THE SETTLING OF SARASOTA (14th in a series)

In the last installment, you read about Sarasota’s first train, the “Slow and Wobbly”. This link between Bradentown (now Bradenton) and Sarasota was Sir John Gillespie’s attempt to assure Sarasota’s survival.

After less than three years of spasmodic trips, the Slow and Wobbly was retired. Construction had stopped, the workers had gone and there was little money to spend. The engine and flat cars were left to rust. Gillespie’s problems were multiplying.

His wife Mary was a cantankerous woman who enjoyed frequent nips of scotch or bourbon or rum often resulting in, shall we say, embarrassing situations. Sir John, an ardent Episcopalian was serving as a lay reader at church services one Sunday and Mrs. Gillespie strolled in after services had begun and took a seat close to the pulpit. She opened a large red parasol and held it over her head until services ended. She then stood up, closed the parasol and said “nice going darlin” and left the building, weaving down the wooden sidewalk towards the De Soto Hotel (inset).

Some months later, in an effort to get a church in Sarasota, Gillespie invited an Episcopalian bishop to be his guest at the DeSoto Hotel. The bishop arrived accompanied by a large group of church dignitaries. While he was seated in the dining room Mrs. Gillespie entered, lurched into a waiter who spilled the entire contents of a soup tureen on the bishop’s lap. The bishop rose, said nothing, left the dining room and the DeSoto Hotel the next morning. Sarasota did not get its Episcopalian church that year.

As a result of Mary Gillespie’s shenanigans, the couple he had hired to manage the DeSoto Hotel left it in 1891 and built their own fancy hotel; the guests moved and soon the DeSoto closed.

Sir John and Mary moved to Bradentown for a short time, after which they returned to Scotland for a visit. When Gillespie returned to Sarasota a few years later he was alone.

The winter of 1894-95 was the coldest in the state’s history. Temperatures fell to 17 degrees, killing the vegetable crop and ruining the season’s citrus crop. As a result, in 1895, fishing was the only economic stimulus remaining and Sarasota was referred to as a fishing village. Fortunately the trees in the groves escaped being killed by the frost; citrus growers from farther north in Florida moved to the area and started new groves.

Until then, fish caught in the Sarasota area were gutted and salted for transportation to other areas. Beginning in 1884, the demand for salted fish declined because fresh fish shipped in ice had become available. Ice plants were being built in Tampa but economical transportation of ice and fish did not yet exist. In 1895, channels were cut in Sarasota Bay that allowed steamers to take the inland waterway from Tampa directly to the dock at Sarasota. The bill from the U.S. Swanee Dredge was $9,998.43.

Harry Lee Higel came to Sarasota in the early 1890’s and bought the dock at the end of Main Street that was built by the defunct Scottish Colony. He became the agent for the Tampa line whose steamship, “Mistletoe”, made its maiden trip on Monday, October 7, 1895, to pick up fresh fish. The scheduled stop developed into three visits per week.

On each trip the captain blew the whistle as the ship was coming down the bay and many of the town’s residents turned out to see if new tourists were aboard.

The community now had a dependable connection with the outside world. Sarasotans could sell their vegetables and fruit in Tampa and buy goods in the “big stores” there with the proceeds.

To be continued..

Copyright © Leland G. Desmon. The information on this page may not be reproduced or republished on another webpage, website, or other printed material. Please LINK TO US instead.

Photo credit: Sarasota County Historical Resources

THE SETTLING OF SARASOTA (13th in a series)

This is a story about Sarasota’s first railroad.

The first train was called the ‘Slow and Wobbly’ by the local residents. It ran from the county seat in "Bradentown" to Sarasota; the inaugural run took place on May 16, 1892, the venture lasted for 3 years.

Little if any ballast had been used when the tracks were laid and, as a result, the train always wobbled and staggered along, appearing every moment as though it would topple. And it often did! One time the engine rolled over when it reached the water tower just outside Bradentown and the tower collapsed. After that the engineer siphoned the water needed out of ponds along the right of way.

The engine was a dilapidated Civil War, wood burner with a huge firebox and a towering smokestack that poured forth soot and sparks. The ‘train’ consisted of two flat cars, one of which was covered with a canvas canopy to protect the passengers from the sun, rain and smoke. This car, which had uncovered plank seats, was dignified by the name “the day coach.”

There was no station; one had to climb a stepladder to get to the platform and the entrance to the ‘white folks’ passenger car. The other car was used for ‘colored’ people, mail and freight. The schedule of this, the first railway in all of Manatee County, was timed by the arrival of the steamer “Margaret” of the Plant Steamship Line, from Port Tampa, and the steamer “Manatee”, of the Independent line, also from Tampa. They had the mail contract filling-in the gap between the Tampa railroad terminal and Bradentown in Manatee County.

The train started on the judgment of the conductor in charge; at any rate, he ran the train to suit himself, usually starting when the mailbags were delivered to him. The black smoke from the fat pine fuel made it hard to tell that the engineer was a ‘white’ man. The Negro fireman was so black that the smut kind of left a white mark on him. These three made up the crew of the train. One trip made along with an early passenger, his wife, his sister, and her husband, is a fair example of this innovation in the mail service, carried before this time by buggy or on horseback.
The following is his description of the trip.
“When the conductor was ready, and steam was up to the desired pressure, indicated mostly by the leaky cylinder glands, he signaled the engineer to start going, a sign for a prolonged blowing of the whistle and ringing of the bell, thus notifying the public they were off once more. Lou Duckwall, the conductor, brought his dinner pail aboard and left it on the floor under the bench seat near the door opening. Pretty soon the train was weaving through the woods, rattling and squeaking its winding way, between ditches that had been excavated to raise the narrow gauge track above the ordinary level of the woods.

The track had settled in many places, making it rough riding, so much so, that the conductor’s lard can dinner pail worked its way back on the floor and fell out. He just noticed it and made a grab, but missed it, leaned out making frantic efforts to call engineer James Nichols’ attention to stop the train. Being so informed, Nichols stopped and backed slowly, all hands and passengers watching to find the lost pail. After going back for about a mile someone shouted, “there it is” pointing to the dry ditch. Our conductor hopped out and secured it, the contents still in the dinner pail and apparently all right. He climbed up the iron steps, working himself back into the car, laughingly placed the wayward pail in a more secure place, not much worried about this event. Time seemingly was no object. It appeared funny enough to us, and we all had a good laugh over the incident.

While the train was puffing and snorting along, the engineer tooting the whistle at every cow or cow’s husband he passed in the woods, the steam vapor sifted its way through the canvas, making our ride ever more uncomfortable.

Along about Oneco we stopped to take on wood where it was stacked in cords on a platform. All hands helped to put it aboard the tender, bantering in the meantime with Simmy, an old Cracker who had the job of keeping the engine in fuel. He was unloading his rickety wagon pulled by a cow and a bull.

Once more we started off, shouting “so long” to Simmy, through the piney woods, getting all shaken up on the primitive road when the smell of something burning arrested our attention. Everybody looked around to see if their clothes were afire, when the discovery was made that a spark had filtered through a hole in the canvas and got into the sister’s parasol. The breeze fanned it into a blaze. The parasol was thrown out of the car, a complete loss.

The fare for this eventful trip, two dollars each, that brought us to Sarasota where we alighted onto a platform at the front of a one room shack in the woods.” The station crew often “forgot” to transfer the fares to Gillespie, the railroad’s train manager.

ALAS!

To be continued..

Copyright © Leland G. Desmon. The information on this page may not be reproduced or republished on another webpage, website, or other printed material. Please LINK TO US instead.

Photo Credit: Sarasota County Historical Resources

THE SETTLING OF SARASOTA (11th in a series)

The photograph (inset) was taken of the Whitakers, the Brownings, and other Sarasota pioneers on a Sunday afternoon in 1886 the fan in the hand of the man in the left foreground. The head-to-toe clothing and the mosquitoes made the fan a requirement.

Beginning in the fall of 1886 Sarasota was the fastest growing community on the West Coast of Florida south of Tampa. The DeSoto Hotel was under construction streets were opened in the woods, and homes were being built.

Craftsmen were paid $2.00/day, laborers $1.25/day, in cash. The first school, a one room building 16 X 25 feet was built on the south side of Main Street and paid for by Sir John Gillespie, an official of the Florida Mortgage & Investment Co. (FMIC). The photo of Sir John was taken in 1886.

He introduced golf to Florida on May 16, 1886 by “laying out” a two-hole one-fairway course on what is now Sarasota’s Main Street. The 2007 edition of the yellow pages lists over 65 golf courses in the Sarasota, Bradenton, Venice area, and John Gillespie designed quite a few of those built between 1888 and 1918).

On February 25,1887, Gillespie’s DeSoto Hotel opened with a Grand Ball that was attended by 200 persons, many of whom arrived on horseback. Some celebrants needed a few days before attempting the ride back home. The DeSoto Hotel was located at the foot of Main Street, had 30 rooms, a large lobby, and a dining room. It was said to be the finest on the West Coast of Florida; the rent was $2.00 a night. (Later renamed The Belle Haven Inn).

The mail arrived in Sarasota from the community of Manatee three days a week. It was then transported by horse and buggy. Since there were no bridges, the driver would ford the creeks at the shallowest places. Whenever the water rose above the buggy’s floor, the mailman would stand on the seat to keep dry.

On May 14, 1887, Charles Whitaker was appointed postmaster and the post office was moved to the Whitaker store on Main Street. The Sarasotans now could get their mail without trudging through the woods to the Abbe store, more than a mile and a half away. Alex Browning, son of a pioneer family, once remarked that you knew where people were visiting by where their horses were tethered. I suspect that this may have caused a rumor or two to be started.

Many of the workers who came to Sarasota for the good wages were rough characters and said and did things frowned upon by the good people. Construction continued at a rapid pace, however, and buildings were erected on the north side of Main Street between Palm and Pineapple Avenues. One of them was built for John Iverson who had just married and wanted a “new Home in town” for his bride. After many years, C.V.S. Wilson, the founder of the Sarasota Times, used the house as a print shop. The Florida Mortgage and Investment Co. built a two-story office building on the corner of 8th and Central. Gillespie had his office there.

On September 10, 1887, Elaf Green, a carpenter who had come to Sarasota with his family to work on the DeSoto Hotel stopped at Whitaker’s store and calmly remarked that he had just killed his wife, son and two daughters. Sheriff Watson, whose office was in Bradenton, was notified and he rushed to Sarasota and placed Green under arrest. The sheriff and Green were in a buggy headed back to Bradenton when Green threw the sheriff out of the buggy, grabbed his rifle and raised it to fire when Charles Whitaker who was following on horseback shot and killed him.

SARASOTA WAS INDEED A BOOMTOWN!

Photo credit: Sarasota County Historical Society

Stay tuned, more to come..

Copyright © Leland G. Desmon. The information on this page may not be reproduced or republished on another webpage, website, or other printed material. Please LINK TO US instead.

THE SETTLING OF Sarasota (6th in a series)

Murder stains the history of Sarasota

Charles Abbe (inset), his wife, Charlotte, and teenage daughters, Carrie and Nellie landed in the town of Manatee (now Bradenton) in November 1877. The family had lived in a suburb of Chicago where Charles had been a salesman for the Singer Sewing Machine Company.

Charles had visited Florida during 1875 and 1876 and bought 359 acres along the bay in what is now Sarasota for less than $1.00 per acre. In the spring of 1877, he bought additional acreage from the state and more land in January 1878.

Charlotte and Charles built a house at what is now the intersection of Arlington Street and Osprey Avenue, a few miles south of the Whitaker's home. He advertised in northern newspapers inviting tourists to winter at his "hotel". He farmed a portion Of the property, opened a store, and in July 1878 applied for a U.S. Post Office to be located at his house. It was granted in August, named Sarasota, and served forty families.

In 1879 Nellie Abbe married Furman Whitaker, the son of Mary Jane and William Whitaker. Charles became active in local politics and was appointed Commissioner in 1882.

Under the Homestead Act of 1862, practically all of the land in this federal public domain was opened for colonization. The Swamp Land Act of 1650 made it possible for Florida pioneers in clever deals with Federal Agents to have 22 million acres classified as swamp land, more than half the state.

On June 12, 1883, under the influence of 'business interests', Florida Governor William D. Bloxham signed a deed giving title of 246,052 acres of land to the Florida Land & Improvement Co. headed by Hamilton Disston, a saw manufacturer of Philadelphia. One week later (June 19, 1883) he gave title to 271,796 more acres of Manatee County land to the Florida Southern Railroad and 48,971 acres to the Florida Mortgage and Investment Co., Ltd, a British concern. A total of 697, 846 acres were finally given away, much of it previously deeded to the pioneer homesteaders.

In April 1884, a meeting was held at Jason Alford's home; 17 pioneers attended, and formed the Sara Sota Vigilance Committee. It was said that they organized to prevent their community from being unjustly gobbled up by the land grabbers.

On June 1884, Harrison T. Riley was riding his pony on the trail from Bee Ridge to Abbe's Post Office, when he was hit by three shotgun blasts. Three men came out of the palmetto. One shot him again, and one cut his throat.

A coroner's jury was empanelled, visited the scene and returned the verdict: "killed by parties unknown". Nearly all of the jury members were Vigilantes.

One reason given later for Riley's death was that he was living with Widow Mary Suringer, (without benefit of clergy), and that he intended to steal her property. Riley's murder was also a "test" meant to discover whether the authorities (the sheriff lived forty miles away) would do anything about it.

(To Be Continued)..

(C) Copyright, 2007 - Leland Desmon.
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