeenvaporsfrom different galaxies.And so it is, oneway or another,with all humanrelationships.We areconnectedby the groundwe share.

lithe flounder weren’t striking on the sand flats,sometimeswe’d packup and wanderby lanternlight down to theinlet’s mouth, whereIndianRiver emptiedinto theAtlantic. At outgoing tide atnight, this wasa terrifyingplaceof wind andblack water. Sometimesmy father andIventuredfat out onto the rockjetties slick with algaeandcoveredwith razor-edgedbarnaclesandwhere blackswellsroseto swallow him up to his knees.

"Therearesharkshere," hewould wam, motioningmehigheron therocks as he gestutedwithout bemusementtowardthe inlet with the tip of his fishingrod. "Maneaters."

"Child eaters?""Yes, thosetoo."A greatwhite sharkas long andwide as our station

wagon,he said,cameto SebastianInlet oncea year, usuallyin winter, andit cruisedjust below thesurfacealongone

If place is crucial inrelationships,SebastianInlet wasindispensableto ours.What I knew then wasthat Sebastianwaspart of my father’s life.

Theautho?sfather.Linwood Walters, surffishingoppositepageandin aphotofrom the 4Os above.

breakwater,up toward the river, then reversedcourseandretumedto openocean.It seemeda story without a moral-just an image,this projectileof cartilageand muscle,left tomaraudthroughachild’s imagination.Looking hack,I seeitwashis wayof warning me fromthe breakwater’sedge.Hisstories toldall.

For whatevermyths ultimately fell, I would believe intoadulthoodthat Sebastian Inlethad, forall practicalpurposes, existed sincethe beginningof time. Only yearslater didI learnthat stormsonly periodicallyopenedit up. In 1924engineerscut a "permanent"channelandbuilt coquina-rockjettieshundredsof feet seawardto deflect current-drivensandandkeepthe breechopenfor fishermenwho desiredan outlet from the IndianRivet to the ocean.But the sand-ladencurrentssimply wrappedaroundthe ends ofthe jettiesandformedashallow, non-navigabledelta. A massive1,500feet long wall was then builton oneside to keepthe inletopen.But the channelmigratedseveralhundredfeet north.In 1939, a largepipe-linedredgeremovedmassesof sandtodeepenthe sluice.

14 FORUM FLORIDAHUMANITIESCOUNOL WINTER 2005

The inlet morphedclosedagain in 1942-thistime for thebetter,manypeoplefelt, because thiswould keepout theGermansubmarinesthat were prowling neatthe coast.Afterthe war, engineersblastedyet another channelbetweentheexistingjetties.But the yawningchannelclosed againwithina few hours. Five yearslater the inlet was reopenedbut wasclosedwithin five monthsby a storm. Moreblastingandextensive dredgingensued,only to he followedby the formation of shoals that blockedthe entrance.In 1950, anothermassivechannelwas cur. The river mouth closedagainbythe endof thatyear.

What man intended,nature rescinded.Thenmy father, Linwood Josey Walters, arrived.In 1955, heandhis businesspartner,working asthe

WaltersandHayesConstructionCompany, receiveda$25,000 statecontractto widen, heighten,andlengthen theexistingjetties.The channelneverclosed again.Whereothers hadfailed, my fatherhadbeatenbacknaturefor good-somethingfor which he was etemallyproud. Hehadalwaysexperiencedremorse and guilt,my motheronceconfided,forhavingremainedin Florida during WorldWar II, buildingairfields, while othersfrom his town hadbeenwoundedordied in battle. SebastianInlet becamehis private, compensatory battle-againstnature.

As a child, I walkedaroundthe inlet with him as men inT-shirtsfishedfrom the very bouldersthat he hadlaid down.He would make smalltalk as aproprietormight mingle withguestsat an inn.My fathermust havesecretlybelievedthatany fishermanwho evercaughtafish off his jetties owed themeal to him.

Then,SebastianInlet mote or less vanishedfrom my life.No one ever satisfactorilyexplainedto mewhy we movedaway. My motheronly said sheloathed the long nights ofmyfatherwanderinghalf-drunkalongthe jettiesor in the surfuntil sunrise litthe tip of his woodenrod. And so we moved

andsettled,randomly,or so it seemedto methen,in adistant place. NowI believethatmy father, having beenexiledfrom Florida,was drawnby geneticmemorybackto theland of hisancestorsin the Carolinamountains.

He resettledour family there, in mountain shadows,far from saltair. With hisfishing rods laidto rest up in the garagetafters, he now tookto endlesslywanderingthe hollows andbackwoods,returninghomewith the same sadbreathto sometimes set inmy palm flint arrowheadshehadunearthedthat day. Although weoccasionallyreturnedto fish the magicalwaters ofSebastian,he nevergot overleaving the place.

He spoke ofthe inlet with bitterness,asif the baremention activatedan old stingerbusiedin his heart. I didn’t understandbackthen,but now I take thatas an earlylessonin how darkwatersometimesseepsinto the spaces leftby loss.

TodaySebastian Inletis abeautifulstatepark-oneof thefew landscapesI knewas a child that todayexists mostlyunchanged.True, aparabolichighway arcsabovethe inletwith almost spiritualsymmetry.Railed cementcatwalksforfishermenhang overthe waterfrom underneathboth ends ofthe bridge. A long pier now coversthe treacherousjettieswherewe fished. Otherwise, the river still flows, andthe landlies muchas it did.

I should be happy.Yet it is as if, having left therelong ago, I watch from afar

as newgenerationsof fishermenlay their stories acrossthelandscapelike layers0f rich humus.The placeandtime myfather and I knewhavejoined thoseof theother passersby-civilizations, families, andindividualsalike-beneaththestrataof story, myth, anddream.The placeseems almostempty to me now.

If my fatherwere still alive andhe could find the words, hewould probablysay that whatremainsthereare roots ofbitterness.Or he might havequoted,in his bottle-edgebreath,somedark Biblical passage like"May no starshineour in itstwilight; may it wait for a dawnthat nevercomes,nor everseethe eyelidsof the morning." Far me, memory comes mere-ly as longing andas an incessantvoice rising fromthe waters.

May the moon forevershineand the stars forever fallaboveSebastian.May the watersflow for children to fishwheremantarays movethroughmystical light andseacowsfloat like giant sausagesin seagrass.May my children knowwhat I rememberof whatmy father remembered,andhisbefore him.Then,may a greatstorm closeSebastianInlet’smouth for good. Make it shut its trap forever. Make it stopcalling to me.

MARK JEROMEWALTERS is an associarejyrofessor in theDepartment of Journalismand Media Studiesat the University ofSouthFlorida St. Petersburg

WINTER 2005 FLORIDAHLJHANtI1EScOUNCIL FORUM IS

I

__ ___

RIVOrBy ThomasHallock

e began our

exploration

of the

Hilisborough

River in

sevencanoes and onelonekayak,

just north of Tampa.There, theriver

is still a pristineexampleof a black-

waterstream,as it is for some50

milesnorth to the GreenSwamp,

whereit originates.A strongcurrent

pulled usdownstreamand,at each

bend, the river openedinto a vast

floodplain, a watery maze. Welin

geredundera cathedralof cypress

andsweet gum,mapleand tupelo,

and thencontinued on down the

.ooldngfor the

I

Photographsby Gladys Kashdin

16 FORUM FLORJDAHUMANITIESCOUNCIL WINTER 2005

WINTER 2005 FLORIDA HUMANITIES cOUNOL FORUM Il

I1[[QiTt1tiTI [Looking for the -‘ illLR1k I

river, ducking undet downed trees and dodging cobwebs.Buzzardsand ibis swarmed aboveus, and a swallowtail kitelacedthe thermalsabove them. A beltedkingfisher dartedfrom shore to shore.Lurking below the black, mirrored surfacewasan eight-footgatorthat disappearedunderourcanoe.We were almost in Tampa, hutthe city felt far away.

Some weeks later, my studentsand I returned to theHillshoroughto exploreits lasthalf-dozenmiles,which snakethroughthe heartof Tampa. Aswe paddledthroughthecity,the bird life disappeared-other thana few terns. The onlyother flying objects were ahelicopter anda Marlboro butttossedby a motorist from the Hillsborough Avenuebridge.Ironically, in this most-populatedstretchof the river, thereweren’t any people,eithet No onepaddling,besidesus. N0onepicnicking alongthe banks. Itbecameobviousthat theriverhadbecomeaneglectedcasualty oftheurban grid.It wasnearly invisible, andalmost inaccessible,to the generalpublic. We passedfenced-offbanks and dead-endstreets.Therewere waterfront parks, hut thesewere poorly matked.Thepeoplewith accesswere the riversidepropertyowners.Theyhad it all to themselves.

This disappearanceof the l-Iillshoroughraisedthe issue thatbecame amajor concernin thecourse Iwas teachingfor theFlorida Studies Program attheUniversity of SouthFlorida St.Petersburg:Thereis a tenuousconnectionbetweenFloridiansandtheir rivets.

River

RIVER’For artist Gladys Kashdin,

the Hilisborough is home and

inspiration. She captures its

greenand muddy mysteries

in her glorious works of art.

The class consideredthese questionsas we explored theLittle Manatee, the Ocklawaha,BlackwaterCreek, and theKissimmee-in addition to the HilEsborough.The students,troopersall, trudgedthrougha rigorousreadinglist of Floridaenvironmental history and literature. We dipped intoBartram’s Travels, Sidney Laniet’s bizarre guideto rivers andrails, andworks by Marjory StonemanDouglasand HarrietBeecher Stowe. Welistenedto Delius and Mofro and readabout Winslow Homer and the Homosassa.The class alsobenefitedfrom guestlecturesby a geographerand a fluvialgeomorphologistonewho studies changesin rivers.

During ourpaddleof theurbanHillsborough,we alsoheardfrom TampaMayor Pan Iorio. Shewas one of afew guestswhoaccompaniedus on this trip. lorio told us about her plan forreviving the river. She envisions a downtown tiverwalk, anurban pedestriancorridor that connects Channelsideon thebay with the art museumandperforming arts center,then

‘IT’SMY

1

Nature writer Bill Belleville, who offeredpointers to mystudentsand me as we read about, discussed,and exploredrivers last fall, raisedthe sameissue in his book aboutthe St.Johns,River of Lakes. His themes becameour own: How d0you connectpeopleto a place? Howcan you get peopletocareaboutwhattheyrarely see?Can we bringriversback into

By Mary Muihern

a

lB FORUM FLORIDAHUNIANITTEScQUNcIL WINTER 2005

-/

crossesthe interstateto Waterworks Park. Former mayorshavefloatedsimilar ideas,and lorio’s will need$23 millionin private funds, but shewants to make it real. She insiststhat a focal point for the city will bring activity andcommerce-shopsand food, touristsand yuppies-toTampa’stomb of adowntown.

My class,mostly history majorsandnearlyall local, lovedthe idea. lorio who has amaster’s in history, herself hopesto reverse a badrelationshipbetweenthe city andits river.By theend of the first industrial boom in rhe early 20th century, Tampahad turnedits back on the Hillshorough. "Ourriver," opinedaneditorial in the 1912 TampaDaily Times,"isbut a little one, but it causesa whole lot 0f trouble andvexation andexpense."It was aworkingriver then,pollutedandeasyto neglectfor its beautyor environmentalhealth. Guidehooks from that time describea string of factoriesturningout everything from broomsticks to patentmedicines,soft

Inding through the verdantNorth Tampa neighborhood ofTemple Terrace, where theSpanish moss drips from mature

oaks, one hears whispers of the wet andgreen Florida of the past. At every turn of theasphalt streets, you might glimpse a flash ofthe river that runs through it, or imagine youhear the lyric from a spiritual: "Take me tothe river, wash me down."

Along one of these streets sits a neat ranchhouse on a generous, shaded lot, amid a garden of contained indigenous flora. This is thehome and studio of artist Gladys ShafranKashdin, Professor Emerita of Humanities atthe University of South Florida. She has livedhere, in the environs of the HillsboroughRiver, for 36 years.

For Kashdin, whose love of nature hasinspired a lifetime of paintings, collages, anddrawings, the river that flows through herneighborhood was a natural departure point

for her art. "It’s my river," she explains.Kashdin traveled the length of the river for

more than three years as research for her1970s series, Aspects of the River, She boated,canoed, and portaged the 55-mile-long river,from its source at Green Swamp to its mouthin Tampa Bay. She enlisted friends to pilot thevarious craft while she photographed whatshe saw. Now 83 and still active and prolific,Kashdin says. "I know every mile of theriver."

The slides she produced are now archivedin the collection of Tampa’s Museum of

Science and Industry. They range fromextreme close-ups of plant life and portraitsof bird species, to otherworldly reflections of

Kashdin’s works inspiredby the HillsboroughRiver in‘Great Blue Heron’ top and ‘Lily Pads III’ above.

WINTER 2005 FLORIDAHUMANITIES COUNCIL FORUM 19

‘IT’S MY RIVER’

‘Lily Block’above, ‘RockBottom’ aboveright and‘PhosphateLoader’ right.

UTh

drinks to phosphates,granite works to rubberstamps.BurgertBrother photographsdepict steamersalong busy docks, railyards,sulfuroussmokestacks,andModel Ts rumbling acrosstheLafayetteStreet Bridge. Where other rivers like the St.Johnswere graced with steamerlines andVictorian winter homes,boomtownTampaquickly becamea car town. Touristguidesdirected visitors to Lake Thonotassastraight up theHillsborough via automobile or rail. Industry died a fewdecades later,andthe river fell off most people’s mentalmaps.

Maybe I’m a little cynical, but I havetrouble with the $23million for a riverwalk. When I ask my optimistic colleaguesabout the plan, theycite successstorieslike SanAntonio andChattanooga,cities thatrivers haverevitalized. What’s not tolove aboutadowntownwaterfront?But I wonderwhatkind ofpublic thispublic river would be. Will developmentdowntownopenthe rivet to an entire City? For muchlessmoney,the citycould string brown signs along the major thoroughfares"Hillshorough River, this way". Theparksdepartment could

i

20 FORUM FLORIDA frIUMAN]TIE5 CoUNcIL WINTER 2005

cypress knees and of the undersides of urbanbridges. While Kashdin considered these images simply as research for her painting, many of them wouldbe considered fine art.

Kashdin used these 2,000 images for inspirationonce she was back in her Temple Terrace studio.They formed an artistic journal inspired by the intricacies and nuances of nature: the spine of a lettuceleaf, the snowy ess-curve of an ibis, and the river’sown skeleton snaking through west-central Florida.

Just as her range and scope in photographyzoomed from wide shot to extreme detail, her paintings and works on paper vary widely in perspective,scale, and medium. The Aspects of the River seriesincludes exacting, inked miniature studies as well asfreely worked, large-scale pieces. The river and itslife are transformed into abstractions in paint andcollage, and into naturalist studies in ink on paper.

Kashdin interprets the life of the river as landscape, water-world, biological font, and anthropological gravesite. Her art reflects the mysteries of thegreen, muddy, iridescent, reptilian river in its infinitevariety.

This year, Kashdin is revisiting her river for a commission from the City of Tampa Public Art. She plansto take an extremely long view. Working from aerialphotographs, she is creating a painting of the entire1-lillsberough River.

The painting is already fully realized in the artist’smind. She gestures with her delicate hands in the airto draw the snaking line of the river and describes aribbon of iridescent silver winding through velvetgreen. "I can see it," she says.

LookingforthejJLI

River

build boat ramps in parks where it’s now content to run amower. Deadendscould becomemini canoe launches.Thecity could askthe stateDepartmentof Transportationto teardown a fence ortwo.

During a class presentation,we learnthe bizarre story ofthe river’s various names.According to accountsfrom theNarvaezand De Soto expeditions, nativescalled this riverthe Mocoso; Seminoles knew it as the Lockcha-popkachiska, the "river onecrossesto eat acorns";the Spanish,asEl Rio de SanJuliandeArriaga.After Spain cededFlorida toEnglandin 1763, the namechangedagain,this time to flat’ter Lord Hillsborough, Britain’s colonial secretary.He nevercrossedthe Atlantic, neversaw the body of waterthat stillcarries hisnametoday.

Somehowthis seemsappropriate.Throughoutthe world,rivers flow downhill. But Florida has to be different.Here,waterflows towardmoney.And the power that comeswithmoneycanrenderevena river invisible. Onthe otherside ofthe private docks and expensivehomes lining theHillsborough are some ofTampa’s poorest neighborhoods.Iwonder whether urban planning can reconcile a dividebetween"haves"and "have’nots." I hope that it can, thatthese bankswill be mote accessible foreveryone,becausetheriver is a wonderful resource-whatTampa native andTribune columnistJoe Guidry calls a"neglectedgem." But Idon’t think it will.

So maybethe Earl of Hillsboroughdeservesthe nameafterall. Call me cynical, I know. But first the name getsstolen,then the place.Now it remains in the handsof a few. Howmanyotherrivers in Florida have suffereda similar fate?

MARY MULHERN is a museum consultant, free-lancewriter, and graphic designer in Tam pa.

THOMAS HALLOCK is a visiting scholar in theFloridaStudies Program at the Universityof SouthFlorida St.Petersburg.

WINTER 2005 FLORIDA HUMANO1ES COUNCIL FORUM 21

I ,. ._.‘.,

/rHO PE 1/

By John Moran

We humans are hard-wired for degradation. The recent drought scared up a fewaquatic seduction. Images of rivers newspaper headlines, but the thirst of a growingpermeate our art, music, litera- state continues unabated, and surface-water polluture, and religion. The water bap- tants increasingly taint the source of our drinkingtism ritual is at the heart of the water,

Christian experience. Descriptions in the Qur’an This point was driven home to me in 2003 whendepict heaven with flowing rivers. Among some I went to the Church of the Sacred River, as I likeindigenous peoples of Africa, spirits of the water to call it, for my 17th consecutive Ichetuckneeare seen as the providers of knowledge and wis- birthday trip. Where once I swam through crysdom. talline water, drifting past an emerald carpet of

The ability of water to sustain and inspire us is dancing eelgrass, those same aquatic grasses wereseemingly inevitable. We live on a blue planet now covered with a tough, thick coating of brownwhose surface is 70 percent water. Our bodies algae, and the water was cloudy and dull. The picwere nurtured before birth in an amniotic sea and ture shown here, made 10 years earlier, shows aare 60 percent water. healthy river I scarcely now recognize. It seems

Most of us can recount how the magic of water the Ichetucknee, long regarded as Florida’s mosthas shaped our personal stories of what it means to pristine river, is dying a death of a thousand cutsbe a Floridian. We are drawn to the water for our as its recharge basin fills up with people and theircelebrations, our birthdays and reunions, week- detritus,ends and holidays. Some were baptized at the river, How can this be? The declining state of theand some of us plan to have our remains scattered Ichetucknee is emblematic of a larger disconnectthere. It gladdens me to know that in my final trip we have with the natural world, which has susdown the Ichetucknee, my ashes will intenningle tamed us so well for so long with gifts that demandwith the turtles and fish of my favorite river, flow- nothing in the way of spiritual or material recoming onward to the sea. pense. Ultimately, of course, there is a price to be

At the end of each summer at my church in paid, and the due date approaches.Gainesville, we join in the annual Gathering of the But rivers, like people, have both a source and aWaters ceremony. We add vials of water from our destination-and stories to be told along the way.travels to urns of water collectively signifying And this story isn’t over yet. Am I optimistichealing, peace, power, and homecoming. In our about the fate of Florida’s rivers and springs? I’dsearch for meaningful ritual that will draw us prefer not to answer that question. Let me saytogether, water once again provides the bond. instead that I do have hope, the great sustainer

Several years ago, one of our church members that gives us cause to toil on in spite of dauntingreturned from a trip to the Mideast where he saw odds.an Israeli public television program that marveled I have hope that our culture can learn to honorat the sublime Ichetucknee in a state seemingly the sacred in nature, hope that we choose politicaloverflowing with fresh water. leaders who understand that we are a part of the

But all is not well on the River of Life. We live Earth and not apart from it, and hope that theto consume, or so our culture would have us River of Life leads us to a deeper understandingbelieve; and water resources, historically viewed and appreciation for the waters that sustain us andas limitless in Florida, are in notable decline and call on us now to act on their behalf.

JOHN MORAN is a Florida naturephotographer,writer, and lecturer basedin Gainesville.This essayappearsin his newbook, Journalof

Light: The Visual Diary of a Florida NaturePhotographer.

ParadiseRestored?

Wetlandsweredrained, rivers channeled,andforestsconvertedto tree plantations. Now, costlyefforts are underwayto reclaim the ‘Real Florida.’

By ChristopherF. Meindl

half-century ago, the"real" Florida was everywhere-forests, swamps,scrubland, hugs, snakes,and lots of clean water.

Only a handful of people hadair-conditionedhomes; fast foodwas still adreamin theminds of its creators; andconvertingrailroads to hiking

trails would haveseemedas senselessasreducing thewidth of our currenr interstate highwaysto accommodatebackpackers.Indeed,most Floridiansback inthe 1940s and ‘50s would have gladlydone with a lot less real Florida andmuchmore developmentof anykind.

But today, after a population increaseof nearly 10-fold since 1940, almost halfof Florida’s original wetlandshave beendrained and occupied by houses,high-rises, strip malls, parking lots, andfarms.Rivers have been channeledfor floodcontrol and better navigation. ManyofFlorida’s forests are plantationsgrowingpine treesand little else. Urban sprawlhas completely swallowed PineilasCounty and almost all of the 70-milestrip from West Palm Beach to Miami;

and it is fast consuming Orange andHillshoroughcountiesas well. Ah, whatwe would give ftr a whiff of the realFlorida again!

In fact, thereis so much desirenow formore of the real Florida that we havebegun to "restore" partsof our heavilymanipulatedlandscape.

The Kissimmee River is a perfectexampleof this. It was once 103 rivermiles of water and wildlife habitat thatlazily meandered south from Lake

Kissimmee to LakeOkeechobee.But toaccommodatedevelopmentin the l960s,it waschanneledandstraightenedinto a56-mile ditch called C-38. Now, thereare government-sponsoredefforts torestore almosthalf of the river to its natural, real Florida state. The estimatedcostto do this is morethana half-billiondollars.

This circle hadits beginningsin 1881,when Philadelphia businessmanHamilton Disston boughta million acresof central and southernFlorida swamp-land, intending to add to his fortune byreclaiming wetlands. In those days,"reclamation"meantaltering landscapesfor more intensiveuse. Prior to thistime,excess surface water oozed acrossthemarshyandlake-coveredlandscapefromnear Kissimmee and St. Cloud, southtowardLakeKissimmee-andeventuallyout the southernend of this lakedownthe Kissimmee Rivet.A crow would fly50-plus miles from the end of LakeKissimmeeto the northern shoreof thebig lake.

But Disston’s dream of reclaimingFlorida swamplandturned into a finan

24 FORUM FLORIDAHUNIANITIESCOUNCIL WINTER

ParadiseRestored?

cial nightmareduring thepanic of 1893and subsequenteconomic depression,ultimately leadingto his suicidein 1896.Before this, however,Disston’s associatesdug several canals,providing a more

direct and "efficient" hydrological connection between northern OsceolaCounty and Lake Kissimmee.This setthestagefor slowly increasingagricultural developmentnorth of, and along, theKissimmeeRiver.

Just a few yearslamer, Congresspassedthe Rivers and Harbors Act of 1899,which providedfundsfor examiningandsurveying the KissimmeeRiver and theCaloosahatcheeRiver to Fort Myers.The goal was improved navigation. Atthat time, the U.S. Army’s Corps ofEngineersenjoyedbroad public support,

in part becausethe grossly underdeveloped condition of Florida’s transportation systemmeantthat "improved"riverswere a leadingtransportationoption.

Engineerssoon discoveredthat thoseliving in the KissimmeeValley favoredimprovements to the rivet that wouldmake it navigable just down to FortBassinger a small hamlet about two-thirds the way to Lake Okeechohee.They also learned that the rest of theriver was swampy and uninhabited bypeople-and thatCaloosahatcheeRiverfarmers fearedbeing inundatedby anyexcess water. The engineersconcludedthat the only interests demanding athrough route to Fort Myers weretourists, so they took no action to"improve" theKissimmeeRiver.

Development in and around theKissimmee Valley B.D. Before Disneycontinued at a snail’s pace. During thefirst half of the 20th century, theKissimmee River and its surroundingmarshesand woods remained crowdedwith a wide variety of birds, fish, andother wildlife. In spite of agrowingnumber of cattle ranches,it remainedpart ofthereal Florida.

By the 1960s, however,developmentwaspoppingup all over the state.I grewup in Melbourne Beach duringthis timeand we watched the woods around usturn into streetsfilled with houses.

In south-centralFlorida, hurricane-

inducedflooding in the late 1940sgener

atedpressureon politicians, who in turn

26 FORUM FLODAHuMANITlESCOuNCIL WINTER 2005

Florida’s Lower East ijust West of the

Coast

____‘rca 1900*

Inland, lower land levels kept ra4n4wjthj?Nhe wetlands of the rveJades. where it could seepthrough the ground and recharge the Biscayne Aquifer After back-to-back hurricanes flooded morethan 3 million acres for months in 1947, the Corps of Engineers was directed to build a water control system to prevent further catastrophic floodin. while ooeninp up more land for agriculture andurban development.

Present Day. a.

The Corp’s Central and Southern Flor ood Control Proj w aig success in soe ys. Itcontinues to provide drainage ar4’ otect4fl for a population three times the originalestimate. However, it has also had some unfortunate side effects. To provide surface drainage, rainwater is moved through canals to estruaries instead of into the Everglades and the Biscayne Aquifer.That lost water means that coastal weliflelds are nowthreatened with saltwater intrusion.

Long-Term SolutionSFWMD plans to acquire additional uad land to ttafor water storage, and’ffy,aL,t,heexisting canals will be redesigned to beSt mimic natural waterways. Where once there were transverse glades through the coastal ridge. drainage canals will be reconfigured to function as greenwaysand flowways, reconnecting the severed links between severed s’frsterns. This will improve waterquality, allow larger quantities to.b4 moved to preserve areas, and create recreational opportunities.

SOUTh FLORIDA WATER MANAGEMENT QiSTRICT

Scientistsestimatethat upwards of

30,000acresof

KissimmeeRiver

floodplain wetlandshave beendrained,

convenedto a canal,

or coveredwith spoil

from dredging.

asked the Corps of Engineersto create aflood-control project. This was authorizedin 1954; andfrom 1962 to 1971, engineersconvertedthe KissimmeeRiver into a bigditch. In doing this, theCorpsof Engineerscreateda series of large and usually stagnant,stair-steppedimpoundmentsor poolsalmost 30 feet deep and roughly 300 feetwide.

The new 56-mile long "improvement"was brutally efficient at removing waterfrom the landscapeand dumping it intothe northern end of Lake Okeechobee.The Corns accomplishedits mission ofreducing floodingin the KissimmeeRiverValley, andthis setthe stage foradditionalagricultural and housing development inthe region albeit am a much slower pacethan the frenetic developmentin much ofcoastal Florida. The final price tag forstraightening the Kissimmee river: $32million.

Scientists estimate that upwards of30,000 acres ofKissimmeeRiver floodplainwetlandshave beendrained, convertedtoa canal, or coveredwith spoil from dredging. Moreover, with greatly reducedwaterflows moving through significantportionsof former river channels-notto mentionthe importationof far morenutrients,compliments of the region’s cattle-manyportions of old channels havebecomechokedwith aquaticvegetation.

This didn’t occurin the pastand beforesignificant numbers of cattle, becausefloodplain wetlandscausedwater to moveslowly enoughfor nutrientsto be absorbed

by wetlands vegetation.For this reason,

water making its way into the river hadfewer nutrients than it might haveoth.erwise.

Nutrients in river water arelike vitamins for people: A little bit goes a longway. The excessaquaticvegetationdoesnot live forever; when it dies, theremains accumulatealong the bottom.The decomposerorganismsthat make aliving consumingsuchmaterialmultiplyand make enormous demandson thewater’s dissolved oxygen. As a result,many desirable speciesof fish such aslargemouth bass are replacedby lessdesirablespecies such as gar. This not

The Kissimniee train station during aflood, 1942 top and boating through alock in the ‘60s above.

only reducestheregion’s value for fishingby people; theplethora of wading birdsand waterfowl some of them winter"tourists" are equally disappointedandfind homes or wintering habitat elsewhere.Indeed,populationsof fish, birds,andwaterfowl declinedsignificantly andbecame far less diverse in the yearsimmediately afterthe river was channeled. As if all this were not enough,excessivenutrients from the Kissimmee

River wound up in Lake Okeechohee,causing similarproblems in one of thestate’spremierfishing holes.

And thencamethe political backlash.Becauseopposition to digging a trenchthrough the Kissimmeebecameintense,the Florida Legislature passed theKissimmee River Restoration Act 0f1976.This officially began theprocessofrestoring the river. Congress and theFlorida Legislatureagreedin 1992 to splitwhat has now ballooned into a morethan half-billion-dollar price tag, andthat will return only part of the river tothe real Florida.

The SouthFlorida Water ManagementDistrict andtheCorps of Engineershavebought some of the cattle ranchesanddestroyedtwo water-control structures.They will be back-filling some22 miles

water are likevitamins for people:

A little bit goesalong way.

of C-38. By 2010, some43 miles of theformer 103 miles of the KissimmeeRivetshould look and act more like the realFlorida.

Meanwhile, over the past severaldecades,the KissimmeeValley attractedsomeresidentialdevelopment-andthisis at leastoneimportantreasonwhy onlypart of the river can be restored. If theentire river were restored,it would costhundreds0f millions of additional dollars-andthenmany homeownerswouldbe subjectto periodicflooding.

Evenso, theongoingrestorationof theKissimmeeRiver, andsimilar activity inpartsof the Everglades,is surelyanexcit

ing development for those of us whocrave links to Florida’spastthroughmoreexposureto the real Florida. At the same

time, it is also deeply disappointingthatwe can return only parts of these land

scapes tosomesemblanceof their early20th-century condition.

But perhapswe ought not be so disappointed. After all, as geographerDavidLowenthalmaintains,we cannevercompletely understandwhat the past was

like, becauseits survival on the landscape,in books,andin ourheadsis selectively perceivedfrom thestart-and the

past is further altered by the passageoftime.

Still, I am torn. I amgratefulthatcontinuedgrowth in Florida provided meanopportunity to return home to live and

work. But I am temptedto be disgustedwith all the social and environmentalproblems suchgrowth spawns.Moreover,

although I cherishthe realFlorida, I recognizethat most Floridians live in urbanenvironments-landscapes thatalsohavepositivevalues. Sohere I sit, prefer

ring more real Florida-atthe sametimeI recognizethat what I really wish for areselectedaspectsof the past.

CHRISTOPHERE MEINDL is assistant professorof geographyat theUniversity of SouthFlorida St. Petersburg.

Nutrients in river

28 FORUM FLoRioAl-IuMAN1TIEScOuNciL WINTER 2005

Florida.Dive in.Our lives are marked by singular moments.

Experiences that reverberate through our lives likethe dropping of a stone in a pond. The circle of life.

The power of ideas. Lines that trace a story.History both personal and of the worid around

us. At the Florida Humanities Council we exploreFlorida’s living history, heritage and culture in waysthat let you touch it, feel it, and experience it for

yourself. Come share our passion for great ideas andthe great State of Florida. Dive into our calendar ofevents at www.flahum.org or call 727 553-3801.

FLORIDA * >HumañftiesCOUNCIL

30 YearsofExploring theFlorida Experience

Miami River: Host to HistoryFrom ancientto modemtimes, it has beena lifeline

By Paul S. George

M y childhood world was a neighborhood bracketedon two sidesby the meanderingMiami River.

We lived in a garageapartmentbehindmyGrandmother’s housenear the westernfringes of Riverside, an earlyi90Os Miamisubdivision. Occasionally,my father tookme for awalk to the river. ThereI wasfilledwith wondermentat its buzzing maritimeactivity, unspoiled banks, and tall wood-framed homesthat appearedto tilt towardthe stream.

Yearslater, aftermoving away for graduate schoolandseveralteachingstints elsewhere, I returned to a remarkably morediverseanddevelopedMiami. I immersedmyself in its rich history and was soonengagedin a full complementof history-oriented activities, including conductinghistory tours of the area. Many peopleshowed intense interest in the MiamiRiver, andit becamemy mostpopulartour.

Known in earliertimesby the SpanishasAgua Dulce or"sweetwater," a reference toa freshwaterstream, the Miami River issmallas riversgo; hut it hashostedas muchhistory as most bodies ofwaterfar larger.Indeed, this serpentinestream speakstoevery epochand elementof the area’shistory. Its bankswerehometo nativeIndians,Spanishmissions,slaveplantations,a U.S.Army fort, trading posts, luxury hotels,boat yards,fisheries,andpioneerhomes. Ithasseenceremoniesof ancienttimes, fighting in wartime,andindustrial developmentin modemtimes.

The rivet itself is just 4.5 miles long. TheMiami Canal, constructed in the early1900s as part of the state’s Evergladesdrainageprogram, extends the waterwaysome 80 additional miles to LakeOkeechobee.

Peoplehavepopulatedtheriverbanksforthousandsof years, as evidencedby the

famed Miami Circle, a 2,000-year-oldcircular incision in the bedrock near theriver’s mouth on the southbank. Thecircle, thoughtto be a ceremonialsite, measures 38 feet across. On the north bank,there lived the largest concentrationofnative Miamians, called TequestasbySpanishsettlers. The Spanishbuilt threeJesuit missionsfor the Tequestasalong theriver.

Later, the riverbankshostedtwo 19th-century slave plantations thatgrew corn,sweet potatoes,and sugarcane;an Armyfort active in two Seminolewars;the homeof Julia Tuttle, knownas the "mother" ofmodem Miami; the stunning Royal PalmHotel built by railroadmagnateHenry M.Flagler; the fledgling city’s first thoroughfare,AvenueD; and,in Fort Dallas Park,itsmost posh earlysubdivision.

It was on AvenueD, within oneblockofthe waterway,that 368 settlers, on a steamy

Junk cars and old mattresses await loading onto a freighter along the Miami River near downtown.

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Miami River: Host to History

summerday in July 1896, votedto incorporate as a city. The sertlementhad come aLong wayby then, thanks to the arrival inApril 1896, of Flagler’s Florida EastCoastRailway. Its original terminus was on thenorth bank of the river oneblock west ofAvenue D. Just a yearearlier the tiny settlement counted but nine personslivingalongthe river. Now it claimedan estimated 700 residents.

As a city was arising onthe north bank,a bustling Indiantradewas nearingthe endof its third decadeof activity on the southbank. There, situatednearthe mouth, wasthe thriving Brickell trading post. ItsMiccousukeeclients poled downriverfromtheir Evergladesredouhtsin dugout canoes,bringing with themalligator skinsandeggs,egretplumes,andcoontiestarchprocessedfrom theroot of a cycadplant andused forbiscuits, breads, and stews. Theyexchangedthese itemsfor manufacturedgoods bartered by membersof the flintyBrickell family. Thatpicturesqueera wouldsoon endasthe southbankgaveway to ris’ing residentialneighborhoods.

From this area, theMiami Riverchangesits coat frequently as it meanderswest/northwestunder a colorful variety ofbridges and an imposing expressway span,past anold boatyard wherewartimevesselswere manufactured,past lobsrerand stone-crab fisheries, andpast beautiful Lummus

just a century ago that the

quiescentMiami River and

the soon-to-be-built Miami

Canal wouldwitnessso

much Hstory much less

serveas a critical lifeline for

one of the most important

cities in the hemisphere?

Park.Oneof the city’s oldest parks,it Contains the slave plantation houselater usedas an Army fort built by William Englishin the late 1840s. It is also the locationofWilliam Wagner’s pine homesteadhouse.Erected in the late l850s, this was thevenue for the first Catholic Massesheldsince the earliermissionaryera.

About a quarter’mile west, the pocketneighborhoodof Spring Gardenoverlooksthe river. A historic district carvedout of asubtropical hammock in the l9ZDs and1930s, it claims Marjory Stoneman

Douglas, author of River of Grass, as anearly resident. Farther upriverwas thehomeof GeorgeLewis, a blockade-runnerduring the Civil War. When theUnionlearned of Lewis’s activities, they sent asmall contingent of blockade-enforcerswho proceededto torchhis home.

Beyondthere, in the vicinity of thestoried OrangeBowl Stadium, are two fabled"Indian Caves" that hover abovetheshallow waters of the Lawrence ParkCanal.Thecaves arelargeenoughfor a personofaverageheight to amble through in comfort. It is believedthat they beganas solution holes in the oolitic limestone thatundergirdsthe ridge--andeveryotherpartof southeastFlorida-andwere enlargedbythe handof man in the20th century.

Nearby is theconfluenceof the river andthe southfork, which roamsfor nearly amile in asouthwesterlydirection. In oneofthe most celebrated incidents of theSecond Seminole War, Col. WilliamHarney led his men upriver from FortDallas to the south fork andtheEvergladesencampmentof Chief Chekaikaand hisSeminole followers. Hamey and his men,dressedin Indian regaliaandwearing "warpaint" on their faces, killed severalSeminoles,including Chekaika,in revengefor the wanton slayings of civilians. TheSeminole leader’s giant lifeless body washungfrom a tall royal palm tree.

The river wasn’t always a beehive of activity, or a still body of water, as thisphoto of rapids on the Nilami River in 1918 shows above. By 1918 rightdevelopment choked its banks.

Who could have imagined

32 FORUM FLORIDAHIJMANITIESCOONCIL WINTER 2005

Less than a half-mile beyondthe beginning of thesouthfork is the entranceto theSecondPort of Miami, which rises abovethe banksof the Miami Canal.A beehiveof activity, theport includes scrap-ironandrecycling plants; boat-repair,finishing, andpainting businesses;and, mostimportantly,a bustling cargo industryinvolving large,aged freightersthat retum to Caribbeanand Central American countries ladenwith awide variety ofgoods.It is thestate’sfourth-busiestport, doing anannualbusinessof $4 billion.

Who could haveimaginedjust a centuryagothat thequiescentMiami Riverandthesoon-to-be-builtMiami Canal would witness so much history, muchless serveas acritical lifeline for oneof the most important cities in the hemisphere?I know ofnowhere else in this dynamic city thatspeaksto so many eras, events,personali’ties, andprocessesas the Miami River. Inevertire of touring it and sharingits richly textured history with my audiences.Foreach timeI am on the river, I feel as if it ismy inauguralvisit andthat all of its wonderis unfolding beforemejust as it did thefirsttime I saw it.

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PAUL S. GEORGEis a professor of social

scienceat Miami-Dade CommunityCollege,WolfsonCampus.This article is reprintedfrom theFall 2002 issue of FORUM.

Information call888-917-7001 or

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900 E. Princeton Street * Orlando, Florida 32803 MUSEUM HOURS:407.246.4278* Fax: 407.246.4329 ;J, Tuesday - Saturday 10:30 a.m. - 4:30 p.m.www.mennellomuseum.com Sunday noon - 4:30 p.m. * Closed major holidays

The Mennellu Museum of American Art is owned and operated by the City of Orlando.

THELAST

WORD

The Winds of Changefour majorhurricanesbarreledinto Florida in

2004, theSunshineStatebecamethe PlywoodState, theState of Fatigue, and the National

isaster State. Ferocious windsand waterscouredthecoastsandsoakedthe interior, hut theeventsleft more than physical damage.They also shearedthesocial andcultural, economicandecologicallandscape.

The hurricanes battered and bent, leveled anddisheveledsome of Florida’s wealthiest neighborhoodsand poorest places. Charley,Frances, and Jeanne slicedthrough Sanibel and CaptivaIslands and Jupiter and

Hutchinson Islands. Ivan leftPensacolaBay a "graveyard ofyachts." Hurricanes alsoexposed the plight of Floridafarm workers in places likeBowling GreenandArcadia. Adiverse, multicultural Floridaemergedfrom thenewsreelsand

front pages.The storms also rearranged

the landscape.Charleysliced inhalf the island of NorthCaptiva. Beaches and dunestook a severe hit, althoughscientistspoint out that oneplace’s erosion is another’s gain.The storms also hurtseverely endangeredloggerheadand green-turtlenests.Eagles’ nests also took a beating. Across Florida, barometric pressure and torrential rain played havoc withseptic tanks, sewers, and sewage treatment plants.Environmentalistswill be sorting out the meaning of2004 for years.

As the highwinds blew acrosspolitical, class,and geographicboundaries,it becameclear that in hurricanes,as

in life, class matters. From storm prep to evacuation

routesto insuranceclaims, it helpsto havemoney.AlongtheGold Coast,somefamilies escapeddangerby leasingprivate jets $17,000 a flight. The mangroveislands ofthe FloridaKeys, long a refugefor Conchsand smugglers,becametemporaryhometo hundredsof expensivecraft,

whoseownershopedto savethemega-yachts.Who will benefit from the social and economic

upheaval?Class,power,andpolitical influence likely willtriumph. Bigger will replace smaller; newwill supplantold. Mobile-home communities thatlined lakes andrivers will be replacedby expensivecondominiumsandgated communities. It is the most elementary law of

Florida physics: Water flows toward power. Wherewillthedisplacedresidentsgo? Laws ofFlorida physics donot

help with suchquestions.We haveseenin the pasthow

winds of change have alteredthe course of Florida history.The hurricane of 1559destroyedthe de Luna colonythat had settledon PensacolaBay, thus allowing the upstartsettlementof Sr. Augustine tolay claim to being the nation’soldest city. A 1926 hurricanepunctured Miami’s balloon,inspiring the nicknamefor thefledgling University of Miamifootball team. In 1928, astormso powerful that locals swore it

"blowed a crooked roadstraight"killed thousandson the southernshoreof LakeOkeechobee. HurricaneDonnaroared through south

west Florida in 1960, leveling many old beachcottages

and pavingthe way for modern redevelopment.The Taino Indians of the Caribbean attributed a

malevolent quality to the hurrdcan. Some in modemsociety share a similar outlook, depictingCharley,Frances,Ivan, andJeanneas evil andaberrational.But ahurricaneis a natural, not a moral, phenomenon.

To be aFloridian is to be optimistic. After the fiercewindspassed,Florida wasagainopenfor business.Withindays after the devastation,real estate speculatorswerereadyto reinvestin Florida. Millions of baby boomerson

the lip of retirementbelieve sun, water, and palm treesguaranteeetemalyouth. Yet the Florida Dream endures,if slightly mildewed,frayed, and stressed,

GARY R. MORMINO, the Frank E. DuckwallProfessorof History, teachesat USF St.Petersburg.This essaywa-sadaptedfromhis forthcomingbook, Land of Sunshine,State of Dreams.

Gary R.Mormino

A Fort Meade woman photographs damage to amobile home in the aftermath of Hurricane Chancy.

34 FORUM FLORIDA HIJNIAN4ITIES OUNIL WINTER 2005

HILLSBOROUCH COUNTY COMPETITIONApril, 2, 2005 * 9:30 a.m. - 4:00 pm.

Blake High School2005Natidna! History Day Theme:

Communication in History The Key to UnderstandingNational History Day is not just one day, but a

yearlorig education program that makes history come alive.

Junior Level grades 6 8 Senior Level grades 9 - 12

At th national level, contest winners receive cash prizes. The grand prize is a fouçr,year full tuition -acbQJarship to Case Western Reserve University Special prizes areawarded in topic areas such as African American history state history and women’shistory. -- - . --

At the county jevel, winners receive pzes and teachers are recognized withcertificates of merit. ijie teacher of theflrst place wanners will receive a classroomset of Living History curriculum units

The Patrick Riordan Memorial Student Essay competiti Am Fjorida History is opento students who -enter the Florida Hftory Fair with a paper essay on a Florida tplcfollowing the same guidIines as the general Florida History Day competition Prizeswill be awarded to the top, tDtee ertries

For more Ft formation on rules, topics and’’rnts please eo6tact Lz Dunham, HilisboroughCounty Coordinator, at 513 228-0097 or visit www.tampabayhistorycentetorg

225 5. FRANKLIN ST. * TAMPA, FLORIDA *. 81 3.22D.OO97’WWW.TAMPABAYHISTORYCENTER.ORG

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