The sunland tribune

The sunland tribune

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The sunland tribune
Tampa Historical Society
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Tampa, Fla
Tampa Historical Society.
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History -- Periodicals -- Tampa (Fla.) ( lcsh )
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University of South Florida Library
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S57-00011 ( USFLDC DOI )
s57.11 ( USFLDC Handle )
09776226 ( OCLC )
023093570 ( ALEPH )

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THE SUNLAND TRIBUNE Volume XI December, 1985 The Official Journal of TAMPA HISTORICAL SOCIETY Tampa, Florida Sunland Tribune Leland M. Hawes, Jr., Editor 1985 Officers Richard S. Clarke President Nancy Skemp Vice President Annie Kate Carpenter Recording Secretary Howell McKay Treasurer Laura Melton Corresponding Secretary Board of Directors H. Wayne Bevis R. Flake Chambliss Molly Corum J.B. Hickey Dr. James W. Covington Joseph Hipp Joe M. Klay Lois Latimer Tony Pizzo Ed Rood, Sr. Leland Hawes, Jr. Robert Logan Randy Stevens TAMPA HISTORICAL SOCIETY KNIGHT HEADQUARTERS 245 S. Hyde Park Avenue Tampa, FL 33606 813-259-1111 Table of Contents ANNUAL REPORT OF THE PRESIDENT By Richard S. Clarke inside front cover THE DADE MASSACRE: ADDING NEW INSIGHTS By Leland M. Hawes, Jr 2 A CIVIL WAR LETTER FROM CAPT. JAMES McKAY By Robert A. Taylor 7 INCENTIVES HELPED TO BUILD WEST TAMPA By Arsenio M. Sanchez 9 THE D.B. McKAY AWARD 13 WATROUS DOLL HOUSE ON DISPLAY By Betty Phipps 14 TAMPA'S MOST RAUCOUS, ROARIN'DECADE By Hampton Dunn 15 THE CASUALTY LIST WAS CORRECTED By Tony Pizzo 25 WINGS OVER TAMPA -AND FLORIDA: Part Two By H. Wayne Bevis 26 AN INDIAN INCIDENT ON THE LAKE OF FLINTS By Dr. James W. Covington 31 TAMPA'S EARLY BANKS WEATHERED MANY A STORM By June Connor 33 RECALLING TAMPA IN WORLD WAR II By Louis Fritze 38 ABOUT THE AUTHORS 40 1985 PATRONS OF THE SUNLAND TRIBUNE inside back cover COVER PAINTING: "The Dade Massacre" by Kenneth Hughs, commissioned and owned by the Historical Association of Southern Florida. The Sunland Tribune is the official annual publication of Tampa Historical Society, distributed to members each year. Non-members may receive limited edition issues by contacting the Society at 259-1111. Individuals interested in contributing manuscripts for consideration should send them to the headquarters no later than August 1 of each calendar year. The Sunland Tribune Committee will review, accept or reject articles and will return all photographs and materials not selected for publication. All manuscripts should be no more than twelve double-spaced typed pages in length and should include footnotes, lists of sources as well as captions for all photographs submitted.


The Dade Massacre: Adding New Insights By LELAND M. HAWES, JR. Frank Laumer personifies Dade Massacre survivor Ransom Clark on the actual battlefield site.


One hundred fifty years ago this December, two companies of regular Army troops left Tampa's Fort Brooke on a perilous journey. Charged with relieving isolated Fort King, near today's Ocala in the midst of increasingly hostile Seminole Indians, they were well aware of the dangers. The intended commander of the expedition, Capt. George W. Gardiner, pulled away from the departure at the last minute because of the critical illness of his wife. Thus, by a quirk of fate, Maj. Francis Langhorne Dade took over command and his name became linked forever to the disaster that lay ahead. Events of that march in December 1835 have provided an overwhelming fascination for Floridian Frank Laumer for more than 23 years. He researched extensively, trudged the same route and wrote the book "Massacre," published in 1968. Laumer didn't stop there. Almost obsessively, he continued collecting material, adding new facts and insights. He became so involved that he sought and obtained a court order to dig up the remains of Pvt. Ransom Clark, one of the few survivors of the Indian onslaught. When called upon, as he was by the Tampa Historical Society for its annual banquet this year, he assumes the uniform and persona of Clark, telling events of the march from the rugged soldier's viewpoint. Laumer, who lives in a stone home on the banks of the Withlacoochee River, not many miles from the massacre site, has been revising his book to include the new findings. For example, he has discovered correspondence reemphasizing the quandary of conscience faced by Capt. Francis Smith Belton, commander of Fort Brooke less than four days when a fateful decision had to be made. Ordered by Gen. Duncan Clinch to send about 200 troops to bolster beleaguered Fort King, Belton agonized that sending so small a detachment was fraught with risk. Since not even 100 men were available when Clinch's order came, he had to delay. Why was he so worried? Because earlier that summer a group of Indians had been captured, disarmed and horsewhipped by white settlers who contended the Indians had killed some of their cattle. When more Indians arrived, gunfire broke out, three whites were wounded and one Indian killed. In August a Fort Brooke private carrying mail to Fort King was killed by the Seminoles, his body mutilated and thrown into a pond. In the thick of the unrest, Belton found communications cut off with Fort King. There was every reason to feel uneasy, disquieted by the assigned mission and apprehensive of an attack on the Tampa outpost, as well. On Dec. 16, Belton got word that 250 Indians were "lying in wait" for any expedition that might move northward. He was on the verge of sending the only troops he had two companies, but canceled the plan. He decided to wait again for more help, en route from other areas, including Key West. At Fort King, Col. Alexander C. W. Fanning believed there were at least 1,000 Seminoles between him and Fort Brooke. In his book, Laumer wrote that Fanning had been trying


to get word through to Tampa, warning how dangerous it would be to send only 100 men on the march. Then the schooner Motto arrived from Key West on Dec. 21, bearing Major Dade and another small detachment of men. Apparently, Belton came to a decision then to fill out the slim ranks with Dade's men and push ahead to fulfill General Clinch's order. On Wednesday, Dec. 23, 1835, two columns set out 99 enlisted men, seven officers and a doctor. Belton "was under tremendous pressure to send reinforcements to Fort King," Laumer told me in an interview. "Finally he bowed to his own inner pressure." There were other subtle pressures as well. Family ties between some of the troops at Fort Brooke and Fort King undoubtedly brought expressions of support such as "We can make it." Even after sending out the relief expedition, Belton suffered new doubts. Laumer has come across a message sent by courier from Belton to Dade. It reached him on the third day as the march progressed northward of today's Dade City. It carried a crucial question: "Shall you keep on?" The historian is convinced that if the columns had turned back at that point, the trap would have been sprung immediately. For Seminoles had shadowed every step of the expedition, eagerly waiting for the word to attack. -Library of Congress printA later scene in the Seminole War shows troops at the Withlacoochee River.


"Indians were jumping around and screaming in the night" as the marchers sought to rest after trudging first to the Little Hillsborough (today's Harney), then to the Big Hillsborough River, where a bridge had been burned and the crossing was a wet one. Lt. Benjamin Alvord, sent back with a message from Dade telling of the impossibility of towing a six-pounder cannon with oxen, brought messages from two other officers advising how their personal affairs might be settled in the event of their deaths. "They knew they might be doomed," Laumer said. (Incidentally, when horses were sent to tug the cannon, Captain Gardiner joined the march after all, but he refused Major Dade's offer to take over command at that point. His ill wife had been put aboard the return sailing of the Motto to Key West, where better medical assistance was available.) One desperate hope remained for strengthening Dade's obviously outnumbered men: More troops, under the command of Maj. John Mountford. They were expected momentarily by ship at Fort Brooke. But they finally arrived three days after Dade's departure transport ship bearing some of the men and most of the supplies went astray in the wrong end of Tampa Bay. So any hope of their catching up with the expedition was dashed by fate. Latimer's account interweaves the information that has emerged on the Indians' plans. Osceola, who had developed as the dominant Seminole militant, was hell-bent upon settling an old score with Gen. Wiley Thompson, the Indian agent stationed at Fort King. (Thompson had placed him in chains during an earlier confrontation.) He wanted to kill Thompson first, before signaling the attack on Dade's marchers. Impatient Seminoles, trailing the soldiers while waiting for the word, missed several obvious opportunities to ambush at river crossings. "It took Osceola's charisma or whatever to hold them back until he gave the signal," Latimer related. "The Indians were under a kind of control. Osceola had ordered them to keep track of the troops, and they expected him to come down (from the Ocala area) and join them. They were very tempted to knock off the troops, but they held off, wondering where the devil Osceola was." In the cold December weather, the troops managed to ford the Little Hillsborough, the Big Hillsborough and branches of the Withlacoochee. After crossing the last water obstacle remaining between them and Fort King, Dade and his men felt a false optimism that they had escaped the worst. "The soldiers had a feeling the bluff had worked," Latimer said. "The first day, they Frank Laumer (center), William Goza (right) and a USF student (left) marched the same route Dade's troops did


had been really nervous. Then, they became less nervous as they went along." A chilly drizzle the sixth morning, north of the Little Withlacoochee, brought another decision that added to the disaster ahead. Major Dade permitted the troops to carry their muskets underneath their greatcoats, in order to shield them from the rain. "Dry powder wasn't much use in a wet chamber," Latimer pointed out, but he noted also that the weapons would not be at the ready in case of a surprise attack. Yet another decision contributed to the impending catastrophe. For some reason, Major Dade chose not to send out "flankers" that Monday morning, Dec. 28, 1835. The men who scouted for signs of trouble on the flanks of the main body were in the main body that day. Yet this was a basic precaution in the Army's training maneuvers. Ransom Clark later recalled Dade's words: "Have a good heart. Our difficulties and dangers are over now, and as soon as we arrive at Fort King you'll have three days' rest, and keep Christmas gaily." This was another burst of misplaced optimism, as the troops trudged through tunnellike sawgrass, still 40 miles from Fort King. As Latimer described what happened next, "a single rifle shot burst the silence." He continued: "Those in the front ranks of the double file who looked to the major gaped in horror. Francis Dade, broad shoulders erect, slumped gently in his saddle like a bag of grain cut in the middle. His elbows, projecting just past his hips as he held the reins, slid forward to his lap, and his black Reproduction courtesy Historical Association of Southern Florida Artist Kenneth C. Hughs illustrates the ambush of the soldiers en route to Fort King.


beard touched the mane of his horse as though in a last brush of affection. His body fell to the side, one black boot dragging across the saddle, silver spur gleaming, and then he was gone a bullet in his heart and dead before he touched the ground." The slaughter had started. Darting up from the protective cover of the high grass and palmetto, 180 Indians focused a barrage of gunfire on the troops. "Surprise was the devastating thing," Latimer commented in the interview. "The men were strung out in the only clearing. They were like ducks in a shooting gallery. The Indians would rise up, take aim, shoot and drop into the grass." Almost half the contingent was wiped out in the first blasts of gunfire. The stunned survivors fumbled frantically to reach their weapons and tried to take cover behind trees. The cannoneers at the rear managed to wheel around the six-pounder, aiming blasts of grapeshot cannister wherever they saw an Indian movement. But the Seminoles were concealed and spread out, so the artillery piece proved largely ineffective. After an hour or so, the first onslaught ended, and the Indians withdrew. The few officers still alive rallied the survivors and they succeeded in chopping down and assembling a makeshift breastwork from medium-sized trees. But this defense seemed to play into the Indians' hands, for it concentrated the outnumbered troops into a relatively small space. Although the logs provided some protection when the next attack came, the Indians concentrated on the exposed cannoneers, still firing two rounds a minute, mainly into the pine trees. The 30 soldiers who manned the breastwork were being picked off, one by one. Among the last to fall was Captain Gardiner, the man originally slated to command the expedition. The firing kept going on and on, with Ransom Clark still aiming his musket despite three wounds. Finally, with a fourth bullet popping into his right shoulder and penetrating a lung, Clark "rolled on his face, lay still," according to Laumer. When the guns were silenced, Clark "played dead." The Indian leaders, Micanopy, Jumper and Alligator, advanced into the log redoubt picking up weapons and some accouterments. A grisly scene described by Laumer occurred as the Indians surveyed the white bodies. "A figure suddenly rose up, smeared with blood and yellow teeth bared in a soundless shout," he wrote. "His rising from the dead transfixed the intruders, and while they stared he snatched a rifle from the hand of Jumper's cousin and in a single motion swung it up by the long barrel and back down across the blackhaired skull of the Indian. The heavy butt-plate drove through bone and brains, the momentum sprawling the body into the sand." The soldier dashed across the log wall, but was soon cut off and shot down by two Indians on horseback. Of the 180 Indians involved in the attack, only three were counted dead. After the weapons were collected, the Seminoles turned over the battle area to about 50 blacks, runaway slaves and allies. Clark said they picked up the axes used to fell the trees and used them to chop at the


bodies. "Every throat that moaned was cut, and every heart that beat was stabbed," Laumer wrote. Ransom Clark was rolled over and robbed of his coat and boots. But his wounds appeared so critical, the scavengers scorned the effort to hack him to death. One last bullet was fired into his shoulder, though. Clark regained consciouness about 9 o'clock that night, long after the attackers and the plunderers had abandoned the battlefield. Somehow he managed to pull himself within reach of canteens containing water. As he crawled to leave the area, he found a warm body, that of Edwin De Courcy. Able to arouse him, Clark got De Courcy to join him in a tortuous effort to return to Fort Brooke. As they stumbled southward, De Courcy aided the more seriously wounded Clark. But at noon the next day, a single Indian on horseback rode up. Clark took to the underbrush on one side of the road, De Courcy the other. The Indian followed De Courcy and killed kim. Clark eluded him, continued his agonized trek to Tampa. The rugged private from upstate New York made it to safety. Despite debilitating bullet wounds, including a cracked pelvis, he came within a mile of Fort Brooke and collapsed. In the crude hospital of that day, he recovered sufficiently well enough that he was able to join the contingent headed by Gen. Edmund Pendleton Gaines which marched to the battle site two months later. After the massacre of Dec. 28, 1835, word eventually drifted back that Osceola had struck the same day at Fort King. The Indian agent Gen. Wiley Thompson and several others were killed while eating a meal. Frank Laumer holds a "deep admiration and respect" for the man he portrays in reenacting the story of Ransom Clark. Although he has been criticized for having Clark's bones exhumed, he justifies the act by saying it was necessary to confirm Clark's accounts, which had seemed almost incredible. His escape was "so unbelievable," Latimer said. "With all those other men dead, it seems unbelievable he could have had all those bullets in him and crawled all that distance (about 60 miles)." Now that the injuries have been confirmed by a disinterested pathologist, Laumer believes there's no room for doubt. He feels an obligation as well to the rest of the men who died in the Dade Massacre. "I'm concerned about their struggle, and I want to tell it in the most truthful way. They just disappeared, but they ought to be remembered and they ought to be remembered correctly." Although the author is doing all in his power to revive the memories of the Army men who died, he makes it plain that his overall sympathies rest with the Seminoles who were being dislodged from their lands. "Basically, my sympathies and those of any rational observer are with the Indians," he told me. "Between the whites and the Indians, certainly I was with the Indians. They were the injured party in the whole affair. But that doesn't keep one from having sympathy for the men cast into the roles of fighting them." The lack of a written history from the Indian participants left it "difficult to make much of the battle from the Indian viewpoint," he acknowledged. The oral tradition simply didn't provide much background.


When, in 1962, he and William Goza walked the same road the troops marched in 1835, they met several Seminole Indians brought to the scene by a Miami Herald reporter. When Laumer and Goza asked the Seminoles if they knew any details of the battle, the Indians referred them to their agent, a white man. Laumer's quest for details is yet unquenched, although he hopes his book revision will benefit by the insights he has gained in recent years. Although the Dade Massacre gained some attention from the American public at the time it happened, it was overshadowed by another event that occurred two months later in 1835 the Battle of the Alamo.


A Civil War Letter From Capt. James McKay By ROBERT A. TAYLOR The winter of 1864 was a grim time for the embattled people of the Confederacy. Their armies were slowly being pushed back into the heartland of the fledgling nation, from which there could be no retreat. Dreams of a collapse of the North's will to continue the contest, along with foreign intervention or the breaking of the stranglehold of the Union naval blockade, were growing dim. But the South still had powerful armies in the field, and with them the hope that they could provide the victories that would secure independence. No campaigns or great battles loomed in January of 1864; the respective -armies remained inactive. Only the scattered raids of guerrilla bands disturbed the brief respite. South Florida also enjoyed what passed for a lull in the bitter struggle being waged there. Capt. James McKay took advantage of the moment to write to his superior officer and bring him up-to-date on the activities in the region. McKay, a prominent resident of Tampa, commanded the Fifth Confederate Commissary District. This area encompassed the bulk of South Florida and included Hernando, Hillsborough, Manatee, Polk, Brevard, Dade, and Monroe counties. McKay was concerned with the production, collection, and shipment of foodstuffs for the use of the southern armies. The primary product of this region was beef cattle, on which the armies of Generals Braxton Bragg and P.G.T. Beauregard depended. With the loss of beef from Texas after the fall of Vicksburg, South Florida became the largest single source of cattle in the Confederacy east of the Mississippi. Florida beef fed Southerners in Savannah and Charleston, and sustained Union prisoners-of-war in camps like Andersonville. No one knew better how vital the work of James McKay was than the Chief Commissary of Florida, Pleasant. W. White. White had been a lawyer in Quincy before the war and now held one of the most important posts in the entire Confederacy. Capt. James McKay at a later age


He was the government's chief purchasing agent for farm products in Florida. White picked McKay in the summer of 1863 for his knowledge of the cattle business, gained in the pre-war trade with Cuba. The Scottish immigrant had proven his loyalty to the South when he had been captured trying to smuggle arms and ammunition through the blockade in 1861. Major White knew that the man chosen for this assignment would have to use his own initiative in many instances, the lines of communication with South Florida being tenuous at best. The man would have to be a leader and have the respect of the community at large. No one fit the bill better than Capt. James McKay. McKay's letter of Jan. 7, 1864, gives us a capsule glimpse of what the Civil War in South Florida was like. The constant threat of Federal raids from the sea and the disruption of a frontier society by internecine warfare are evident. The problems of moving supplies in a state that lacked both roads and rail lines plagued both men until the end of the war. Bureaucratic snarls and personality clashes hampered operations upon which thousands of Southern soldiers depended for their meager rations. Despite all the obstacles, South Florida beef remained a part of those rations until the guns fell silent in 1865. And men like James McKay would survive to build a new Florida from the ashes of the old. The letter follows. Office of 5th Dist Commissary Dept Tampa Fla January 7th 1864 Major P.W. White Dear Sir We have pretty good authority that the enemy is to make an attack upon us at Charlotte Harbor and Tampa and that soon, from all accounts their determination is to break up our Cattle business. Now from the poor Condition of the cattle, as also the poor pasture on the way to be had, I thought it wrong to continue operations longer than those now on the way are delivered. The party of 15 hands I had on the Kissimee to try and obtain some fine Cattle there returned last night, without effecting anything owing to the Kissimee being so high, they tried for some time to make them swim and drowned 9 Head in the attempt and had to leave them, which I will do until the River is sufficiently low. And then probably get them now as the enemy is threatening us and the government is unable to lend us assistance. I mean to give what help I can of men for Pickett duty to Capt. Westcott, he also has sent some men to Peas Creek and the Miaka River. He was to Recointre and Report if any appearred. Last week a party of some 20 of the enemy headed by one Enoch Daniels, a Floridian, Came ashore with a Boat or Boats at the Miaka River for the purpose of Killing or Capturing our Cow Boys, fortunately five of the enemy deserted and Came and informed our Cow Boys who returned with the deserters and before day break fired and little doubt killed some of them, but our Men had to Retire' with one wounded in the arm. The 5 deserters from the enemy called to see me yesterday in their way to Tampa to Report to Capt. Westcott. They confirm the Report, that it is the intention of the enemy


to destroy the Cattle business with the assistance of the traitors from us who have joined them, under the Circumstances, I must give with my men all the aid I can and is now carrying out that. Genl. Finnegan had wrote me in answer to a letter I sent you some time ago in relation to more protection for the frontier. I sent through the country a copy of Genl. Finnegan's letter that is on Peas Creek, the few people left are alive to their interests and duty, so that I think with the assistance of my Men we will be able to give them a bold front, should they appear. If they are to show themselves at all I would prefer them doing so now when we might be operating with the cattle business. The powder, lead and caps for Indians have never got this length yet, which prevents my sending driving teams until all go together. It is really too bad the negligence of those R.R. Agents. Mr. Baldwin sent me 4 times Rice, one of which received and is perfectly Rotten musty and worthless. It is really too bad to pay transportation on such, he sent me invoices and receipts as being in good order and of course believing so signed his receipts and sent them as stated quality good. This is perfect robbery. The ordnance officer from Quincy sent me Receipts for Powder, lead, and caps. But when I receive them I will receipt for them, as I do not intend to be asleep again and believe every one. In the Hog business you requested me to forward them to Col. Summers to Bacons Agent there who would Receipt for them to me, as no one could be had to keep up and feed them until a good many was obtained. I had to heard them as best I could and did so. Now to My surprise I have to go and look for my Receipts from Quitman Ga. this is what Summers tells me. Such conduct is really too bad, if so told at first I would properly prepare for it. Summers has acted so in matters with me. If Stubbs is continued and retained in person at Madison, I can I think get things arranged satisfactorily with him, and in future will not like to deliver any property at any other point except Madison out of my District, unless having an Agent of my own to act at such place. As for instance Major Malloy only receipts to me for the cattle he received at Charleston the Cattle is sent by contract to Stockton, No Agent. I pay the Contractor for number delivered there, and before they arrive at Charleston several dies or is killed and no one to take charge interested. Now in a lot of 407 Head delivered at Stockton I only receive Receipts from Malloy for 400, My son is on his way up to Charleston and may trace it up, probably. It is true in the hurry of our organization that every thing required could not be done But in obeying orders and deficiencies of this kind arise on me (it wont do). If my health would have permitted and the business allow me I would have been glad to have gone up the Country and taken My few Negroes with me and place them in some safer place than this. I have given an order on you in favor of my son for $100,000 which please honor. He will call at Tallahassee on his way back from Charleston, S.C. and will see you or Major Noyes either will do I presume. With Kind Regards I am Major Your most ob. servant James McKay Agt 5th Dist Comm Dept Tampa Fla


PS-Our Mail from Gainsville to Tampa is badly conducted, it is made up of 3 Contractors. Now if the mail from Gainsville is not in at scedule at Ocala the Contractor leaves for Brooksville and then the same act is committed and our Mails lay over to the injury of the different depts as also the Public at large. I think a Representation of this by yourself or Genl. Finnegan to the P.O. dept at Richmond so the matter would be corrected.


Incentives Helped To Build West Tampa By ARSENIO M. SANCHEZ Not until Henry B. Plant brought his railroad across Florida to Tampa in 1884 did the then small village make a unified effort to attract manufacturing. When engineer Gavino Guiterrez suggested Tampa as a site to Vicente Martinez Ybor and Ignacio Haya for their cigar factories, they met a receptive, newly organized Board of Trade. The community leadership agreed to put up $4,000 as a part payment on the land, and Ybor City was assured. And the town's only bank forerunner of the First Florida Bank decided there was a future here. By 1886, an amazing prosperity began to transform Tampa. Businessman decided to extend their investments. Hugh Campbell Macfarlane, a canny Scottish lawyer in town only a few years, began assembling land west of the Hillsborough River with the idea of forming a company to help develop a new cigar manufacturing area. (At that time all the area west of the river was designated as West Tampa. It was not until later that the name and exact location of West Tampa were definitely established.) As a result of a Key West strike in the fall of 1889 the factory of A. Del Pino and Company suffered the loss of tobacco on hand, causing the factory to cease operation temporarily. Sometime between 1890 and 1892 the Del Pino brothers made their way to West Tampa. Hu g h C. Macfarlane An g el L. Cuesta


By 1892 Macfarlane was offering to construct buildings and to donate land for cigar factories to those proprietors who might want to establish their businesses in West Tampa. A. (for Antonio) Del Pino and Company arrived about that time, the first to accept his offer. The Del Pino factory at Main Street and Howard Avenue was finished and making the first cigars in West Tampa by June 15, 1892. The survey of West Tampa made for Macfarlane and dated April 7, 1892, shows the first 120 acres he purchased Nov. 27, 1886. It designates the major north-south street as Pino Avenue (which later became Howard Avenue). Two other streets were given the Del Pino brothers' first names, Gaspar and Antonio. In August of 1892, while Gaspar Del Pino was visiting his sick mother in Key West, he rounded up more cigar workers for his factory, and they returned to Tampa with him. With the opening of this first cigar factory in West Tampa, a section of the growing area was called "Pino City." When a fire hit West Tampa in April 1904, the section along Howard Avenue from Chestnut to Pine Streets was called Pino City. A. Del Pino and Company failed financially, and the factory building was returned to Macfarlane July 23, 1894. The O'Halloran Cigar Company, also a Key West firm, occupied the factory building Dec. 3, 1894. It burned Oct. 3, 1901, with Francisco Milian, the mayor of West Tampa, among those witnessing the blaze (West Tampa had no fire department at the time). The center of things in West Tampa-Main Street at Howard Avenue-in 1911.


Another factory from Key West opened its doors on the west bank of the Hillsborough River by the end of 1892, Julius Ellinger and Co. This gave employment to hundreds of workers. A small community called "El Barrio de Elinche" Ellinger's Community grew up by the side of the factory closest to Tampa's downtown business district. Close to this new cigar factory Macfarlane and his partners financed a bridge across the Hillsborough River, the iron Fortune Street drawbridge. And to enable workers living east of the river to commute (as well as to help downtown merchants), the Macfarlane Company helped start a streetcar route from downtown Tampa into West Tampa, as part of the Consumers Electric Light and Power Company system. This company already had linked downtown to Ybor City, so this made it much easier to travel from West Tampa to Ybor City. The founders and principal stockholders of Consumers were Vicente Martinez Ybor, his son Eduardo, and Eduardo Manrara. In 1892 the building of new factories in Ybor City was at a standstill. No factories had been started for several years, and no efforts were then going on to attract new manufacturers to Tampa. But with the development of West Tampa, a new impetus was given to the cigar industry. Business leaders in Ybor City, not wishing to be outdone by their young neighbor, began offering inducements to new manufacturers also. Thus, the entire Tampa area reaped the benefit. West Tampa's pace picked up in 1893, with establishment of another new factory, C.F. Arnsworth and Company. Gradually a stream of important companies solidified the industry: Cuesta-Rey (1896); Berriman Brothers, which later became Morgan Cigar Co. (1903); A. Santaella (1904); Pendas and Alvarez (1909) and others. By 1900 cigar manufacturing was Florida's leading industry. Many small homes for cigar workers were needed near the factories. George Benjamin constructed numerous $400 houses within walking distance of commercial and employment centers. On a more elegant level, a contract was let to J.H. Drew on April 27, 1894, to build five residences ranging in price from $1,250 to $2,000. One of the homes was for cigar manufacturer Teodoro Perez, another for his brother and still another for his factory foreman. Two others were built for manufacturers named Pompez and Napolis, who had factories off Main Street. Within the cigar industry, an unusual occupation developed "el lector" (the reader). These men read news and literature in Spanish to the factory workers. Highly regarded in the community, the lectores were paid by the workers who contributed weekly sums collected by an intermediary, "el presidente." The collections at times amounted to $80 a week for the reader. In July 1894 the Macfarlane Investment Company was reorganized with a capital stock of $100,000. The firm owned 307 lots situated near the business center of West Tampa. Directors were realtor William B. Henderson, Congressman Stephen M. Sparkman, contractor J.H. Drew, attorney N.B. Pettingill (Macfarlane's brother-in-law) and businessman George Rae Macfarlane (his brother). The Tampa Tribune, on Dec. 21, 1894, commented, "The cigar industry of our city is the leading factor in our phenomenal prosperity. $75,000 was paid out for wages last week."


FERNANDO FIGUEREDO arrived in West Tampa in 1894, a hero of the Ten Years War in Cuba. Elected first mayor of the municipality, he served June 21, 1895-June 3, 1897. After the war with Spain, he became Treasurer of Cuba. GEORGE NELSON BENJAMIN, mayor 1897-1901, came to Tampa in 1875, was a West Tampa developer, bringing in cigar factories and donating land for a park which became the eventual site for Fort Homer Hesterly. He was a native of Indiana. Six of West Tampa's Mayors


FRANCISCO MILIAN was elected to nine 1-year terms as mayor beginning June 3, 1901. A lector (reader) at Bustillo Brothers and Diaz cigar factory, he resigned in a dispute. After a sympathy strike and general outcry, he was restored as lector and as mayor. PEREGRINO REY, mayor 1909-1910, served as president of the West Tampa City Council 16 years. He joined A.L. Cuesta in forming Cuesta-Rey in West Tampa. Rey Park was named in his honor. In 1913 he was decorated by King Alfonso of Spain.


BLAS F. O'HALLORAN, mayor 1917-1921, also served as councilman several terms. A Key West native, he came to Tampa at age 13. O'Halloran was a Selective Service registrar in World War I, in later years with Lord and Fernandez Funeral Home. ENRIQUE HENRIQUEZ was West Tampa's last mayor, serving 1921-1924, until West Tampa joined Tampa. Born in Cuba, he held managerial positions, then became owner o f Henriquez Cigar Co. in 1917. A councilman since 1907, he was elected mayor without opposition Photographs were not available of Hugh Brady, mayor 1910-1912, or of James D. Macfarlane, mayor 1912-1917.


In 1895 Macfarlane joined forces with other investors, including Lee Skinner, Philip Collins, George Benjamin and C.B. Bouton, combining his 200-acre tract of real estate with his associates' 800 acres. Skinner offered lots at moderate prices, with 20 percent down and monthly payments suited to the workers' wages. Although the City of Tampa made several efforts to annex West Tampa, Macfarlane led opposition to a merger. Although Ybor City had joined Tampa in 1887, West Tampa chose to remain independent. On May 18, 1895, a bill passed the State Legislature creating West Tampa as a municipality. The population was officially set at 2,815. The new city elected Fernando Figueredo as its first mayor. Years before, Figueredo had been a state senator from Monroe County. He had arrived in West Tampa in 1894, a hero of the Ten-Year War in Cuba. A bookkeeper in the O'Halloran factory, he was a close friend of Jose Marti. The O'Halloran factory proved to be a place of significance in the Cuban struggle for independence from Spain. A message with orders to start the revolution in 1895 was rolled into a fine panetela cigar by co-owner Blas O'Halloran. Gonzalo de Quesada managed to pass the cigar through customs in Havana, then taking the message to Gen. Juan Gualberto Gomez signaling the start of new fighting. Figueredo led numerous collections for the Cuban cause in West Tampa factories. After his term as mayor and following the end of the Spanish-American War in 1898, he returned to Cuba. There he became treasurer of the newly created nation. Men of differing national origins took part in the governing of West Tampa. Cuban, Spanish, Italian and Anglos were elected to office and had a voice in the development of the city. Police officers were installed following passage of an ordinance March 10, 1898. In 1901, Macfarlane warded off another attempt to bring West Tampa into the City of Tampa by annexation. Since no public school was started in West Tampa until 1905, earlier education efforts took place in private homes or in church sponsored schools. Sisters of the Holy Name bought lots in Block 56 of Macfarlane Addition from the Macfarlane Investment Company for $3,600 Dec. 9, 1895. The Academy of Holy Names was erected on Albany and Spruce and opened Sept. 14, 1896. Sisters Mary Emeline and Mary Hubert were the first teachers in the brick school. Average attendance was 46. First Mass was said in the second floor chapel Nov. 29, 1896. In that first year Bishop Moore came from St. Augustine and confirmed 11 children. Several months, during the Spanish-American War in 1898, the academy was used as a hospital. The first public school was built in 1905 on Tampania between Pine and Cherry Streets. It was named in honor of Angel L. Cuesta, because of his efforts in behalf of education, in 1911. The school continued in use until 1979, and was demolished after a fire in 1984. The St. Joseph Catholic Church began in West Tampa in the late 1890s as a mission of the downtown Sacred Heart Church, with


the Jesuit Order in charge. A contract for $15,000 was let for the building of a plain, wooden structure at Albany and Walnut Street. St. Joseph Church opened in its new building May 3, 1903, with Father Benjamin Roydhouse as its first active pastor. The dedication followed on May 24, 1903. In 1964 new facilities were built at 3012 Cherry Street, near Gomez, and the old church was torn down. The bell from the old church was brought to the new facility. From 1895 to 1925, West Tampa grew and prospered. Buildings were constructed to house necessary educational, recreational and benevolent organizations and institutions. In many ways, it became a self-sufficient community economically and socially. The commercial district centered around the intersection of Main Street and Howard Avenue. It extended from Howard to Albany Avenue on Main Street, and between Walnut and Nassau Streets on Howard. The people who made up West Tampa could be clearly seen in the dedication of the Free Public Library on Howard Avenue, donated by Andrew Carnegie, on Jan. 1, 1914. American flags were intertwined with the Spanish, Cuban and Italian colors. Speeches alternated from one language to another in the program formally opening the library. Songs were sung in English, Spanish and Italian. As West Tampa's business progressed, its city limits expanded to include new homes, and streets and stores took on a better look. Around 1907, a new subdivision known as "Los Cien" (the One Hundred) was formed. Old timers say it was given this name because 100 families were to pool their money and build homes. In a reorganization dated Sept. 12, 1912 shares were sold in a corporation at $1,000 each and capital was set at $75,000. Full name was Labor Society For Building "Los Cien." A member could pay as little as $1.75 a week or as much as he desired. This continued until he paid the full amount for his house. Near West Tampa's southern city limits, a section was developed that was called "Cacarajicara," for a village and tribe of Indians in Cuba. This area was just south of today's Interstate 275. On Jan. 11, 1913, the Centro Espanol Clubhouse at Howard Avenue and Cherry Street opened the largest and finest of the men's clubs in the city. This was one of four Centro Espanol buildings in the city, the others being the Ybor City clubhouse and theater, the Ybor City clinic La Benefica and the Bayshore hospital. Spanish Minister Juan Riano Gayangos was present at the opening. Centro Espanol had been created in 1891 by farsighted men who forsaw the need for medical, recreation, entertainment and social facilities in Ybor City and West Tampa. Its cooperative social medicine plan was one of the first in the United States. The World War 1 (1914-1918) economy contributed greatly to the growth of the cigar industry generally, and there were 20,000 people employed in more than 100 factories in West Tampa and Ybor City. During the 1920s the industry continued growing, with peaks in 1923 (when more than 500 million cigars were made in Tampa) and again in 1929 (when a new record was set). Payrolls averaged $900,000 a month, rising over $1 million a month in top periods.


Immigration laws underwent drastic changes following World War I, and 1921 quotas limited the numbers of immigrants to 3 percent of that nationality already living in the United States. The Immigration Act of 1924 lowered the quota even further, to 2 percent. The number of Spanish immigrants was reduced to just 131 a year, and Cuban immigration almost ceased. Foreign workers were virtually denied admission. Thus, the Act cut off the infusion of Spanish, Cubans and Italians that had added to the vitality of various nationality groups. West Tampa came to an end as a separate entity on Jan. 1, 1925, when it was annexed into the City of Tampa. Enrique Hernandez, last mayor of West Tampa, relinquished power at a banquet held at El Pasaje restaurant in Ybor city. West Tampa was "handed over to the City of Tampa on a silver platter." Col. Hugh Macfarlane, in his speech, said, "We bring you a city in excellent financial condition. We have worked hard to build West Tampa and will work just as hard to build Tampa." He concluded: "We will make Tampa the metropolis of the South, as it was intended to be." During World War II, many persons left West Tampa, but the mass movement of families from Ybor City to West Tampa more than made up the difference. At war's end, West Tampa's population had doubled, from 5,000 to 11,000. But while population grew, as the years went by, many homes and business establishments began to deteriorate and fall into disrepair. In recent years, organizations such as the West Tampa Revitalization Corporation, Inc., West Tampa Business Center, Community Redevelopment Agency and the City of Tampa's Office of Redevelopment have recognized the need to reverse the trend. These organizations, along with other local agencies, are looking for ways to revitalize the blighted areas in West Tampa. Low interest loans and tax credits are among the incentives they are offering to those wanting to rehabilitate older buildings. Thus, incentives once a means of bringing in cigar factories are now being turned into a method for reviving a changed area still prideful of its past.


Former Governor Collins Wins D.B. McKay Award This year's recipient of Tampa Historical Society's prestigious D.B. McKay Award for service in the cause of Florida history is former Governor LeRoy Collins of Tallahassee. Author of the book, Forerunners Courageous, about figures in the Florida frontier period, Collins now writes a weekly column of historical significance in the St. Petersburg Times. Governor when the University of South Florida was created, he has placed his papers with the USF Special Collections Library. LeRoy Collins, a native of Leon County, became governor of Florida in 1955 after serving three terms in the House of Representatives and two in the State Senate. His six years in the governorship saw Florida confronted with the issues of desegregation, and his moderate stands on civil rights averted some of the turmoil that struck other Southern states. Later he became director of Community Relations under the Civil Rights Act and helped avoid bloodshed in a march at Selma, Ala., in 1965 (however, his stand there became a factor in his defeat in the 1968 U.S. Senate race against Republican Ed Gurney). At the national level, Collins also served as UnderSecretary of Commerce and later as president of the National Association of Broadcasters. Although past the usual retirement age, Governor Collins continues to practice law in Tallahassee. Governor LeRoy Collins


Watrous Doll House On Display By BETTY PHIPPS Between 1890 and 1897, Mary, Margaret and Louise were born to Nannie Givens and Harry James Watrous while they were living at 801 Madison Street in Tampa. Around 1900, their father built a doll house out of scrap lumber and the family began adding furniture and accessories little by little through the years. Much of the furniture was made from cigar boxes: the headboard of the bed and the back of a dresser mirror clearly show the box stamp. Harry Watrous built one of the first homes in Hyde Park at 1301 Morrison Avenue, where the girls lived until they married. Two brothers were born in that house, Harry Jr. and Tom. No doubt the girls had the usual troubles with little brothers messing up their things. Mary married Robert L. James of Lexington, Ky., and moved to his ante bellum home, Walnut Lawn, on Military Turnpike. Margaret received her nurse's training at Henry Grady Hospital in Atlanta. She was a well-known and beloved nurse in Tampa for many years. Late in life, she married Frank Langley of Tampa. Louise married Claibourne M. Phipps and they had two sons, Dick and Harry. The doll house stayed on Morrison Avenue until Louise and Claibourne moved to their home on Davis Islands. It was always available for relatives and neighborhood children to entertain themselves while grown-ups were visiting. After Claibourne's death, Louise Phipps moved to South Dakota Avenue, where the doll house was kept on a sleeping porch, just Original owners of the doll house were (left to right) Mary, Louise and Margaret Watrous. Doll house has been refurbished


off the kitchen. There, a new generation of nieces, nephews and grandchildren enjoyed the "funny" house. When she moved to a small apartment, Louise Phipps gave the house to the Tampa Junior Museum with the stipulation that it be in reach of the children. It had to be played with. When the Museum closed in 1979, Catherine Ortmeyer Healy graciously stored the house in her attic and the furniture was neatly packed. Now the doll house has a new home at the Knight Cottage of the Tampa Historical Society. The house has been painted, the furniture reglued and polished, and it is ready for a new imaginary family to move in and make it into a home. Like most restored homes, it needs everything: curtains, lamps, rugs, dishes, pictures, books, toys, whatever is found in a real home, but all in miniature. Antique buffs and doll lovers of all ages are asked to go through their belongings with an eye to the small, small world of make-believe. Contributions of furnishings for the house will be catalogued as to name of donor, history of object plus any data the owner feels would add to the historical value of the house.


Tampas Most Raucous Roarin Decade: The 1920s By HAMPTON DUNN The Roarin' Twenties is the label usually applied to the noisy days of the decade of the 1920s. Paul Sann wrote a fine book on those times which he entitled, The Lawless Decade. The period was dubbed "The Jazz Age" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. And journalism's angry man, Westbrook Pegler, gave it the colorful tab of "The Era of Wonderful Nonsense." To others, it was the Whoopee Era, the Age of Hoopla, "the Get-Rich-Quick Era," and sports writers raved about the 20s as "The Golden Age" of sports. Florida and Tampa were in the spotlight during those zany times because of the incredible Florida real estate boom when speculators and tourists discovered our great state and poured in here in their Tin Lizzies, and by train and by ship. In Tampa, the decade opened on an unhappy note and ended on one. At the beginning there was a recession following the prosperous days of World War 1, a time when our shipyards were bustling and economic conditions were upbeat. More than 5,000 men were employed by Oscar Daniels Company and Tampa Dock Company. So, when the shipyards closed with the cease of hostilities, the bottom fell out in this community. Tampa's gloom in late 1920 was increased by the business depression which prevailed throughout the nation. The depression, or recession, was short-lived, thankfully, but it was acute while it lasted. By the fall of 1921, the worst of the business slowdown was over. But, alas, in the meantime, another calamity hit. A general strike in the cigar industry was called. Cigar making, of course, was the -From Hampton Dunn CollectionColleen Moore grew up in Tampa as Kathleen Morrison.


leading business of the Cigar City. And for 10 months, the industry was prostrated by the walkout. It has been reported that the cigar manufacturers were trying to weaken or destroy the cigar makers' union, which they felt was making unreasonable demands for shorter working hours and higher wages. (Since 1915, the cost of living had increased by 135 percent while wages in the cigar industry had advanced by only 12 percent.) The International Cigar Makers' Union called the general strike on April 14, 1920. More than 7,600 men quit work. The factories closed; 3,500 other employees were out of work. Without the large cigar payroll, all businesses in Tampa were hurt. The city was paralyzed. The strike did not end until early in 1921. The union paid out nearly $1 million in strike benefits and found itself near bankruptcy. The 10-month strike was the longest and costliest labor disruption in the industry's history. In the end, the manufacturers won a victory the cigar makers were forced to accept an open shop. Tampa's population at the beginning of the decade was 51,608 way above the nose count of Miami, a small town which could boast only 30,000 in the 1920 census. Hillsborough County had 88,257 when the period began. Restless Tampans voted on Oct. 19, 1920, to discard the old councilmanic form of city government after a bitter fight. The city manager form of government was favored. Five outstanding men were chosen as city commissioners to direct the city's affairs at an election on Dec. 7. Charles H. Brown -From Hampton Dunn CollectionThe Hurricane of 1921 devastated streetcar tracks along Bayshore Boulevard.


became mayor-commissioner. The other commissioners were W.A. Adams, W.J. Barritt, V.V. Sharpe, and Maj. Henry E. Snow. Sumter L. Lowry, a leader in the fight for a change, and Dr. L. A. Bize became commissioners in 1921. The progressive system did much to modernize Tampa. The harbor was developed; the city took over the water system; bridges were built over the Hillsborough River at Fortune, Cass, Platt Streets, and Michigan Avenue (Columbus Drive), and the Lafayette Street (Kennedy Boulevard) Viaduct and the 22nd Street Causeway were completed. The new government reconstructed Bayshore Boulevard, took over the Tampa Bay Casino at the Tampa Bay Hotel for a city auditorium, and erected Tampa Municipal Hospital on new-born Davis Islands. But this form of government was voted out by dissatisfied citizens in July, 1927. This came after the collapse of the Florida real estate boom. The city was in the doldrums once again and many residents blamed City Hall for the troubles. Tampa didn't forget Hillsborough County's 106 servicemen heroes who made the supreme sacrifice in World War I. Indeed, on Jan. 2, 1921, solemn ceremonies dedicated "The Road of Remembrance" the first such memorial in the nation. The Rotary Club of Tampa, which beautified the roadside of the highway, spending $7,500 for oak trees, oleanders, and other shrubs, conducted the dedication. Memorial Highway was a 15-foot wide "boulevard" that ran the 13 miles from Howard Avenue, then the Tampa city limits, to the Pinellas County line. It cost $870,000 to build. Tall monuments were erected at either end, and milestones were placed as markers along the way. The shaft at Howard became a traffic hazard as the number of cars moving in the area increased. Shortly before World War II the monument was moved to a spot alongside what is now Kennedy Boulevard near Dale Mabry, in front of the American Legion Cemetery. The memorial road was rededicated in 1948 by the Rotary Club to honor veterans of World War II, as well as the World War I dead. The decade was no sooner getting under way than the city felt the ravages of Mother Nature. On October 21, 1921, a hurricane struck the most violent in the area since the Big Gale of 1848 when a hurricane pushed a fantastic tide of 15 feet into area bays, destroying old Fort Brooke. In 1921 the bad blow shoved tons of water from the Gulf of Mexico to make a tide of 10.5 feet. The barometer fell to 28.29 inches, lowest on record. Rainfall of 6.48 inches in less than 24 hours had preceded the high winds. The seawall along Bayshore Boulevard was destroyed in places and water poured into some of the city's finest homes overlooking the bay. Long stretches of the Ballast Point street car line were undermined. And the popular excursion boat S.S. Favorite was washed ashore at Plant Park. Another wave of great proportions tapped the city in the early 20s with the coming of the so-called Tin Can Tourists, visitors driving homemade mobile trailers and eating out of tin cans. A formal organization, the Tin Can Tourists of the World, was born at DeSoto Park during the 1921-22 season. Annual "convocations" were held for years here and in Arcadia during the winter tourist rush.


When Mayor Charles H. Brown dedicated Radio Station WDAE during a special opening broadcast on May 15, 1922, he called the new medium "the wonder of the age that the human voice can be sent broadcast throughout the country." A miracle indeed! WDAE, owned and operated by The Tampa Daily Times, was the first licensed radio station in Florida, and thus today is one of the oldest operating stations in the country and the oldest in Florida. This new marvel was the first radio station in the U.S. to broadcast a complete church service: On June 4, 1922, from Tampa's historic First Methodist Church. The Rev. William Frederick Dunkle was pastor, and spoke on the subject, "Who Then Can Be Saved?" In 1927 the First Baptist Church became the first congregation in Tampa to broadcast its Sunday services on a regular basis with a one-year contract. Dr. Claude W. Duke was pastor. And it was in 1928 and on WDAE that a local legend in his time began his broadcasting career: Sol Fleischman. He stayed with WDAE until television invaded the city at which time he went with WTVT-TV and wrapped up a career spanning more than 45 years on the air in the same community. Egypt Temple Shrine began its long-running series of Easter Sunrise Services in 1922, staging them at the bandshell in Plant Park for many years, and eventually moving to Al Lopez baseball stadium where they are still held. The services first were broadcast over WDAE in 1925. It was during the sparkling 1920s that one of Tampa's own was shaking up Hollywood as a leading female star in the silent movies. Her name was Colleen Moore, the city's gift to fnindom. Born Kathleen Morrison, she -From Hampton Dunn CollectionWDAE's studios presented live performances in a draped-forsound setting.


grew up here in the teen years, living on Magnolia Avenue. She had a burning ambition from childhood to be a movie star-during the Roarin' Twenties she was just that. F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote: "I was the spark that lit up Flaming Youth ... Colleen Moore was the torch. What little things we are to have caused all that trouble." Colleen went to the Convent of the Holy Names, now called the Academy of the Holy Names. She had a physical distinction: she had one blue eye and one brown eye. In her autobiography, Silent Star, she tells of how she got a break that put her on celluloid: "At church one Sunday in November 1917, 1 heard a verse from the Gospel according to St. Matthew: 'All things whatsoever ye ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.' "I asked Mother if this meant if I prayed and absolutely knew that I was going to be an actress, nothing could stand in my way. My mother hesitated, but only for a minute. 'Yes, darling,' she said. 'If you will thoroughly believe, and ask God's help, I'm sure that somehow a miracle will happen, and God himself will send you to Hollywood.' "The next morning I stopped in at church for a few minutes on my way to school, lighted a candle, and with positive knowledge, prayed for God's help. On the night of the ninth day, my miracle happened ." After supper, Colleen's father got a long distance call from his brother, her uncle, in Chicago. He was Walter Howey, editor of the Chicago Examiner, a Hearst newspaper. It seems Howey had done a big favor for D.W. Griffith, the movie mogul in Hollywood. Howey had gotten Griffith's movies, The Birth of A Nation and Intolerance past Chicago's Board of Censors. Griffith wanted to do Howey a favor. So Uncle Walter asked him to give his niece in Tampa a screen test. He did, and, as they say, the rest is history. She became a star, all right, and her movies were billed Colleen Moore of Tampa when shown here. One of the most acid-tongued movie critics of the era was George Jean Nathan. He wrote: "To those who believe Colleen Moore is a greater actress than Greta Garbo, I say you go to your church and I'll go to mine." Colleen Moore was the number one box office star in 1926 and 1927. After she accumulated wealth and fame, Colleen Moore put together a real showpiece, a doll house costing a half million of the 1930s'dollars. She carried it on a nationwide tour to raise funds for charities. She showed it here at Maas Brothers in 1938, and I covered the event for The Tampa Daily Times and had lunch with the star. The doll house now reposes in the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. Now in her 80s, the ex-star is the widow of Homer Hargrave, an investment broker, and lives in California. The headlines in the Tampa Morning Tribune were shocking that morning of Washington's birthday in 1922: Capt. Dale Mabry, popular local air hero in World War


1, had perished with most of his crew in the crash of the dirigible Roma the day before. The banners screamed: "34 PERISH WITH DIRIGIBLE ROMA." "Capt. Dale Mabry of Tampa a Victim; Bodies Burned to Crisp When Gas Bag is Exploded by a High Voltage Wire." Mabry had been one of the officers sent to Italy to pick up the Roma a few months before. The giant 410-foot dirigible had been purchased from Italy for $200,000 to help build up the fleet of the U.S. Air Service. Mabry was piloting the craft the afternoon of February 21 when it collapsed and struck a network of 2,200-volt high tension wires near Norfolk. When Mabry's body was recovered from the crash scene, his hands were still grasping the wheel of the airship. A native of Tallahassee, Dale Mabry moved to Tampa and was in the real estate business with his brothers, Giddings E. Mabry and Milton H. Mabry, Jr. He served in France during World War I in the Air Service and made the Army a career afterwards. Busy, crowded Dale Mabry Highway is named in honor of Capt. Dale Mabry. It was -From Hampton Dunn CollectionGandy Bridge linked Tampa and St. Petersburg in 1924.


built during World War II to connect two major air force installations, MacDill Field and Drew Field. Some other happenings in Tampa in the early 1920s: West Tampa's Macfarlane Park was dedicated on Jan. 1, 1921. In 1923 Tampa's city limits were extended to include Sulphur Springs, the same year Josiah Richardson, a colorful entrepreneur arrived. First he built the Nebraska Hotel, better known as the Sulphur Springs Hotel and Arcade. It was our first shopping mall, what with its hotel, apartments, the Springs Cafe, Whitehead's Drug Store, Piggly Wiggly store, bakery, pool ball, barber shop, and a branch of the Sheriff's office. Indeed, Robert L. Ripley featured the unique structure in his Believe It or Not! cartoon, claiming it to be the world's only city under one roof. Those were the rip-roaring days of prohibition, the era of the speakeasy and the moonshine stills. Tampa had its share of them. On Jan. 24, 1924, the staid Rotary Club of Tampa staged its annual Press Breakfast. In announcing it, the president, Teddy Nott, pleaded: "Please, fellows, leave your hip flasks at home when you attend the Press Breakfast." -From Hampton Dunn CollectionTamiami Trail route presented plenty of rough going


"Dad" Gandy's dream of a bridge across Old Tampa Bay was labeled a "wild, visionary scheme" at its inception. The skeptics, the scoffers, and the kibitzers had a field day at the expense of the Yankee-bred George S. Gandy when he started talking about his project, but the grand old gentleman lived to bask in the plaudits of those who said it couldn't be done. On Nov. 20, 1924, Gandy gave one of the briefest, and perhaps best, speeches at a dedication just four words: "The bridge is built!" His dream started in 1904. He was about to get it going when World War I intervened. After the war he couldn't get financing, so he decided to "go public." Promoter Eugene M. Elliott put on a razzle-dazzle sales blitz and sold $2 million in stock in 122 days. Gov. Cary A. Hardee came down for the opening, and Sara Keller Hobbs "Miss Tampa" cut the ribbon. Prior to the opening of this toll span, it took several hours by slow-moving automobile to make the long trip around the north end of the bay and then journey down to St. Petersburg. Gandy Bridge became an important link between Tampa and St. Petersburg. The tolls stayed on until 1944 during World War II. Then U.S. Senator Claude Pepper was engaged in a heated campaign for re-election and needed a "gimmick" to bail him out of trouble. He seized on the goal of freeing Gandy Bridge and Davis Causeway for military personnel commuting between Tampa and the beaches. He called on his pal, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, to use his war powers to confiscate the bridge. FDR did and Pepper was re-elected -From Hampton Dunn CollectionBachman's "Million-Dollar Band" entertained for several winter seasons at Plant Park.


because of a hefty vote in Hillsborough and Pinellas Counties. The mid '20s truly were exciting times in Tampa and elsewhere in Florida during the real estate boom. Some of the city's most prestigious neighborhoods were developed starting in 1924. A.J. Simms unveiled his New Suburb Beautiful and Parkland Estates. He also altered the downtown skyline by building the tallest structure, the Floridan Hotel a building today dwarfed by the new skyline. Palma Ceia was promoted during these days. So was Temple Terrace on land formerly owned by Chicago's Mrs. Potter Palmer. Forest Hills was subdivided by B.L. Hamner who brought in then world's heavyweight boxing champion, Jack Dempsey, to draw crowds on sales days. The gorgeous Tampa Terrace Hotel went up downtown and the attractive Bayshore Royal Hotel became the Bayshore's first high rise. The old Olive Hotel expanded and changed its name to the Thomas Jefferson Hotel. Col. Wallace F. Stovall, founder of the Tampa Tribune in the 1890s, was a dynamic figure in the city during the boom days. He sold the newspaper to a syndicate in 1925 at which time the circulation totaled 29,100. Then Stovall set about to create a new skyline for the city's downtown. He built the 12-story Wallace S. Building, the 7-story Stovall Office Building and the 8-story Stovall Professional Building. He backed his son, Wallace 0. Stovall in publishing a third daily newspaper for the city, The Tampa Teleqraph, but it survived only eight months. Another newspaper, The Globe, an afternoon tabloid, commenced publication in -From Hampton Dunn CollectionD.P. Davis signed swimmer Helen Wainright to a promotional contract in 1925


November 1925 and suspended publication in June 1926. The First National Bank's 13-story building went up in 1926. West Tampa, which had been incorporated in 1893, was annexed to the City of Tampa in 1925. The most imaginative developer in the boom days was a hometown "boy," D.P. Davis, who put together the Davis Islands development. A one-time carrier boy for The Tampa Daily Times, Davis made money in Miami early in the boom where he saw them dredging in islands and millionaires paying fabulous prices for the new land. Davis got the idea to fill in two grassy keys in sight of downtown Tampa and calling them Davis Islands. He sold lots, 300 of them, yet under water, with first day's sales reaching $1.68 million. His project was an instant success Tampa Municipal Hospital, the Mirasol Hotel, the Palmerin, Davis Islands Coliseum and the Davis Islands Country Club. Davis went to St. Augustine from here and started another enterprise when the boom collapsed and virtually broke him. He decide to take a transatlantic cruise aboard the steamship Majestic. En route he disappeared overboard. His death was debated, whether it was accidental or a suicide. It happened that he had bought a $300,000 life insurance policy from a fledgling firm, the Victory National Life, founded by Sumter L. Lowry and which eventually became Gulf Life Insurance Company. Lowry investigated Davis' death and decided to pay off the policy. Later, he wrote in his memoirs that this act "gave the public a lot of confidence in my brand new insurance company. A thrilling event in the Plant Park bandshell during the mid '20s was the appearance of Col. Harold B. Bachman and his "Million Dollar Band." His was one of the top units in the era of traveling concert bands. It played the winter seasons of 1921-1923 in -From Hampton Dunn CollectionForest Hills Country Club emerged during the boom construction period


the old Flagler Park bandshell in West Palm Beach and moved over to Tampa and Plant Park for the 1925-1927 winter seasons, at the height of the real estate boom. The colonel estimated he conducted more than 900 concerts from these two bandstands. The Tampa contract called for 13 concerts a week. Typical weekday audiences would run about 1,000 in the afternoons and up to 2,500 at the evening concerts. Sunday afternoon audiences of between 4,000-5,000 were not unusual. These Sunday concerts were broadcast over Radio Station WDAE to additional thousands of listeners. During the summer Bachman's band was on the Chautauqua circuit, traveling all over the United States. A part of his agreement with the Tampa Board of Trade was that he would advertise Tampa on his tours. During one summer season, for example, his band played 108 towns in the Southern and Mid-Western states. The Bachman Band contract was not renewed after the 1927 season because the Florida real estate boom had burst. The band got its name from an incident during World War I. Bachman carried his military musicians to France for a tour at the front to entertain the soldiers. A general said after one concert that the music was "worth a million dollars to my men." Bachman also was an Army musician in World War II. After that he became director of Fightin' Gator Band of the University of Florida and was director emeritus when he died in 1972. Some other events of 1926 in Tampa: The 22nd Street Causeway was completed and was named in honor of Panfilo de Narvaez, early Spanish explorer of these parts. The Platt and Cass Street bridges were completed. The original design of the Platt Street bridge resembled that of London bridge with tall buildings on a span forming towers. Contracts also were let that year for the Fortune Street and Michigan Avenue (Columbus Drive) spans. The Municipal Auditorium (now McKay Auditorium) was opened. Airmail service to Tampa was inaugurated to Tampa on April 1, 1926. Mrs. Elizabeth Barnard was the postmaster. "When you realize we can take you, your package or letter from Tampa to Miami in three hours when the fastest train requires almost 14 hours; and when we can travel by air between here and Jacksonville in one-third time it requires by rail, does not this comparison give you an entirely new picture of the many advantages of commercial aviation?" Advertising Brochure Florida Airways, 1926 In 1926, a Tampa-based airline, Florida Airways, was awarded the route between Jacksonville and Miami to carry contract air mail, the first issued in Florida. The postmaster general was authorized to pay $3 per pound per mile for the transportation of mail. Florida Airways was the baby of Capt. Eddie V. Rickenbacker, a World War I "ace." Three of his fellow war buddies, Reed M. Chambers, Ray Brooks and Jack Harding, joined in the venture, which got a big financial assist from Percy A. Rockefeller and other wealthy friends.


The daily service began on April 1, 1926. The firm had a fleet of Ford-Stout monoplanes dubbed, "Miss Tampa," "Miss Fort Myers," "Miss Miami," "Miss Jacksonville" and so forth. The going wasn't easy. Ray Brooks was interviewed by Warren J. Brown, author of Florida's Aviation History in Lakeland in 1980, and recalled: "The Tampa field was supposed to be one mile square and free of tree stumps. Instead, we found a small scale forest. We had to hire prisoners and use employees to dig up the stumps." On a trip into Fort Myers on March 13, 1926, the Miss Tampa was inspected by inventor Thomas A. Edison and his wife, but they did not take a flight. The service of Florida Airways was short-lived. It operated only nine months and carried 939 passengers, flew 282,908 miles, had 12 forced landings and Captain Rickenbacker was a quarter of a million dollars in debt, which he later made good. He was back in Florida nine years later, in 1935, this time as an official and later president of Eastern Air Lines. Billed on its opening as "The South's Most Beautiful Theater," the opulent Tampa Theatre opened on October 15, 1926. It was planned by John Eberson, master of moviepalace architecture. The interior of the Tampa successfully incorporated an exotic "exterior" environment, complete with manufactured stars and clouds, and eclectic combinations of Classical and Mediterranean Revival architecture. When new, the showplace boasted 1,500 seats, a 20-piece orchestra, the "Mighty Wurlitzer" organ first played by Eddie Weaver and later by Eddie Ford, the first commercial air conditioning in Tampa, and 10,000 light bulbs! During the depression of the 1930s, it continued to fill its big auditorium with such crowd-pullers as "Screeno" and "Bank Night." In the 1960s, attendance plunged when suburban theatres drew movie crowds to shopping centers. In 1976, the Smyrna-Halifax Corporation donated the theater to the City of Tampa. A grand re-opening took place on January 22, 1977. The Arts Council now manages and programs the entertainment. The theater is on the National Register of Historic Places. The Roarin' 20s rolled on in 1927 as Josiah Richardson constructed the 225-foot tall Sulphur Springs water tower on Florida Avenue at the Hillsborough River. The entire structure is on solid rock over a boiling spring. Today the tower stores the artesian well-water which still supplies a small area in Sulphur Springs. The Florida Avenue bridge was completed in January, 1927. Prior to this the only means of traffic across the river, going north and south, was over the very narrow bridge on Nebraska Avenue, which was so constructed that traffic going north had to stop to allow south-going cars to pass, and vice versa. A terrible crime enraged the community in 1927. Five members of the Merrill family were murdered by a man named Benjamin Franklin Levins. A crying, one-year-old baby boy was found lying underneath the bed. He evidently had fallen out of bed and was missed by the killer. The public was incensed. A large mob formed outside the Hillsborough County Jail, intent on lynching the murderer. Some


of the mob disarmed police and deputies trying to control the situation. The 116th Field Artillery was called out, with Col. Sumter L. Lowry and Col. Homer W. Hesterly in charge. The situation was described as "completely out of hand" when the troops arrived on the scene. Machine guns were put in place, even the mob had one. Shots were exchanged. The crowd finally became convinced the law meant business and dissipated. In 1927 "Lucky Lindy" Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic Ocean alone in a small plane and landed in Paris, after a 33-hour flight. Other aviators around the country got in on the craze and tried to set new aviation records. So it was that a couple of aerial daredevils from Lakeland schemed to be the first to fly a passenger across the ocean and the passenger was a woman! George Haldeman, a flight instructor, and his beauteous student pilot, Ruth Elder, set out to accomplish this feat. The long journey began from old Drew Field in Tampa on Sept. 12. Congressman J. Herbert Drane came over from Lakeland to wish them well. Finally on Oct. 11, at 5:05 p.m., the couple took off from New York in their American Girl for the transatlantic hop to Paris. The next day their plane developed an oil-tank leak. Realizing they weren't going to make it across the ocean, they looked for a ship, saw the Dutch SS Barendrecht, dropped a note asking for direction, finally abandoned the plane about 250 miles northwest of Cape Finestra, Spain. Haldeman and Miss Elder were rescued by the ship, arrived in Paris to a hero's welcome, and when they returned to the U.S., were met and entertained by President Coolidge in the White House. Haldeman continued active in aviation until his death in 1982. At the time of his passing, he was a consultant on the controversial B-1 bomber. Miss Elder, dubbed the "Miss America of Aviation," made movies, married six times, made a lot of monev and spent it all. She died in 1977, in San Francisco. Tampa got its second high school in 1927: Plant High was built with funds raised by a bond issue in 1925. Hillsborough High moved into its sparkling new Gothic looking building on Central Avenue in 1928. The structure cost $1 million. The HHS-PHS football rivalry began in November 1928. More than 4,000 watched Hillsborough whip the outmanned Panthers, 33-6, in the game that started a rivalry as tradition-rich as any in the country. The year 1928 was marked by the opening of the Tamiami Trail, an engineering marvel that connected the west and east coasts of Florida from Tampa to Miami. A fight for a Tampa-Miami road link dated back to 1915. In April 1923, a group calling themselves "Trailblazers" attempted to cross the dense Everglades. The party disappeared for days and airplanes searched for them. Two Tampans Frank Whitman and Russell Kay were in the group. The missing explorers received nationwide publicity. Finally, Seminole Indians located the party and escorted it to Miami.


Famed inventor Thomas A. Edison of Fort Myers had sent a bottle of grape juice tied with a white ribbon by the "Trailblazers." The bottle was to be delivered to William Jennings Bryan, the great prohibitionist and three times Democratic nominee for President of the U.S., who was busy selling real estate in Coral Gables. Eventually, the big day for the official opening of Tamiami Trail came. It was dedicated on Tuesday night, April 24, 1928, at the Tampa Auditorium. Principal speakers were Gov. John W. Martin, who had run for office on a platform of better roads for Florida; Mayor D.B. McKay, T. Ed Bryan, W.W. Trice, and W.G. Brorein. A motorcade proceeded from Tampa to Miami and stops were made along the way for local celebrations in intermediate cities. On New Year's Day, 1928, the largest drainage project in Florida, built to serve the Interbay section of Tampa, was completed at a cost of $2,338,000, and extended through 250 subdivisions, comprising 25,000 lots. For the second time in history, a Tampa man was elected Governor of Florida in 1928. He was Doyle E. Carlton, prominent attorney. He took office in January 1929, and was chief executive for four depression years. During his administration, parimutuel gambling was voted by the Legislature, vetoed by Carlton, and passed over his veto. Locally, in 1928, L.M. Hatton, Jr., was elected Sheriff of Hillsborough County in a freak election. His mother died on election eve and Hatton was swept into office on a big sympathy vote. The sheriffs tenure lasted only a few months. Governor Carlton fired his fellow townsman, who was accused of corruption. Hatton claimed he was "the victim of one of the rottenest political deals ever handed an officer of this county." In 1928 there was a big community hassle over whether to repair the 1892 Hillsborough County Court House or to build a new one. One proposal was for a new 27-story court house and office building, estimated to cost $4.5 million. It would have been the tallest building in Florida at the time. A syndicate headed by P.O. Wall offered to furnish the county four floors for court rooms and county offices at no cost to the taxpayers on a 99-year lease of the then current court house site at Franklin and Lafayette Streets, Florida Avenue, and Madison Street. A Bar Association committee, headed by Judge O.K. Reaves, declared the plan would be unconstitutional and the idea was dropped. Another proposal was advanced to convert the Tampa Bay Hotel into a modern courthouse. Several large rooms, namely the lobby, dining room, kitchen, and ball room would be converted into court rooms, the bedrooms into offices. It was suggested that the county could swap the site of the court house to the City of Tampa for the hotel. That scheme also went down in defeat. A few years later, in 1933, the hotel became the home of newborn University of Tampa. In 1929 a municipal airport and seaplane base was proposed to be built on an island off Ballast Point in Hillsborough Bay. The Tampa Daily Times wrote enthusiastically: "Seaplanes would be afforded landing and takeoff directions two miles or longer in all winds sufficient even for giant flying boats that will be put in operation soon by the New York, Rio &


Buenos Aires Airlines (eventually part of Pan American Airways)." One hundred sixty acres with 5,420-foot lanes arranged in cross formation were suggested. A 2,660-foot causeway would have linked the island with the mainland, placing the airport 10 minutes from the heart of Tampa by Bayshore Boulevard. The voters of Tampa approved a $750,000 bond issue to pay for this island air and seaplane base. But alas, the residents along affluent Bayshore Boulevard rose up as one to vigorously oppose the project, saying it would lower property values and cut off their view of the waterfront. A blue ribbon citizens committee appointed by Mayor D.B. McKay studied the issue and announced it favored the airport at Catfish Point on Interbay Peninsula. But a majority bloc on the City Council stubbornly refused to proceed. The Tampa Tribune turned its editorial guns on the politicians demanding that they go ahead with the plan. The balky councilmen held firm and plans for the airport were shelved. And Pan American, thoroughly disgusted with the local politics, said phooey on you, abandoned the idea of establishing a base in Tampa and went to Miami. There was more action on the local aviation front in 1929. The nationwide craze for airplane endurance feats reached Tampa. The Florida Citrus Exchange sponsored the Sealdsweet, which was refueled in air by another craft, the Mor-Juice. The planes were named after the Exchange's fruit brands. The long run of the contest was abruptly ended when both planes crashed within minutes of each other the same day. E.A. "Boots" Dempsey, 34, and Stanley Smith, 26, both of St. Louis, crashed on takeoff in their Curtiss Robin aircraft, the Mor-Juice, to refuel the sister ship which was attempting to set an endurance record that would exceed the presently acknowledged mark of 421 consecutive hours in the air. The Sealdsweet had crashed 15 minutes earlier near Kissimmee. Both pilots escaped unharmed. Several months later the endurance record of 647 hours was set by another pair of pilots in St. Louis. The Tampa flight was a stunt designed to promote a new airfield for the city to replace the outmoded Drew Field (now Tampa International Airport). The Drew Field land was leased four days after the Sealdsweet and the MorJuice crashed. The city hangar at Drew Field was destroyed by fire later in the year which caused more than $100,000 worth of damage. The peak year representing the record cigar production in the history of Tampa was in 1929, when 504,753,000 cigars were made. A historical report on the industry issued in 1939 noted that "despite the decline and unsatisfactory conditions since 1929, the cigar industry still remains the major economic activity in Tampa. However, it is no longer the only important industry in the city "In 1930 the U.S. Census showed 25 percent of the workers in Tampa were engaged in cigar factories, as compared with 56.2 percent in 1910." In the decade of the '20s, an increase of 121 percent in the annual output of cigars was recorded. The output in 1920 was 227,791,000.


In the gloomy days of 1929, just as the stock market was about to crash and Florida's real estate boom already had collapsed, a company of more than 100 persons from a Hollywood studio swooped into Tampa to make a film. It was the first all-outdoor, all-talking picture ever produced and it was called Hell Harbor. The location for the filming was Rocky Point near the present-day Rusty Pelican Restaurant. Henry King, famed Hollywood director, was the director of the movie made here which starred a Latin bombshell from Mexico, Lupe Velez. Others featured in the film were Jean Hersholt, John Holland, Gibson Gowland, and Al St. John. Also starred was Tampa's own Rondo Hatton, who swapped a career as reporter for the Tampa Morning Tribune to become a movie actor. Gov. Doyle E. Carlton, wrote to Henry King: "I am sure that the beauty spots of the State, the long hours of daylight, and delightful weather conditions particularly fit Florida for motion picture work." The Governor added, "We believe this is just the beginning of a big movement." The Roarin' Twenties were winding down when Tampa experienced "a black day in history." On July 17, 1929, the large, highly respected and trusted Citizens Bank and Trust Company suddenly closed its doors. Hundreds of business concerns had accounts and thousands of individuals had their life savings in the busted bank. In addition, several smaller banks, affiliated with the Citizens, also closed. Within hours after the news about the Citizens spread around the city, the "run" began on the city's other major banks the First National, Exchange National, and First Savings & Trust Company. Tampa's newspapers, business leaders, and civic groups called for calm. A big to-do was made over the arrival of an airplane flying in from Jacksonville laden with $1 million in cash, rushed here to assure and reassure depositors that their investments were safe. That same evening, another $4 million in Federal Reserve Bank funds was shipped by rail to Tampa. The crisis was weathered. A few days before this calamity hit Tampa, Gov. Doyle E. Carlton stopped off in Chicago enroute to a governors' conference in Connecticut. He went on the radio there to tell the northern interests that Florida was making adjustments after the real estate boom preparing for a new day. Yes, the Governor boasted, "The state (of Florida) is as sound as Gibraltar." The bank closings were just a prelude to the troubles ahead. Soon the bottom dropped out of the stock markets and a massive nationwide depression was launched, destined to last most of the 1930s. When they counted noses in the 1930 census, Tampa's population totaled 101,161 approximately twice as much as it was in the 1920 census. Yes, during the Roarin 'Twenties, Tampa prospered and developed, and at the end of the decade, the city was on the threshold of becoming a buzzing metropolis. And most of the memories of that era were happy and exciting ones!


The Casualty List Was Corrected By TONY PIZZO On the pitch black night of Sept. 26, 1918, in the ebbing days of World War I, the Coast Guard cutter U.S.S. Tampa was torpedoed by a German submarine. The ship was on convoy duty leading the way for merchant ships through the Bristol Channel on the southwest coast of England. U-Boat No. 53, under the command of Von Schraeder, had followed the convoy all day, and when darkness fell the submarine went ahead and waited for its prey. "Help! For God's sake, help!" was the last message from the Tampa. The U-boat also sent a radio message for help for the vessel after it was struck. For the U.S.S. Tampa sank immediately in the cold, murky waters. The entire crew of 118 was lost. Twenty-three of the sailors were Tampans. This was the worst tragedy for Tampa and the worst single loss for the Navy during the war. From this sea tragedy emerged a moving story of patriotism which stands nobly in the annals of Tampans at war. With the passing of time, the story had vanished from memory since it was first reported by The Tampa Daily Times in 1918. Vincenzo (Jimmie) Guerriero, a member of the ill-fated crew, was an impressionable youth with a blazing desire to serve on the U.S.S. Tampa. While the Coast Guard cutter was based in Tampa, Jimmie visited her deck and gazed upon her for hours with admiration, dreaming of sailing with her to the seven seas. -From Hampton Dunn CollectionThe USS Tampa went down after being torpedoed in the Bristol Channel


The following is a touching story of Jimmie Guerriero as it appeared in the Times Oct. 4, 1918: LOST ON THE U.S.S. TAMPA Enlisted Under Assumed Name Jimmie Guerriero, whose name appeared in yesterday's paper as "Jimmie Ross," is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Guerriero of 2908 12th Ave., in Ybor City. The father owns a tailor shop on Michigan Avenue. (Jimmie) enlisted two years ago under the name of "Ross" because he was only 16. He claimed to be 18 when he joined the Tampa. He was born in Italy and came to Tampa with his brothers, Rocco and Carmine, in 1909. The boy was crazy about Tampa and bound to enlist to fight for his adopted country. Jimmie's brother Rocco received his last letter, dated August 24th, as follows: "Dear Brother: I am writing you these few lines to let you know that I received your letter two months ago, and I was very glad to hear from you and to know that you are well and happy. I am in good health and feeling fine every day. I will close this time because I have got to work. Give my best regards to everyone and to you. From your brother, Jim Ross." Guerriero means "warrior" in Italian. Jimmie's sacrifices gave meaning to his name, and it remains a lasting example of a young immigrant's love for the glory of America. At a memorial service for the U.S.S. Tampa in 1924, attorney Cody Fowler referred to the sinking as "Just a flash of fire on a distant sea, but it burned the name of Tampa high on an immortal tablet of fame." Lest we forget. -From Tony Pizzo CollectionJimmie Guerrerio entered the service at age 16 under the name "Ross."


Part Two Wings Over Tampa And Florida By H. WAYNE BEVIS Part one of our story took us from the earliest fumbling efforts to make flight a reality to the end of World War II, with its overwhelming emphasis on air power. Let's review, very briefly, that part of the story. The early gestures in man's conquest of the air that era of "frail wings and stout hearts" were largely individual accomplishments or small-scale organized efforts. Not until the end of the global conflict did the public begin to accept flying as a sensible means of going somewhere, so that in the late 1940s the great majority of people had not gone up in an airplane. Basic problems had been worked out, and sound aeronautical principles established; but general acceptance was still limited to those whose duties required air travel, or to progressive Drew Field administration building became aviation hub following World War H.


business men willing to accept the inconveniences of flying 1935-style. Along this line, a fascinating look backward is found in the July 1938 issue of Fortune magazine an impressive, picture-laden publication featuring an article on "Tomorrow's Airplane." Their look at the future was a mixture of bold imagination and acceptance of (supposedly) insurmountable limitations. The article envisioned a flying time from New York to London of 15 hours, reduced to 12 IF the cabin could be sealed and the flight was at really high altitudes. Flying boats were still very much the leaders in design calculations, and no mention was made of the possibility of jet power. Great dirigibles were given prominent display as the answer to air travel needs, despite the "Hindenburg" disaster of the previous year. Supersonic flight was not even mentioned. And the projected fare for trans-Atlantic passengers, interestingly enough, was not too different from today's reality. But enough of chuckling at outmoded prognostications. Our own ideas of the future will probably be just as ludicrous, 50 years from now. Before we take off into the post-war chronicle, a quick look at two items left out of the 1984 Sunland Tribune. One relates to the XS-1 the first transonic plane tried out first as a powerless super-glider released from a "mother ship" and later equipped with an engine for true transonic flight. These tests took place over central Florida, starting in 1946. And, very quietly, the final training for (then) Major Jimmy Doolittle's "Tokyo Raiders" was done at Drane Field, southwest of Lakeland. This bombing raid on the Japanese capital took place in April 1942, and as the first retaliation for the shame and loss of Pearl Harbor meant much New terminal opened in 1952, inadequate in space almost from the beginning.


more in terms of American morale than in actual damage inflicted. So, on with the narrative. Tampa's experience at the end of World War II was quite typical, in that the government offered Drew Field to the City of Tampa as the nucleus of a municipal airport; and this time the city fathers, ready to face the future, took up the offer. Peter 0. Knight, the close-in and attractive little airport on Davis Islands, was changed to general aviation use only, and commercial flight operations then consisting of a few flights per day by National and Eastern air lines -moved to what had been an Air Corps training field in May of 1946. The wooden buildings were converted, after a fashion, to commercial use, and Tampa Municipal Airport was on its way. The reader, incidentally, is asked to forgive a strong personal involvement in the "rest of the story." Your narrator was transferred back to Tampa by Eastern in February of 1946, and was based here, in various management capacities, until retirement in 1971, with the title of "Disney Project Coordinator." Also, since Eastern's activities and statistics are better known to me, there will be an inevitable tendency to write of that company's doings in the local aviation picture. Operations at the converted Air Corps base were very much on the "make-do" side, but change and growth were in the air, and plans were already being discussed for a new terminal on the south side of the field. A Douglas DC-4, relieved of military duties, was the first four-engine passenger plane at the "new" terminal, and was delayed when the ground crew plugged in an old-style battery cart and shorted out its entire electrical system. One of our supervisors, with unexpected resourcefulness, got on the public address system and told "greeters and gawkers" that the public would now be allowed to take a walk-through of the big, unfamiliar airplane. They were properly impressed. One more reference to the former Air Corps buildings: About 1950, running down a wooden ramp in the rain to catch a flight, your scribe slipped and made a spectacular three-point landing on the unyielding surface. After picking myself up and boarding the waiting plane, I found blood dripping in both sleeves. The livid bruises covering my backside from waist to mid-thigh faded after several weeks, but the cut nerves in my elbows still twinge occasionally, reminding me to appreciate present-day escalators and covered boarding chutes. Capt. Dick Merrill pulled his share of records, stunts


As the air transportation industry expanded in the postwar years, there was vigorous competition for new customers. New routes were controlled by the Civil Aeronautics Board, as were allowable fares; and many of the airlines yearned to tap the Florida market, itself growing rapidly as air transportation was accepted and air conditioning became more common. Since the Florida-based carriers had to bring their equipment back south for maintenance anyway, they developed elaborate promotional programs or "package tours," with air fare, resort accommodations, and ground transportation all for one total price. The response was gratifying, bringing thousands of visitors to Florida for the first time and establishing the formula by which many of them came back for longer and longer stays, finally becoming full-time residents. Another permanent result of these continuing promotions is the "two-peak season," which has abolished the summer doldrums in most of the state. The first interstate carrier added to the long-established duo of Eastern and National was also the first "foreign" air carrier to offer regular service to Tampa TransCanada Airlines, now known as Air Canada. A minor, but intriguing, newcomer was Cayman Airways, which made a valiant effort to sustain service between Tampa and the Cayman Islands. The newly formed Hillsborough County Aviation Authority, looking toward the future, began to plan for a new and (relatively) splendid terminal. This became a reality in 1952, and, like many other airport terminals before and since, was inadequate before construction could be completed. At the dedication ceremonies, Capt. Eddie Rickenbacker offended some proud officials by pointing this out in his customarily outspoken manner. Nonetheless, with its glamorous Bartke's restaurant on the second floor overlooking the busy ramp, and its space for various auxiliary offices, the terminal was a source of pride to citizens of the area for several years. In 1957 and 1958, a deluge of new carriers was added to the local picture by the Civil Aeronautics Board. Most of the major air carriers achieved their long-cherished wish to have Florida routes, while Northeast Air Lines was suddenly expanded from a New York to New England carrier by an award of runs into Washington and Florida. It was perhaps too much too soon, for after a few Fashion shows aboard plane helped attract new flying travelers


years Northeast was taken over by Delta. The competition resulting from these awards was intense to the point of ruthlessness, while the soaring public acceptance of air travel hardly kept pace with the sharp increase in the number of seats offered to Florida's major airports. About this time jet propulsion of aircraft began to evolve first in the form of "prop-jets" such as the British "Viscount" and the Lockheed Electra; then in true jetpropelled planes, of which the Boeing 707 was the first spectacular success. (Some 707s are still in use 25 years later, no longer fuel-efficient in comparison to later aircraft but still sturdy and dependable.) The equipment costs involved in the change-over to jets were staggering, but competition drove the airlines to make the switch, even at the cost of submerging themselves in debt. In an aviation history written in 1961, Miami was cited as having more passengers than all the other air terminals in the state combined, boarding or deplaning a total of over four million passengers per year. To glance "ahead of the text" for a moment, consider that in 1984 the Tampa airport handled more than eight million passengers, or more than the total for the whole state in 1961. Strange passengers boarded planes as airlines emphasized freight


In all the rush of corporate growth and competition, the air transportation industry was not without its colorful personalities in the '60s. Dick Merrill, the jaunty Eastern pilot and public relations figure, was still flying as naturally as he breathed, going strong after such exploits as making the first round-trip crossing of the Atlantic. His plane had the wings filled with ping-pong balls in case of being forced down at sea; and on other trips he carried a lion cub as a pet. Actress Toby Wing was his wife, notables all over the world were his friends and admirers, and his only vice was gambling. Many local aviation buffs remember Dick's favorite stunt with the graceful Lockheed Constellation. He flew repeated passes over the field, in full view, with first one engine, then two, and finally three engines shut down buzzing the field with one motor doing all the work. There was no other flyer like him. Dick died in 1982, at the age of 88. Another picturesque aviation figure was George Haldeman, a Lakeland boy who first gained wide fame in 1927 when he tried to pilot actress Ruth Elder across the Atlantic. They were forced down at sea, but rescued by a Dutch freighter. A pilot since 1917, George became a consultant in aviation with the U.S. government, and later served on the Aviation Council of the Tampa Chamber of Commerce until his death in 1984. Also among local notables was diminutive, nerveless Betty Skelton, several times winner of the national women's stunt-flying championship and an Eastern reservations agent between flights. As new and improved airplanes came into use, the airlines put many of their older models into freight service. The Tampa area generates some exotic air freight items, ranging from gladioli and tropical fish through winter strawberries to occasional "special handling" shipments like "Gentle Ben," the performing bear, and porpoises destined for distant aquariums. One memorable night, "Gentle Ben" didn't care for the noisy power unit near his loading door, and took off across the ramp, dragging a couple of struggling handlers after him by his lead rope. There were also interesting experiments with convertible planes, offering normal seating by day and strippeddown cargo space by night; and with great "cargo canoes" slung under the fuselage of the Constellations. One of these won wide publicity by hauling a couple of tons of winter snow from New York non-stop to San Juan, where it afforded a novel (if brief) delight to hundreds of local kids seeing their first snow. The late 1950s and early 1960s witnessed titanic battles for new transcontinental routes. This was before the dubious benefits of deregulation had been decreed by Washington, and route applications had to be fought at great length by impressive arrays of attorneys and witnesses. One local side-effect was the rivalry between Tampa and St. Petersburg for additional flights as aviation drew more and more public support and boarding figures increased. A half-dozen airlines served the St. Petersburg-Clearwater airport at its peak, but most of them moved as competition tightened. Eastern, unwilling to forfeit the support of the well-organized transportation department of the St. Pete Chamber of Commerce, stuck it out as more and more flights gravitated to the busy and centrally-located Tampa airport. The death blow to the St. Petersburg-Clearwater facility was the


completion of the Howard Frankland bridge in 1964. A very substantial portion of passengers at the Pinellas airport came from Pinellas County; but the boardings there showed a quick, irreversible decline from the time the new bridge opened, giving ready access to Tampa International and its better selection of airlines and flights. The situation prevails to this day. The late 1960s and the 1970s can be summarized quickly. Full acceptance of jet-powered equipment continued growth of international travel as the world experienced an uneasy peace impressive safety records despite the snowballing increase in air traffic and the screaming headlines on rare crashes of jumbo jets. 1971 saw the opening of the present Tampa International Airport one that proved the exception to the "rule" that airports were obsolete before they were finished. The built-in capacity for a 50% increase in passenger-handling ability is already proving its merit, as the Hillsborough County Aviation Authority approves plans for a new airside building, to be devoted primarily to international flights. Those of us who have seen many of the airports of the world think of Tampa International as the most civilized air terminal, in both appearance and function, in the world. As the landscaping matures, it will be even more pleasing to the eye; and its principles of passenger handling will continue to pay off in the smooth flow of millions of additional passengers per year. As mentioned earlier, Tampa International, already has well over eight million arriving and departing passengers every twelve months. Another big event of 1971 for Florida, with some side effects on the Tampa area, was the completion of Walt Disney World and its opening on October 1st of that year. The resultant air traffic finally spurred the reluctant Orange County authorities to begin work on a new terminal, which in its completed state bears some resemblance to Tampa's airport and is handling everincreasing numbers of visitors from every state and many foreign countries. International service, we must admit, has up to now been the weakest aspect of Tampa's flight pattern. Flights to and from Canada, Mexico, and more recently Jamaica plus (with a stop but no change of planes) Great Britain, will hopefully respond to our improvements in customs and handling facilities in the new airside building. Charters and seasonal service add to the total, but many of this type of flights use the St. Petersburg-Clearwater airport, with its long runway extending into the bay and its relatively uncrowded approaches. MacDill Air Force Base with all its tremendous economic benefits to our community, does unquestionably add to air traffic congestion in the area. So here we are, moving toward the last decade of the twentieth century, with lots of aviation history behind us. There is no way to predict the future accurately, but we can be sure of one thing that the changes we have seen will be modest compared to those awaiting us in the next century. Supersonic air travel, while difficult to justify in the world of business or pleasure journeys, is with us to stay. Ways must be developed to provide it without intolerable waste of our limited fossil fuels remember that the Concorde burns four times as much petroleum-based fuel as the Boeing 747, while carrying only one-fourth as many passengers. Perhaps nuclear fusion (not


fission) can be perfected to a degree of safety, and the apparatus made light and compact enough, to qualify as a propellant for planes. And certainly, as the world's skies become more crowded, collision avoidance systems must improve in range and reliability. Another important aspect of the aviation picture is that of regulation vs. the "free market" concept which now prevails. The benefits to air travelers between large traffic-generating points, in the form of lower competitive fares, are at least partially offset by less service to smaller cities, undependable schedules brought on by ceaseless changes and the disappearances of the drop-outs among competing lines, and the losses to investors resulting from inexperienced or over-optimistic entries into the "dog-eat dog" competitive picture. We are witnessing magnified a thousand times the chaotic situation which prevailed in the 1930s and brought bout the creation of the Civil Aeronautics Board in 1938. In any event, it seems inevitable that in the course of time we will be served by fewer and larger airlines, with a fringe of satellite services to bring mail and passenger flights to smaller communities. Among the things of which the aviation community in Tampa can be proud is the sponsorship and nurture of the annual Tony Jannus Award Banquet. Launched in 1964 as an observance of the 50th anniversary of the first scheduled heavier-than-air flight, from St. Petersburg to Tampa, this has grown into a world-class event attended by air transportation notables from all over the world. The 1984 recipient was Edward C. Wells, the unassuming mainstay of Boeing's design team just retired after several decades of engineering accomplishment that made him largely responsible for scores of safety and comfort features of modern aircraft. The presentation of his award, "in recognition of outstanding contributions to scheduled air transportation," was made by the director general of the International Air Transport Association, Knut Hammerskjold himself the award winner in 1983. Other recently designated recipients include Manuel Sosa de la Vega, president and chief executive officer of Aerovias Mexicana; and J.R.D. Tata, who founded Air India and made it a success. The annual banquets are generously covered by the international aviation (and general) news media, and have been fortunate in having as a guest each year a surviving member of the original Tony Jannus team former "line boy" J.D. Seale, who despite the encroachments of more than 90 years enjoys them hugely. Latest statistics from the county Aviation Authority indicate that Tampa International is now served by three "commuter" airlines and 26 which cross state lines. Seven of the latter provide international service without a change of planes; and as noted above the upcoming airside building, slated for construction beginning this fall (1985) should stimulate additional activity by international carriers. Our Aviation Authority will be ready to handle an anticipated 11 million passengers yearly by 1990. To encapsulate Tampa's aviation history, our airport will then be handling in an hour, around the clock and every day of the year, as many passengers as Tony Jannus and his pioneer airboat crew did in their entire first season. Thus, "the old order changeth, giving place to the new." And, in the dazzling light of


recent (and now-planned) achievements in space exploration, it is no longer appropriate to say "the sky's the limit." Perhaps we should wonder instead, as the 20th Century draws to a close, if there are indeed any limits to man's accomplishments -except the lethal limits of his own capabilities for self-destruction.


An Indian Incident On The Lake Of Flints By DR. JAMES W. COVINGTON In 1934 William A. Read, a professor of English at Louisiana State University, wrote a book entitled Florida Place Names of Indian Origin. Under the title "Thonotosassa" he lists a lake as noted on an 1839 map, a town of 896 on an 1892 map, and finally, the Indian name of Thonotosassa or Lake of Flints. Although ThonotosassaLake of Flints-is a word in a Seminole dialect, the area was known to the Indians of Florida long before the arrival of the Seminoles. Sometime in the 1950s a number of spear heads 4 to 5 inches long were found two to three feet below the surface lodged in yellow sand on a farm between Thonotosassa and Seffner. When a detailed search was made of the ground it was ascertained that this place was a projectile (spear or arrowhead) workshop that existed four to five thousand years ago. In honor of this find, Ripley Bullen, who was the first to write a guide to the identification of Florida projectile points, named this rather long and heavy point "Thonotosassa," concluding that it seemed too heavy for anything except thrusting spears, daggers, or knives. The Lake Thonotosassa region seemed to be a good location for Indian villages to be sifted, for it contained high ground for protection and a. plentiful supply of fresh water. In a recent listing of prehistoric sites by the Historic Tampa-Hillsborough County Preservation Board, Thonotosassa led the entire country with 108 recorded sites, followed by Gibsonton with 23. Most of the sites are located some distance from the coast and are designated special-use camps such as quarries, hunting and exploitation of food. No mounds or horticultural remains have been found in the Thonotosassa area, so it may be supposed that the natural features of the area, the lake for fishing and the supply of flint drew the Indians to the area. The last pre-Seminole Indians to live in the Tampa Bay region were the Tocobagas. Although they had as many as 29 towns, none has yet been recorded at Thonotosassa. Due to the inroads of disease and slave hunters, the Tocobagas vanished by 1720, leaving deserted a wonderful land full of trees, streams, lakes, wildlife and containing no warlike tribes. With the decline of the early Florida tribes, bands of Creek Indians that lived in Alabama and Georgia began to move into Florida. Two bands settled near Tallahassee as early as 1710. Another settled near Gainesville at Alachua in 1740. The Indian economy at this time depended upon the traffic in deer skins. The warriors made lengthy trips during the fall and winter to secure the hides which were exchanged at trading posts for guns, clothing, whiskey, and other commodities. The women stayed at home, working the fields, tending the cattle and horses, and waiting for the males to return from their long jaunts.


One hunting party, after spending some six months in the field, came into St. Augustine in 1818 to barter their wares bear, deer, and panther skins and bear fat. After the trading, the men were seen in all parts of the town in various stages of drunkenness caused by the potent Cuban rum. Later, the warriors returned to their camp site with a barrel of rum and whiskey for the women so that the latter could have their own round of drinks. The bands moving into Florida were divided into two groups speaking "the related but not mutually intelligible, Muskogee (Creek) and Mikasuki (Hitchiti) languages." It was difficult to identify a person or even a band as being Muskogee or Mikasuki. Gradually, the Indians pushed deeper into Florida. From available evidence it appears that prior to 1800 no Seminole villages were located south of Tampa Bay. The Indians used South Florida as a hunting ground and carried with them "small bundles of sticks made of the sweetbay trees, which they used in roasting their meat" because it imparted such "a pleasant flavour." Sometimes scattered groups of Seminoles searched along the Atlantic coast for items washed ashore from ships wrecked along the beach. In 1783, Joseph Antonio de Evia was ordered by Spanish authorities to chart the Florida coastal waters. At Tampa Bay, he stopped and talked to some Yuchis, Tallapoosas and Choctaws who stated that they had travelled by horseback for five days to hunt deer in the area. They hoped to exchange the deerskins for guns, powder, and dry goods with the English. Since the nearest English posts were at Nassau and Canada, the Indians probably were referring to the Panton, Leslie company at Pensacola. Ten years later, Vicente Folch y Juan examined the same area in order to see if an outpost should be established. At Tampa Bay he explored the shoreline and found two Indian villages, Cascavela and Anattylaica. Judging from available evidence, these villages were semi-permanent in nature, and during part of the year the inhabitants hunted and trapped the abundant wildlife found in the area. They then carried the skins to St. Augustine, St. Marks, or Pensacola, where they exchanged them for blankets, shirts, beads, saddles, flints, and other items. The Indians said they would welcome the establishment of a trading post at Tampa Bay, and their visits to the northern trading posts depended upon the area in which the hunting parties operated. It is believed that after the Alachua band was attacked in 1813 by a force of Tennessee and Georgia militiamen, the village was moved west to the banks of the Suwannee near the Gulf of Mexico. When in 1818, Andrew Jackson attacked the village, the survivors fled elsewhere. It is believed that one group of these Alachua refugees settled at or near Thonotosassa. In 1824 United States troops landed at Hillsborough Bay and River to found Fort Brooke. One of the best accounts of life at Fort Brooke was written by Lieutenant George A. McCall who wrote letters back home which were collected together and published in a book entitled Letters from the Frontier. McCall visited much of the area about Tampa Bay including an Indian village at Thonotosassa. His account of life at the village reads as follows:


"The town nearest to, (at a distance of 12 miles,) and the first with which we opened communication, is 'Thlonotosasa,' which translated is 'Flint-abundant.' It numbers about 200 souls, and is under the rule of 'Tustenuggeethlock-ko,' the 'Stout Chief.' An incident occurred a month ago which afforded one of many instances of filial affection to which I have alluded. In few words you have it here. "It happened one day, that, among the motley crowd of visitors that graced our camp for there are grades or classes, the result of wealth or talent, with Indians as well as other peoples there were present a man of the better class, of 30 years, and his wife, of 20, with a pretty child of two years. This Indian and his wife were by all of us much admired for their personal beauty, and esteemed for their quiet, yet dignified but always respectful bearing whenever addressed. "They seemed to be a model of conjugal happiness: never seen apart, never jarred by any clashing of separate inclinations or motives. The husband was, I think, the most perfectly formed man I ever beheld, and graceful in every motion; the wife, in addition to uncommon personal attractions, was ever scrupulously neat: both had withal a calm and peaceful expression of countenance that bespoke the friendly regard of all who met them. "On the unfortunate day to which I allude, that bane of the red man, that cursed and destroying affliction which the advance of the pale of civilization has imposed upon his race, a bottle of whiskey, fell by some means into the possession of our friend. Like a true Indian, he drank it off in a few minutes, notwithstanding the efforts of his wife to prevent it. "The effect, as you suppose, was sudden and fearful. His brain was crazed; in a state of wild frenzy he threw off his clothes, except that portion of which an Indian never divests himself, and mounting his horse, rode furiously about the camp, stopping every few yards to challenge the soldiers, and whooping his war-cry in the faces of all he met. "His poor wife, with her child in arms, was following him and striving to reclaim him. The outrage became so serious as to reach the ears of the commanding officer, who immediately sent for the chief, then also in the camp. To him the Colonel read a scathing lecture, and directed him to have this Indian removed, or he would be arrested by the guard and severely dealt with. "Old Tustenuggee, who had seen some 50 summers, bowed his head without reply. He walked rapidly to the part of the camp where he understood his townsman was. On coming upon him, the chief uttered in a low tone a few words which I, who had been brought to the spot by the tumult, did not understand; but the effect upon the inebriate was magical. He was sobered at once. He hung his head, and suffered his wife to lead his horse to where her own was fastened, when together they left our camp. The chief and his party bivouacked that night at the spring, about a mile from our camp. "In the course of the evening, the Indian who had been intoxicated became sober; and smarting under the reproof he had received from his chief, arose from his own fire which his wife had kindled, and walked over to that of his chief. The latter had not his family with him, and was alone, seated by


his fire, with his pipe as his only companion and solace. The other seated himself quietly on the opposite side of the fire, and after a short pause, which is always the introduction to the discussion of a serious matter, complained of the indignity that had been offered to him. Whatever it was, I never learned; but it was evidently what the chief had said to him at our camp, and which, as it humbled him, had also galled him bitterly. "But few words, as we were told, passed between them, when the young man sprang across the fire, seized his chief under the arms, and thrust his back and shoulders into the fire, where he held him until the latter fainted, when he cast him on the ground and moved away slowly to his own hearth-stone, where he directed his wife to saddle their horses. They then, without further ado, rode off, and have not be seen since, though I have understood they are sojourning in the neighborhood of Okahumpky, about 100 miles north of us. "The following morning the affair was reported to the Colonel, who at once requested the surgeon to ride out and see what could be done for the old man. On his return, the surgeon reporting that the old chief was very seriously if not fatally burned, a light wagon with a bedsack was sent for him; a wall-tent was pitched near the hospital tent, and old Tustenuggee was comfortably established. "The next day, his wife, a son about 20, a daughter of 18, and a younger boy, came to camp. They had a tent given them by the side of the chief's, and there abode. The meeting, I was told, was quiet, but exceedingly touching; and I certainly never saw, during several weeks that the chief lay, at first in great danger, afterwards convalescing, more gentleness and more skilfulness and tender care than these children of the forest showed in moving and handling their father, while the doctor dressed his wounds. No one of them ever left him for an hour. Scarcely did they suffer a wish to be expressed before it was gratified. "Indeed, I often thought the group of husband, wife, father, mother, and children, was a subject worthy the pen of a Walter Scott, who alone could have given in their true colors a graphic presentation of the patient smile of the chief, the anxious but ever watchful eye and ever ready hand of his wife, and the unsleeping assiduity of the children. I confess I never saw these traits more beautifully exemplified where Christianism, the religion taught by the Saviour of men, was accepted and its teachings practiced. "I have only further to say that the old man finally recovered, thanks to the care of the doctor and the untiring watchfulness of his family; and was afterwards always known and referred to as the 'Burnt Chief."


Tampas Early Banks Weathered Many a Storm By JUNE CONNOR Editor's note: This article was written in 1932 as the Great Depression was gripping Florida and the nation. The chronological references and viewpoints reflect that era, 53 years ago. The material was researched and prepared by June Connor for a special page on Tampa banking which appeared in the Miami Herald. Mrs. Connor was involved in advertising not only for the Exchange National Bank, her employer at the time, but also for the other Tampa banks when they agreed upon joint advertising in national publications. Banking in Tampa dates back half a century. Tampa, the settlement of soldiers and other white people which eventually grew into the village of Tampa, goes back more than a hundred years. Fifty, 60, 70 years ago Spanish gold, Doubloons, Pieces of Eight, were paid to the Captains McKay, First and Second, for the good Florida cattle loaded into their strong ships which sailed out of Hillsborough and Old Tampa Bays. American gold, too, and "hard" dollars of silver found their way into the deep leather purses of pioneer Tampans and the Cattle Kings of the back country before any bank had put up a sign or grilled window. Probably as much Spanish gold and silver coin was used in those days for legitimate business in Tampa as old Jose Gaspar ever buried on the coast of Florida. And speaking of "hard" dollars, Tampa cigar manufacturers for decades hauled their payrolls with mule teams at the peak of the season because the tabaqueros liked the ring of silver on marble-topped coffee shop tables, and no $1 bills were used until comparatively recent years. Tampa's first bank was a sort of "feeler" a venture made by pioneers who had pushed back the wilderness around Jacksonville. James P. Taliaferro and Daniel Griffith Ambler were logging contractors in the 1870s. Mr. Taliaferro, a Virginian, born in 1847, quit school to serve under Lee. After the Civil War, he finished his education and came to Florida where he participated in almost every form of material progress in the state: industrial, transportation, financial and commercial. In 1881, he and his partner began to build railroads. Mr. Ambler was older. Born in 1842 in New York, he came to Florida as a boy. He, too, served in the Confederate Army in the Florida Cavalry. In 1870 he started "Ambler's Bank" at Jacksonville. A third pioneer now enters the picture. John N.C. Stockton, a Florida boy who had gone to work at $2 a week when but 14, kept books for "Ambler's" in 1878 and five years later was a partner in the new banking firm of Ambler, Marvin & Stockton. To Taliaferro and Ambler, banking was a sideline. They were building railroads to St. Augustine and to Palatka. They made trips to Tampa by boat from Cedar Keys and, having vision, decided to start a bank there. So in 1883 they sent Mr. Taliaferro's younger brother Carson down to the little town of 800 souls to open a bank. It was called the "Bank of Tampa," and Taliaferro,


-Burgert Brothers Collection, Special Collections, Tampa/Hillsborough County Public Library First National Bank moved into this "marble front" building on Franklin Street in the early 1890s.


Ambler and Stockton were joint owners. Mr. Stockton was president at first, and T.C. Taliaferro, cashier. There was no railroad to Tampa then, no big industries, and there came a time when the cashier of the little bank felt rather discouraged and, so they say, came near closing up shop or shack it might have been called, when suddenly The Spaniards came in a second voyage of discovery! The railroad had come in 1884, to be sure, but only a narrow gauge affair from Sanford, and Knight & Wall had started what is now Tampa's oldest business. Tampa also had a Board of Trade which met with the pioneer cigar manufacturers when they were considering Tampa. In 1885 Tampa was incorporated; the state held its famed Constitutional Convention and also passed a pension act. Phosphate, which now gives Tampa world leadership, was discovered in Florida, and this started a boom which became rather serious in spots. John N.C. Stockton engaged in extensive phosphate developments and resigned from the presidency of the bank. James P. Taliaferro thereafter headed the institution. 1886 was an eventful year in Tampa. The first government dredging in Hillsborough Bay gave Tampa a tortuous channel 60 feet wide and 8 feet deep. Prior to that ships had to cast anchor off Gadsden Point or Port Tampa and transfer their cargoes to barges and lighters. In '86 standard gauge tracks replaced the first rails into Tampa and trains came all the way from New York into the village. The cigar city known as "Ybor" was built, big business began, and the bank was granted a national charter. Incidentally, the First National Bank of Tampa, the National Bank of Jacksonville (Barnett's) and the First of Pensacola (Sullivan's) were the most important in Florida in the '80's. Abe Maas came to Tampa that year, too, and started business in a one-room store, the first home of Maas Brothers Department Store. In 1887 the Plant Steamship Line (P & 0) inaugurated sailings to Key West and Havana from Port Tampa, the Plant System extended its line to the latter point and the Plant Investment Co. began its marvelous development of the West Coast. Henry Bradley Plant was determined to outdo Flagler on the East Coast, and of course, this rivalry was fine for Florida. The F. C. & P. (later the Seaboard) also came into Tampa about this time. Tampa's most terrific setback after Civil War days was in 1887-88, the epidemic of dread yellow fever which no one knew how to prevent or cure. In those dark days T.C. Taliaferro, cashier of the bank, opened a branch in Lenna City (now Seffner) where all mail was held for fumigation, and at that point the First National carried on. When Governor Fleming was elected in 1889 he called a special session of the legislature for the purpose of setting up a state board of health, and in his first address he said: "During the past year a great shadow has rested upon the state. Death has claimed many esteemed and useful citizens. Business was seriously interrupted throughout the state, in places entirely prostrated and destroyed. Grief and affliction has overwhelmed our people. Pecuniary losses cannot be estimated. But with the heroism which has ever characterized them, with energy strengthened by reverses, our people are pushing forward to a renewed prosperity." And this was said back in 1889! What more could be said today?


In 1889 Tampa installed its first electric fire alarm system with 15 boxes and 4 large bells, which could be heard all over town. The Fire Department was entirely a voluntary affair, sons of the best families welcoming the excitement of a fire on a dull day or night. T.C. Taliaferro, the town's banker, was chief for two years until the department was organized as a part-pay, part-volunteer group. The first streetcars (with dummy engine power) and the first sewerage system came through the cigar pioneers. Eduardo Manrara, the alert young partner of Vicente Martinez Ybor, organized the Ybor City Land & Improvement Company in 1886, and the Ybor-Manrara interests gave lands and factories to other manufacturers in order to get quickly a large settlement of workers. This same Manrara was one of Tampa's great builders, and he was probably interested in more corporations in the '90s than any other Tampan. All of his legal and organization work was handled by a brillant young attorney who came to Tampa in '89 Peter 0. Knight, and the careers of these distinguished citizens were intermingled in the early days of modern Tampa, to the credit of each. In 1890 A.C. Clewis came to Tampa from Tallahassee and engaged in the insurance and abstract business, with never a thought of banking. He bought the Tampa Abstract -Burgert Brothers Collection, Special Collections, Tampa/Hillsborough County Public LibraryExchange National Bank's columns still stand at Franklin and Twiggs Street.


Company in 1891 and also organized the Tampa Building & Loan Association. In 1890 Plant built a $3 million Moorish palace on the west bank of the Hillsborough River (the Tampa Bay Hotel) and other hotels in Belleair, Port Tampa, Fort Myers, Punta Gorda, Winter Park, Ocala and Kissimmee. There was a bad time in Wall Street in 1893, but Tampa with its cigar industry grew and developed, and the time was ripe for the establishment of another bank. The city was growing uptown, pushing old residences off the main streets and the First National had moved into its famous 11 marble front" four-story banking house valued at $100,000 and said to contain all the "modern conveniences." Eduardo Manrara, John Trice, Col. J. B. Anderson, Peter 0. Knight, Sigo Myers (of Liggett & Myers Tobacco Co.), John N.C. Stockton and ten other leading citizens interested in the development of Tampa met on the 16th of March, 1894 and organized the Exchange National Bank with a paid-in capital of $100,000. Colonel Anderson was made cashier and before the end of the first year Manrara was made president, succeeding John Trice who had withdrawn to start a trust company. Stockton was vice president. About this time a young man came to Tampa from Ocala and was hired as a clerk by Colonel Anderson. His name was James Arthur Griffin, and he did everything around the bank not handled by the cashier, teller and bookkeeper. Today he is president of the bank he has served for 38 years and is one of Florida's most astute and best known bankers. Less than a year after this new bank opened, Florida was again devastated by a calamity known as the "Great Freeze" of 1894-95. Citrus shipments from Florida in 1886-87 amounted to 1,260,000 boxes against California's 840,000. In 1893-94 Florida shipped a record crop of 5,055,367 boxes against California's 2,230,000, but after the freeze had killed both fruit and trees in a large area, shipments dropped from millions down to thousands and did not reach the 5-million mark again until 1910. The damage to Florida was estimated at from $50 to $75 million and hundreds of people gave up the struggle and left. -Burgert Brothers Collection, Special Collections, Tampa/Hillsborough County Public LibraryCitizens Bank looked solid until its financial collapse in 1929.


But Tampa's banks pulled through and carried on. In 1895 Perry C. Wall, chairman of the finance committee of the city took his problems to the cashier of the Exchange National, and Colonel Anderson, appointed fiscal agent, went to New York and negotiated the first sale of Tampa bonds which raised the city's scrip from 49c to par. The Exchange National has occupied the same corner since it started. It was "way up-town" in '94, adjoining old residences, dirt-floor blacksmith shops and small stores. Trees shaded the windows in summer and a long hitching rail at the side accommodated the riding or driving customers. Eduardo Manrara organized the Tampa Gas Company. He also built an imposing structure in Ybor City, an exact replica of the "Castle Brewery 11 of Johannesburg, South Africa, which housed Florida's first brewery. Mr. Ybor died, and Manrara also succeeded him as head of Tampa's largest cigar plant which included the "Principe de Gales" factory, at the same time serving as president of the Exchange National Bank, Tampa Gas Company, Ybor City Building & Loan Association, Ybor City Land & Improvement Company, Florida Brewing Company and other minor connections. He was later also president of the City Council. Prior to the outbreak of the Spanish-American War, Tampa was tense with suppressed excitement. Feeling was strong, and the love of adventure as much as sympathy was responsible for the secret expeditions which slipped silently out of West Coast waters in attempts to carry arms and ammunition to Cuba. Many of these filibusters were successful. The Weyler Edict, prohibiting the export of tobacco from the island threw a bomb of consternation into Tampa cigar and business circles. Ten days were granted in which to get supplies, and every available ship was chartered immediately. The Customs House was swamped and had to bond additional warehouses to care for the precious leaf from Cuba. In January, 1897, Tampa was the meeting place of representatives from 22 states who held the South Atlantic and Gulf Coast Harbor Defense Convention for the purpose of discussing the matter their name implied, and then, in 1898, we went to war with Spain. Both banks supplied military leaders: Colonel Anderson, cashier of the Exchange, was made Inspector General of Florida state troops, and Major Douglas Conoley, teller at the First National, was in command of the 5th Battalion. Tampa was the base of operations, and the Tampa Bay Hotel became general headquarters for the staff. There were encamped in and around Tampa three times as many soldiers as citizens between 50,000 and 60,000 soldiers were in the city at a time. When the orders came for the main part of the Army to go, it required 37 transports under the direction of Captain James McKay, II, to move them to Cuba. In 1898 the State Senate elected James P. Taliaferro a U.S. Senator, to succeed Samuel Pasco, and Mr. Taliaferro also served on the State Board of Health during the trying period when scattered cases of yellow fever again made their appearance. However, the "Florida System" prevented any further epidemics. Tampa's first free national advertising came through the Hearst papers which played up


the romantic side of the war for all it was worth, and Tampans remember when Richard Harding Davis and other war correspondents were at the Tampa Bay Hotel with Generals Shafter, Miles, Fitzhugh Lee, Joe Wheeler and Col. Leonard Wood. The famous "Teddy" Roosevelt, Colonel of the Rough Riders, was out in the camp more often than at the hotel. At the turn of the century, The Tampa Morning Tribune carried this editorial: "Tampa is rapidly reaching the front rank commercially. It has three solid banks, diversified manufactories, large wholesale enterprises, the only brewery in Florida, three naval stores companies and the biggest fishery concern in the South." So Tampa grew and thrived and doubled its population because of the impetus the war gave it. In 1902 Mr. A.C. Clewis became actively interested in the Exchange National Bank and was elected president. In 1903, J. A. Griffin was elected cashier. They held these positions for 25 years when the former was made chairman of the board and the latter president. In 1903 the area known as the "Garrison," which had blocked Tampa's harbor development, was opened, and dredging started in earnest. The Hendry & Knight terminals were built and ocean liners eventually came up to the back doors of Tampa's business houses. The banks prospered, and in 1906 Mr. Clewis and others organized the Bank of West Tampa. And how did Tampa bankers meet the critical situation in 1906 when the whole country had a currency panic? There were nine banks in Tampa then, and they had total resources of $8 million. But there was no Federal Reserve System, and the fat balances they carried in reserve centers were all tied up so that none of the Tampa banks could get cash. One night each bank had a board meeting, then in twos and threes, nine men drove in hacks to the home of Col. Peter 0. Knight at 325 Hyde Park Avenue. The hour was 1 a.m. It was the first meeting of the Tampa Clearing House Association. T.C. Taliaferro was elected president, C.E. Allen, secretary. Others present were A.C. Clewis, J.A. Griffin, John Trice, J.M. Harvey, J.R. Tatum and Douglas Conoley. A resolution was adopted whereby Clearing House Certificates would be issued and used in place of money for all transactions over a maximum amount agreed on. Then came the ticklish question of the large foreign population engaged in Tampa's greatest industry. Would these slips of paper cause labor troubles? So it was agreed that all cigar payrolls would be filled in cash. And all through the Panic, everything was quiet and orderly in Tampa with no bank trouble and no labor trouble. In 1908 deep water was at Tampa's door, vessels began to arrive and business picked up. If strength and stamina are born of adversity, Tampa should be strong, its banks having a rather unusual record. The First National was only a year old when yellow fever prostrated Tampa. The Exchange National had just started when the Freeze wiped out millions. The Bank of West Tampa was organized just before the Panic of 1907 and later on, the First Savings & Trust Company opened in July, 1914, at the beginning of the World War.


In more recent times, while the rest of the country was riding the crest of the wave of prosperity, Florida's deflation began, and in 1928-29 the Mediterranean fruit fly infestation was one of the greatest blows the state has staggered under, with its attendant troubles, including bank failures. But by the time the balance of the United States began to have trouble after the stock market crash, Tampa and Florida were already picking up the pieces and making plans to work out their situations and carry on. Tampa bankers have constantly co-operated with city and county authorities in working out the financial problems faced by these bodies. The senior officers of Tampa's national banks have come up through the school of experience in their profession which dates back 30 years and more, and they are recognized elsewhere for their ability. During the Wilson Administration, the wartime Comptroller of the Currency, John Skelton Williams, chose two bankers from the State of Florida to represent the state in the organization of the Federal Reserve Sixth District, and those two men were both from Tampa: A.C. Clewis and J.A. Griffin.


Recalling Tampa In World War II By LOUIS FRITZ Many members of the Tampa Historical Society were in service or too young to remember Tampa during the World War II years. I lived in St. Petersburg at the time, but commuted often to Tampa from 1942 to 1945 to ship out in the Merchant Marine. In recalling those days, just out of the depression, Tampa had changed little for many years. I shall try to recall Tampa and its activities as I remember it at that time. Tampa always had some shipbuilding as far back as World War I. In 1942, and even before that, new ships were being built for freight which became transportation for war supplies under the War Shipping Administration. New shipyards were being built or old ones renovated for mine sweepers, submarine tenders and concrete ships. The yards were also busy repairing ships and fixing up for war service. This brought a big influx of workers who had to have housing and transportation to their jobs. There was little new housing in construction, for all effort was devoted to war service. One of the concrete ships produced in Tampa during the war.


Large truck trailers were used to carry workers from downtown to the shipyards and they loaded on the west side of Tampa and Tyler Streets. There were some small stores and a two-story house on the corner, now a parking lot. Hotels such as the DeSoto, Tampa Terrace and the Bayview were filled and have since been torn down. On the east side of the Hillsborough River from Lafayette Street (now Kennedy Boulevard) to Cass Street were meat packing houses supplied by freight cars. At Cass Street was the Jackson Grain Co. The Tampa Electric Company had the streetcar franchise in the city, and the fare was a nickel. Some streetcars had four wheels which tended to jerk the passengers when turns were made. The larger ones had the usual eight wheels. One line ran down to the Luckenbach docks at the foot of Franklin St. The nice long ride was the Port Tampa line which ran down Interbay Boulevard to Ballast Point and then along the Bayshore to Rome Avenue on its way downtown. The Newberry store at Cass and Franklin was the finest "five and ten" in the State of Florida. After the war it was the spot to go for inexpensive meals, with two dining counters, one in the basement. The manager paid out of his pocket to keep excellent cooks on top of their salaries. The waterfront was a busy place. United Fruit Co. ships came in with their loads of bananas and smaller ships with fruit from the Central American countries. There were always plenty of tankers bringing in gasoline and fuel oil and foreign flag ships coming in for cargoes overseas. Concrete ships were built where the American Shipbuilding Company is now located. Concrete ships were built in World War I to save lumber and steel. New designs called for supposedly lighter concrete, using Fuller's earth, but at least six mesh of -Burgert Brothers Collection, Special Collections, Tampa/Hillsborough County Public LibraryThe Rialto Theater on upper Franklin Street was still drawing crowds in '40s.


reinforcing rods made them heavier than steel ships. According to what I was told, one concrete ship took two torpedoes without effect. I was on one of the first four to be released from the shipyard. Plywood was used for the upper aft housing. Since the normal five-pound guns would have broken away from their foundations, an 1898 Coast Guard one-pound rifle was its armament. The ordinary speed of these ships was 7 knots, and only when we got into the Gulf Stream did we make 10 knots. It took us 21 days to get to New York, stopping in Jacksonville for repairs. When we got to New York, the ship had to be overhauled in the engine room, as the inexperienced workers at Tampa had made many errors. In fairness to most shipyard workers, they soon learned their jobs. Actually, the ships in the war were better built than those made today under the Maritime Commission. We were loaded with concrete for England, as we learned later. Those first four ships were slated to be sunk as breakwaters for D-Day (in the invasion of Normandy). Many of those concrete ships saw plenty of service, and one sailed around the world. When the contract was finished, the newer ships of that design were made out of steel but their comparatively small size was uneconomical. There was plenty of wartime train traffic, both freight and passenger, the latter always filled up. Steam locomotives were used. The Silver Meteor of the Seaboard Air Line Railroad boasted less than 24 hours from Tampa, to New York. The Atlantic Coast Line had its Champion. I never had trouble getting a seat as a merchant mariner, with priority in transportation. However, other servicemen came first in the dining cars, and well deserved the priority. Time marches on, and many changes have come to Tampa. However, those war days were exciting. Franklin Street beyond Cass was filled with stores and restaurants. The State Theater on Franklin Street near Cass has just been torn down. Another theater, The Rialto, featured burlesque shows. After the war, fine foreign films from France were shown featuring Louis Jouvet and Simone Signoret, and despite the lurid sex advertising were not so at all. The fine old theater in Ybor City behind the Centro Espanol showed fine Mexican classic films such as the "Count of Monte Cristo" with Arturo de Cordova, who also acted in many American films. The house was so packed that we had to sit on the stairs. Another fine picture was a Mexican setting of De Maupassant's "Ball of Fat." The Centro Asturiano featured Mexican and Spanish stage entertainment. We cannot turn back time, but we can recall interesting events of the past.


Meet The Authors H. WAYNE BEVIS a fourth generation native of Florida, was born in Blountstown but moved to Lakeland in 1911 and considers it hometown. He attended Emory University and the University of Florida. Bevis came to Tampa in 1932 with the Hillsborough County Budget Commission, later worked for Peninsular Telephone, then joined Eastern Air Lines in 1943. In 1946 he b ecame district sales manager, and in 1971 he concluded 28 years with the airline as Disney Project Coordinator. Over the years he was president of the downtown Lions Club, the Presidents' Round Table, USO chapter and Florida West Coast Skal Club. JUNE WELLER CONNOR died in March 1977 at the age of 89. Born in St. Louis, Mich., she came to Tampa in 1894 and graduated from Hillsborough High in 1904. Mrs. Connor was an employee of Exchange National bank for more than 25 years, closely involved in its advertising and public relations. She was the first Florida member of the National Association of Bank Women, a charter member of the Zonta Club and an organizer of Girls Club of Tampa. DR. JAMES W. COVINGTON is Dana professor of history at the University of Tampa and a past president of Tampa Historical Society. He received the D.B. McKay Award for his contributions to Florida history. Dr. Covington has written five books the most recent The Billy Bowlegs War and many scholarly articles. HAMPTON DUNN is celebrating 50 years in Florida journalism, radio, TV broadcasting and public relations. A native of Citrus County, he has lived in Tampa longer than anywhere else. Presently senior vice president of Peninsula Motor Club (AAA), he was for years managing editor of The Tampa Daily Times Dunn is chairman of the Historic Tampa/ Hillsborough Country Preservation Board, a former president of the Tampa Historical Society, and recipient of the D.B. McKay Award. Author of Yesterday's Tampa (1972), he compiled Tampa: A Pictorial History just published. LOUIS FRITZE died in July 1985 while traveling to visit relatives in New York. A resident of Tampa 35 years, he had come to Florida in 1930. After stowing away on several ships in the 1930s, he worked as a merchant seaman at intervals until 1980. Between voyages, he sold classical music and records at Tampa Art and Music Co. LELAND HAWES JR. is a native Tampan who grew up in Thonotosassa, where he published a weekly newspaper at age 11. A graduate of the University of Florida in 1950, he worked as a reporter for The Tampa Daily Times for two years, then for The Tampa Tribune in various capacities since then. For the last three years he has been writing a history/ nostalgia column. BETTY LANGSTON PHIPPS is a graduate of Plant High and Florida State College for Women. She married Dick Phipps in 1942 and spent 25 years as a Navy wife in the U.S. and overseas. She was a "professional volunteer" with Navy Relief, Family Service, Red Cross and welcoming committees. After moving home to Tampa, she taught social studies for several years at Plant High. She has written "Town Topics" for The Tampa Tribune for 11 years. TONY PIZZO first president of Tampa Historical Society and a recipient of the D.B. McKay Award, is a native of Ybor City and author of Tampa Town 1824-1886 and co-author of Tampa, The Treasure City He has been the prime force in spreading historic markers in Tampa. For years with Tampa Wholesale Liquor Co., Inc., he retired as vice president and general manager of Fruit Wines of Florida, Inc. Pizzo was named Tampa's outstanding citizen by the Civitan Club in 1956 and Ybor City's "Man of the Year" in 1954,1976 and 1985. He holds the official designation County Historian. ARSENIO M. SANCHEZ a native of West Tampa, became interested in history of the area when asked to research buildings for a Rey Park mural. He attended West Tampa Academy of Holy names (St. Joseph Parochial School), Sacred Heart College (Jesuit High School) and graduated from Plant High in 1937. He served in the Navy during World War II and graduated from the University of Florida in 1951. Sanchez was employed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture until he retired in 1978. ROBERT A. TAYLOR recently received his master's degree in American history at the University of South Florida and is currently working on his doctorate at Florida BEVIS CONNOR COVINGTON DUNN FRITZE


State University. Taylor served on the editorial staff of Tampa Bay History while at USF. In his research for a thesis on Florida's role as a supplier of beef cattle for the Confederacy, he came upon a collection of letters written by Tampa's Capt. James McKay dating from the Civil War era. HAWES PHIPPS PIZZO SANCHEZ TAYLOR


Annual Report To The Tampa Historical Society It has been customary for the President to submit via the Sunland Tribune an annual report to you the members of the Tampa Historical Society. Instead let me for a moment look ahead as to what we might expect for the coming years as they too will soon become history. Our headquarters building although a "neat cottage" and in good repair is far too inadequate for safe and proper storage and display of our archives. It also affords no meeting room facilities that we (and the City) need so badly. Our outlook, excellent, as your Board and officers have pursued this with diligence, and good news of this subject may soon be coming. A full-time director is a must. During this past year we saw our long time faithful Glenn Westfall resign as he moved on to other endeavors. Certainly we owe Glenn a debt of sincere gratitude for his many years of diligent service. The outlook is not as bright as for a headquarters site for although we have a base to partially fund a full-time leader it would take considerable expansion of our membership rolls plus State grants and aids to make that possible. Your officers and board are addressing the problem with diligence and with your aid will solve this very soon. Please afford them your counsel and aid. Our programs for you the members should be increased not only in quality but in those which relate more directly to you the members. We can expect an expanded youth Richard S. Clarke


program, as they need to be made more aware of their traditions and our activities. These are but a few of the items you may look forward to as your new leadership takes over. But again none can be successful without your aid and participation in the programs. Your financial outlook is fine, thanks to the efforts of your Treasurer Howell McKay. You at last have a advertisement-free Sunland Tribune that will always be a keepsake, thanks to our Editor Leland Hawes. Your programs were excellent in quality, thanks to Nancy Skemp and Annie Kate Carpenter. Lois Latimer with helpers Kathy Parish and Jean Man sicano have kept up with the mail and office organization. And who could do without the everfaithful and helpful, Wayne Bevis who kept us from stumbling many a time. Yes, thanks to all you board and officers, the conditions are good and the outlook bright. With the super help of Tony Pizzo, we also will have installed four commemorative markers. In case you do not know it, Tampa Historical Society probably has more markers on display in Hillsborough County than any other society in the State of Florida. Thank you for having been a part of this in the past year and as we move to certainly better and bigger accomplishments, I assure you of my help. My best wishes and thanks to each of you for having afforded me the privilege of being your President. Sincerely, Richard S. Clarke President


1985 SUNLAND TRIBUNE PATRONS Tampa Historical Society wishes to express its sincere thanks to the following individuals and organizations who have generously contributed $25.00 or more for the publication costs of this issue of the Sunland Tribune Atlantic Bancorporation Mr. & Mrs. W.J. Barritt, Jr. Mr. & Mrs. Ralph Beaver Mrs. E. Ballard Bradley Mr. & Mrs. Guy Burnette, Jr. Miss Mary Carnes Annie-Kate B. Carpenter Mr. & Mrs. Mack T. Christian Richard and Adele M. Clarke James A. & Barbara Clendinen Ruth L. Cooper Molly C. Corum Mr. & Mrs. B. W. Council, Sr. James W. Covington George D. Curtis, Jr. Mr. & Mrs. Bobbie C. Davis Mr. & Mrs. Sam F. Davis Mr. & Mrs. Louis De La Parte, Jr. Norbert G. Didier Mr. & Mrs. E. B. Dodson Mrs. David A. Falk Dr. J. Brown Farrior Mr. & Mrs. J. Rex Farrior Mr. & Mrs. J. L. Ferman Mr. & Mrs. Lester P. Fisher Julia M. Flom Loyal & Louise Frisbie Garrison Glass Co., Inc. Marjorie A. Gay Mr. & Mrs. Leonard H. Gilbert Mr. & Mrs. Joseph G. Gillen Glendale Federal Savings & Loan Mrs. Paul L. Gloger Mr. & Mrs. Paul H. Gonzalez Mrs. Jack Gunn Mr. & Mrs. James Halsema John M. Hammer Associates, Inc. George W. Harvey, Jr. Mr. & Mrs. Lon Hatton Leland M. Hawes, Jr. Mrs. L. M. Hawes Mr. & Mrs. John P. Hilburn F. J. Howard Mrs. Margaret Hurner Dr. & Mrs. James M. Ingram George N. Johnson, Jr. Mr. & Mrs. James S. Judy Mrs. J. Velma Keen Guy and Anne King Mrs. Lawson P. Kiser Mr. & Mrs. C. L. Knight Mr. & Mrs. Julian B. Lane Mr. & Mrs. Sam Latimer James E. & Idalyne Lawhon Mr. & Mrs. John R. Lawson Lawson, McWhirter, Grandoff and Reeves, P.A. Mr. & Mrs. Fred Learey Mr. & Mrs. Claude D. Logan, Jr. Marie W. Major Markborough Florida, Inc. Mr. & Mrs. Ralph Marsicano Mr. & Mrs. Sirman Marvil Mr. & Mrs. Armando Mendez Mr. & Mrs. Sam Militello Mr. & Mrs. Kent S. Miller John C. Mills, Jr. Mr. & Mrs. Sam Mirabella Mr. & Mrs. A. S. Moffett Mrs. Earl Mullen Mrs. Bessie-Ruth McAbee Donald McKay Mr. & Mrs. Herbert G. McKay Mr. & Mrs. Howell A. McKay Mr. & Mrs. Frank P. McMichael Judge & Mrs. Neil C. McMullen Miss Elia Napoli Mr. & Mrs. T. Burt Nelson


Mr. & Mrs. Lester Olson Gen. & Mrs. F. T. Pachler Parsnip Hollow Products Dr. & Mrs. Louis 0. Pasetti Sallie Mae Phillips Dr. & Mrs. Anthony J. Pizzo Mr. & Mrs. Anthony P. Pizzo Mr. & Mrs. Carlis W. Poppell Gladys R. Randell Mr. & Mrs. Frank L. Rosenblatt Mr. & Mrs. W. Pat Rosier Mr. & Mrs. Arsenio Sanchez Mr. & Mrs. Robert E. Sims Mr. & Mrs. E. Lamar Sparkman Spicola Hardware Co., Inc. Dick & Raymetta Stowers Mr. & Mrs. J. H. Tanner Mr. & Mrs. J. G. Taylor, Jr. Charlotte Anne Thompson J. Thomas Touchton Mr. & Mrs. W. J. Turbeville, Jr. Kathryn Hill Turner Sylvia Corral Vega Martha C. Ward Mr. & Mrs. G. Pierce Wood, Jr. Rafael & Cecilia Martinez-Ybor Mr. & Mrs. Victor Yeats


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