ShapingFlorida-Brenda Rees-History

Bob’s article has many special remembrances of his and Mickey Wesley’s life. Mickey was the youngest of the nine children of William and Katie Wesley, builders of the “Wesley House” now in area known as Eden Gardens State Park in Pt. Washington, Florida. “Moon-dreaming” is a story about Bob and Mickey’s first date in South Walton at Eastern Lake. It wasn’t their “first” date as you’ll see by the story, but perhaps you can capture some of the romance one full moon night as you relax along the beach in South Walton, Florida. – Brenda Rees, Shaping Florida

Moonset Over Eastern Lake by Brenda Rees -- Shaping Florida

(page 19) It was to be a long fourth of July weekend that summer of 1938, and I looked forward to spending it with my new girl friend, Marie Louise Wesley, known by all her friends as Mickey. We had met on a blind date just a few months earlier, and had been seeing a lot of each other prior to the end of her regular school term at the University of Florida’s P.K. Yonge Laboratory School where she was the school nurse. She had left the first part of June to spend her summer vacation at the cottage she had built a few years earlier at Eastern Lake, a few miles East of Seagrove Beach. Mickey’s brother, Edgar, and I would drive over from Gainesville after classes Friday evening to join Edgar’s wife, Sarah, Mickey and a couple of her friends at the cottage.

I was completing my first year as a Teaching Fellow in the University of Florida’s School of Forestry and Edgar was attending summer school to upgrade his teaching certificate. Mickey had introduced me to Edgar shortly after he registered for the summer term. I had met her older brother, Guy, when I went to pick her up for our blind date. I was yet to meet two other brothers, Rupert and Billy, and an older sister, Mable Burlison, who lived in Point Washington, close by her parent’s home, the Wesley estate, one of the historic landmarks of the area.

The long drive from Gainesville took us through the remote San Pedro Bay area, south of Perry, where cautious driving was necessary to avoid cattle which roamed freely over the unfenced range. After several near misses, where we had to slow to a snails pace to work our way through groups of cattle bedded down on the cool road surface, we finally reached Perry and then made good time to Tallahassee, arriving around 9:30 PM. From there, we headed towards Marianna on US 90. Going by way of Blountstown would have been much shorter, but we couldn’t (page 20) chance missing the last trip of the ferry over the Applachicola River at the new bridge site just east of Blountstown. We made good time, however, since the likelihood of cattle in the road was minimal. We drove through Quincy, Chattahoochee and Marianna without incident and reached Cottondale, where we turned south towards Panama City. Since we had gained an hour when we entered the Central Time Zone near Chatachoochee, we were less than 100 miles from our destination and it was only 10:30 PM.

We made good time on US 231 until a few miles beyond Youngstown, when the engine started to skip and I realized that we were running out of gas. About a half-hour later we were able to hail a car coming our way and the driver agreed to push us to the nearest service station, which he claimed was about 5 miles on down the road. We then began one of the wildest rides I’ve ever experienced. The accommodating driver, who apparently was pretty well into his booze, pushed us at speeds of nearly 50 mph for what seemed like an eternity. Luckily, the road was straight and we met few cars and didn’t catch up with any going our way.

Edgar and I both were quite relieved when the pusher eased off and let us pull into what looked like a roadside jook joint with a gas pump out front. Our benefactor would take nothing but our thanks for his efforts, and hastened on with his friends towards Panama City.

We were able to get our gas, but had difficulty convincing the lady at the cash register that we did not have time to stop a while and have some fun. After promising to come back at a later date, we finally managed to get back on the road. Laughingly, we decided that we had probably stumbled upon something a little more alluring than a jook joint. And we had fun accusing one another of being the primary object of the “madam’s” attention. We agreed that this would make a great story to relate to those awaiting us at the cottage.

After passing through a sleeping Panama City and along the bay front at Saint Andrews, we crossed the bay bridge and headed west on US 98. We saw very little traffic until we reached (page 21) the Panama City Beach area, where there seemed to be a few people taking in the night life at the few dance halls and eating places scattered along the highway. After this, there seemed little development except in a few scattered locations where roads came into the beach highway from the north. The road ran right along the beach for several miles and I was provided my first view of the mighty Gulf, which seemed almost as calm and peaceful as one of the lakes in my native Indiana. A full moon partially illuminated the scene, with a golden pathway of light being reflected from the slightly turbulent water.

All too soon the road curved inland. We then crossed the bridge over the Inlet and headed on west through a corridor of what appeared to be scrubby hardwoods and pine trees, underlain by palmetto and low shrubs. Ten minutes or so of travel along this isolated stretch brought us across what Edgar called Peach Tree Creek and to Holley’s store and gas pump. Following Edgar’s directions, I turned into a rather indistinct, narrow sand road directly across from the store and headed south towards the beach. The going was slow, requiring considerable care to stay in the ruts when we passed over sandy spots. It was obvious that leaving the ruts in such places might result in getting stuck. Fortunately, the sandy stretches were interspersed with short intervals of more solid ground, which would afford a turn out in the event of meeting another vehicle. After a seemingly endless journey, which actually was less than two miles, our road dropped down a slight grade and we practically crawled across a rather rickety wooden bridge over a narrow neck of the upper end of Eastern Lake. It took a couple of attempts to climb the incline on the opposite shore, and then we were finally on the last stage of our journey. The remaining half mile or so was deep sand all the way. Deep ruts and scuffed up places at several locations suggested trouble experienced by previous travelers. Edgar pointed out several spots that he had been stuck in. We were most fortunate that a good rain had fallen on the area a few days earlier, helping make the ruts more firm than they might have been otherwise.

(page 22) So, we eventually reached the drive into the cottage, aptly named “Happy Landing”, blowing our horn to announce our arrival and awakening our hostess and friends at about 2 AM Saturday morning. They had long since decided not to wait up for us; however, they were out in minutes with glaring flashlights to give us a most welcome greeting. Several kerosene lamps and a coleman lantern were soon burning to illuminate the interior of the beautiful little cottage. A hour or so later, after we had refreshed ourselves with a beer and a snack of cold crab meat and left over hush puppies, wild tales and conversation began to ebb and all the group, except Mickey and I, found their way to bed. I was so up-tight after the long drive, and so interested in the new surroundings and the reunion with my girl friend, that sleep would have been impossible. Mickey sensed this and suggested that the two of us take a moonlight walk to the gulf.

Leaving the cottage, we walked barefoot, arm in arm along the edge of the lake, pausing now and then to remark about the beauty of the scene before us. The opposite shore of the lake was vaguely visible, but clear enough to indicate a sizeable body of water. Towards the gulf, ghostly white sand dunes monopolized the view. They extend as far as eye could see in an east-west direction. To our front, however, they were interrupted by a pass of some one hundred yards which apparently had been breached by high water in the lake, helped by high tides and heavy waves of the gulf during hurricanes. A narrow body of shallow water extended through the pass, angling westerly. It ended thirty or so yards short of the surf, two feet or more lower than the sand of the beach and well below the apparent high tide mark.

Mickey related her previous experiences in opening up the lake when it was full of rain water. During an ebb tide, a ditch of one or two feet in width was dug from the edge of the lake to the waters of the gulf. Being several feet above the gulf level at that time, the water would flow rapidly from the lake, eating away the edges of the ditch and expanding rapidly into (page 23) a broad stream of fast flowing water that would soon be twenty or more feet wide. Water would continue flowing from the lake until the level matched that of the water in the gulf. Eventually gulf water would flow into and out of the lake during high and low tides, intermingling with the fresh lake water and increasing its salinity. For a week or so thereafter, before sand thrown up by the surf could close the opening, the lake would become an extension of the gulf. During this period, small game fish such as trout, redfish and flounder, as well as blue crabs and other marine species, would migrate into the lake in search of food. Many would become landlocked as the lake closed, eventually stocking the lake with a goodly supply of salt water fish. Mickey stated that net fishermen had depleted the population somewhat in recent years, but in earlier days redfish and trout were taken from the lake regularly. “Even today”, she said, “we can catch trout and an occasional redfish; and, tomorrow night I’ll show you how to gig some nice flounder.”

The view down the beach was impressive. The sugary white sand seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, and the sound of the low swells, breaking on the beach so regularly, almost lulled us to sleep as we relaxed on the sand just above the waters edge. We had the place entirely to ourselves. As far as we could see along the beach, there was no sign of life, except a faint glow on the eastern and western horizons, apparently from the lights at Panama City and Ft. Walton. It was easy to imagine ourselves as the sole occupants of a beautiful tropical paradise, completely oblivious to the trials and worries of the everyday world.

After an indeterminable interlude of “moon-dreaming” and fond caressing, which undoubtedly left both of us with great expectations regarding the future of our relationship, we reluctantly and sleepily made our way back to the cottage. It would be but a few hours until sunrise. … to be continued

Here are a few more moonsets to enjoy from Eastern Lake and South Walton Beaches. All pictures (c) by Brenda Rees. (Will be adding more pictures soon to go with these cutlines.)

See similar picture at beginning of this Moon-dreaming blog.

A full moon is ready to set over Eastern Lake in South Walton, Florida. It was a full moon like this that captivated Bob Swinford on his first trip to South Walton in the 1930s. A beautiful moonset over Eastern Lake and the Gulf provided the perfect backdrop for his date with his future wife, Mickey Wesley. His story,as sent to me a few years ago, follows. Early travel roads and secrets are a bonus. Enjoy "Moon-dreaming." Picture (c) Brenda Rees, All Rights Reserved

The Wesley House at Eden Gardens State Park in Pt. Washington, Florida. This is how Mickey's family house in Pt. Washington mentioned in this story looks today. I've made Christmas Cards from this photograph. If you are in SoWal at Christmas, the tour of the Wesley House is a Holiday must do. Tours are available all year. The Wesley family would travel from Pt. Washington to the beach at Eastern Lake. They would cross that old bridge Bob mentions in his story. The Wesley House was built in 1897. John Wesley had a land grant in Pt. Washington in 1895. They went to the beach at Eastern Lake.

"Happy Landing" sketch by Bob Swinford. Bob sent me a copy of his sketch of Mickey Wesley's house on Eastern Lake in 1938. He says "only cottage on Eastern Lake 1938."This sketch goes well with his "moon-dreaming." Eastern Lake is where the Wesley family came to the beach.

Bob Swinford has this picture of his wedding day in1938 displayed at his home. Picture is at back of Wesley House now part of Eden State Gardens in Pt. Washington,Florida. Bob said the back rooms to the left no longer exist.

Bob Swinford's painted plate of Mickey's early house on Eastern Lake. Picture by Brenda Rees.

Portrait of Bob and Mickey Wesley Swinford displayed at their home in Gainesville. Picture of this portrait taken during recent visit with Bob, August 2009. He is still very interested in Eastern Lake, the Wesley House, Eden State Gardens and South Walton. Mickey passed away several years ago. They had been married 67 years.

Brenda Rees and Bob Swinford in Gainesville, Florida.

Current picture of Mickey Wesley Swinford's house on Eastern Lake. Photograph by Brenda Rees

Old Eastern Lake Bridge as it looks today. Described by Bob Swinford in Moon-dreaming.

An old sand road near the historic and old Eastern Lake Bridge mentioned in "Moon-dreaming." This illustrates Bob's description of the sand road he took to South Walton back in 1938 for his date with Mickey Wesley. The Wesley Family would travel from what is now Eden State Gardens down sand roads like this to their beach property at Eastern Lake.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Anna's Stories - Camp Walton History

Staffs of Camp Walton came to work for Anna's Uncle L.I. Smith of Camp Walton and DeFuniak Springs around 1913...

Anna's Stories by Brenda Rees (c) All Rights Reserved Photographs from the Anna Smith/Sonny Hollingsworth Collection presented by Brenda Rees - Shaping Florida (c)

Anna's story reveals details about Camp Walton / Ft. Walton Beach that many don't know or have forgotten. What a wonderful beach camp on the sound. Many of these pictures and notes are not included in other publications. The Smiths were certainly early resort pioneers in this resort driven beach community.
As a historic and well known resort area on the Emerald Coast, more exposure to Ft. Walton Beach's past is important. Its beautiful and strategic location attracted early natives, explorers, the best entrepreneurs and daring individuals. The high elevation of this area protected early native peoples and provided strategic harbors and sites for the military over many years. The beautiful dunes and sand satisfied a sophisticated and demanding beach crowd. Boating and fishing were long part of Ft. Walton Beach's legacy and livelihood.

Anna’s Stories – Camp Walton – Brenda Rees – Shaping Florida
© Brenda Rees All Rights Reserved
Transcript from handwritten paper by Anna Smith Hollingsworth Reardon (33 pages)
Typed by Brenda Rees – Shaping Florida 5-28-2009
From Anna’s papers left with her son Sonny Hollingsworth and presented to me.
(Sonny is married to my mother, Gloria.)
“Lewis Irvin Smith (1845-1932)
Anna Durinda Brown Smith (1843-1929)
As recalled by Anna Smith Reardon
DeFuniak Springs, Fla.
9-10-78

…page 15 ...Uncle and Auntie soon bought and found a summer home near the Gulf of Mexico. It was (and still is) in Camp Walton (now Fort Walton Beach,) facing the sound and just west of the Sheraton Marina Inn. They spent their summers there for several years. Uncle bought a

Page 16 nice cabin cruiser, or launch, and named it the “Anna.” He built a boat house near the front of his house, he never learned to operate the boat, but persuaded his friends, Mr. and Mrs. E.S. Buck, to move from DeFuniak Springs to Camp Walton. Mr. Buck bought or built a water front home nearby, for his family, which included a son, Ralph and a daughter Mabel (now Mrs. Mabel Buchanan who still lives in Ft. Walton Beach.) Mr. Buck built a general store over the water, to the west of the boat house. He dispensed gasoline to boats, sold all kinds of merchandise, and for many years was the village post master, with the post office in one corner of the store. On the days Uncle and Auntie chose to take a boat ride, Mr. Buck was the pilot and engineer. One favorite trip

Page 17 was to Camp Pinchot to visit Mr. and Mrs. I.F. Eldridge (Mr. Eldridge was the National Forester.) Another was to the Elce Studios, where a brother and two sisters painted in oils, had hand painted china for sale, as well as hand carved wooden articles. On most trips, Uncle bought hand painted china for Auntie and for friends. He commissioned one of the artists to paint two oil paintings. I have one.
I’m fairly sure that Uncle had a financial interest in the “Brooks House,” one of the earliest hotels in Camp Walton. I recall it as an unpainted two-story frame building. My family often visited Uncle and Auntie at Camp Walton, and we took meals at the “Brooks House” occasionally. A recent history of the area calls this the “Brooks Hotel” but I don’t

Page 18 recall ever hearing it called by that name. It was located about where the Sheraton Marina Inn is now.
Uncle was not entirely satisfied with the location of his house, so soon disposed of it and bought the “Gulfview Hotel” and the house just west of it. I don’t recall who ran the hotel at that time, or whether it was being operated. I do remember that Uncle L.I. entered into an agreement with the Staff and Gerlach families, whereby they came from Indiana to operate the hotel. Uncle and Auntie spent their summers in the cottage next door and took their meals at the hotel. One summer, I remember that my parents and I, with my sister and brother, Kenneth, stayed for two weeks at the hotel. Other summers we stayed at the cottage and took our meals at the

Page 19 hotel. Uncle and Auntie were very hospitable, one summer, the vacation group included a friend of the family, Miss Steptoe Campbell of King William, Va. My older brothers took their vacations with Uncle and Auntie, as well as many others.
When we were there, Papa would row us to a swimming spot west of Camp Walton, called “the shallows.” This was usually before breakfast. Also, at least once a day we went by row boat or launch to Santa Rosa Island where we walked across and bathed in the gulf. The island was entirely uninhabited and without litter of any kind.
I remember the day the Staffs and Gerlachs arrived from Indiana on one of the passenger boats that traveled from Pensacola to Freeport. After that, we enjoyed

Page 20 bountiful meals of good German cooking. Miss Agnes Gerlach often made twenty pies in the morning. She did most of the baking, but I believe Mrs. Staff, her sister, made the bread. Miss Frances Gerlach ran a store built over the water. Mr. Staff had a fine garden, fished, and raised pigs and cows, thus providing most of the food for the hotel. They were a musical family, and often joined the guests in singing and playing musical instruments at night.
In the early years, travel to Camp Walton was by boat from Freeport. Sometimes we came home by way of Pensacola, traveling by train for the last lap. I can recall trips on the “Captain Fritz,” a stern wheeler, the “Charles E. Cessna,” a side wheeler, the “Eugene,” a double deck gasoline

Page 21 powered boat, and possibly others. The “Ruth” was the mail launch for many years, and took passengers, but it was small, so we never traveled on it.
Within a few years the Staffs and Gerlachs had bought the hotel. Meanwhile, Uncle had loaned money to Mr. Charles Shipley, who ran “The Cedars,” a hotel at Mary Esther, a few miles west of Camp Walton. Uncle and Auntie had wearied of the summer crowds at Camp Walton, so built their final vacation home on Santa Rosa Sound at Mary Esther. When we visited there, we usually had our meals at “The Cedars,” and sometimes they were prepared in a small house in the yard by a cook. Auntie didn’t like the odor of cooking food in the house, so the completely equipped kitchen was

Page 22 seldom, if ever used. The house had a basement and a furnace, two bath rooms and two large, wide porches.
All these years, Uncle and Auntie returned to their “Wiscasset” home in DeFuniak Springs for the winter months. When the roads became passable, one of my brothers or my grandfather would furnish transportation for them back and forth to Mary Esther. Uncle and Grand-dad bought at least two cars together (a Maxwell and a Dodge), but Uncle never learned to drive. (I recall that I was terribly embarrassed because much of Uncle and Auntie’s luggage was wrapped in newspaper and tied with string, though they owned elegant leather luggage.) ...

End of this installation of Anna’s Stories – Camp Walton – Brenda Rees – Shaping Florida
See the other blogs by Brenda Rees – Shaping Florida to learn about the Real History of the Real Florida. (I'm working on transferring all of Anna's Stories to new blog site)

HOW DID I END UP WITH ANNA'S STORIES AND PICTURES?
Anna Smith was also known as Anna Reardon, News reporter and historian. Her only son, Sonny Hollingsworth, is married to my mother. That is how I came by these pictures and stories. They were cleaning out attic in DeFuniak one day and found this box of her hand written notes and pictures.