Hold the Line: Sea Bathing in Florida

The beaches of Florida have been in the news quite a bit lately. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the state has wrestled with whether to keep them open for exercise and recreation or shut them down as a way of enforcing social distancing. Images of crowded beaches full of spring breakers reinforced the absurdity of the governor's early policy to limit the spread of the virus. "The beaches are the state’s definitive cultural, physical asset and economic asset" stated an article in the Tampa Bay Times that reviewed the state's inconsistent policies of beach closures.

But to Florida's first visitors of European descent, its beaches were not considered an asset at all – there are no accounts of 16th century Spaniards shedding their armor to bask in their new colony's sun and surf. But near the dawn of the 20th century, Florida's salubrious seashore began to be developed, and one of the primary reasons was that it was believed that sea bathing was beneficial for one's health. Victorian-era bathers, somewhat timidly, eased their way into the surf, even if they didn't know how to swim.

The Power of Water
By the time that Europeans reached the New World, they had a complex relationship with the sea and water itself, recognizing it both as the substance that sustained life and a force that could have incredible destructive qualities. Early civilizations attributed water's power to spiritual entities living beneath the waves, and ancient cultures both feared and revered water. In "The Beach: The History of Paradise on Earth" by Lena Lencek and Gideon Bokser, they describe ancient man's relationship with the beach as a "liminal space of encounters between Manichean forces of good and evil: between earth and water, man and nature, the civil and the savage, life and death." In order to see the beach as a source of recreation and restoration, man had to first "shed the shackles of mythology" and perhaps, more importantly, the concept of free time, "the most radical and most elusive of human commodities," had to be invented.

"Mythical monsters swarmed in the depths of the seas,
preying on sailors and unwary swimmers" according to Lencek and Bosker

The practice of visiting the beach for health and leisure originated in the eighteenth century and was the result of two developments. The first was the Grand Tour, where well-to-do gentlemen re-discovered the culture of the ancient world while touring the European continent. The second development that led to sea bathing was the ancient practice of taking the waters by soaking in and drinking water from mineral springs. The 18th-century saw an eruption of elaborate spas at mineral springs that led to a culture of bathing throughout Europe at places such as Bath, England, and Spa, Belgium.

"The sons of elite English families of the 17th,18th, and early 19th centuries often spent two to four years traveling around Europe as an extension of their education to broaden their horizons and learn about language, architecture, geography, and culture in an experience known as the Grand Tour." - Antique Almanac

Spa, Belgium: figures making their way towards the Pouhon mineral fountain, 1762.

The Evolution of Sea Bathing
Bathing in seawater for medicinal purposes originated at the seaside town of Scarborough on England's northeastern coast. While sea-loving cultures of Mediterranean often reveled in recreational pursuits at the beach, it was a novel idea to enter the sea intentionally in the cold, murky waters of England. But when sea bathing for healthful purposes became the vogue in the 1700s, the coast of Britain was bursting with seaside resorts in places like Brighton, Weymouth, Margate, and Blackpool. The phenomena spread beyond Britain, according to Lencek and Bokser, and the monopoly of the "therapeutic British beach was gradually challenged along the Atlantic seashore." That included seaside resorts in Belgium, Holland, France, and eventually the United States. Bathing machines – covered wagons pulled into the surf – allowed female bathers to enter the water with a degree of modesty (while male bathers often swam naked.) These were popular in England in the nineteenth century as few well-to-do ladies knew how to swim. Attendants called "dippers" assisted bathers in and out of the water.

"Mermaids at Brighton"

Bathing machine circa the 1920s

Sea Bathing in the New World
In the 1800s, Cape May on the Jersey shore became a popular destination to escape from crowded city-life in Philadelphia. Atlantic City appealed to the masses, while the elite found the beaches at places like Bar Harbor, Maine and Newport, Rhode Island more to their liking. Despite the fact that in the early 19th century, most upper-class individuals did not know how to swim, the phenomena of bathing machines was not popular in the States. Swimming was associated with"amusement and physical vigor" which was taboo unless it was undertaken for the purposes of "spiritual or mental development" according to religious beliefs of the period, claims author Jeff Wiltse in the book "Contested Waters." The author claims that the paradigm around swimming began to shift around the midcentury, as the growing middle class, as well as upper classes, started to spend time in seaside resorts and rural retreats dubbed "watering places." With the industrial revolution came increased leisure time and it became acceptable to travel for pleasure and recreation, a concept heretofore unheard of. In America, social reforms were linked to health movements and the then-novel idea of eating a healthy diet and exercising regularly became popular, preached by reformers such as Dr. Harvey Kellogg at his Battle Creek Sanitarium. Bathing and swimming were considered desirable, healthy pursuits.

The bathe at Newport  from Harper's Weekly, 1858

Breathing exercises at the Battle Creek Sanitarium

Discovering the Beaches of Florida
Florida's early cities developed at sites where there were good safe harbors for sailing vessels, but until the 19th century, most of the coastline was underutilized at it was seen to possess little value for agriculture or commerce. Key West, St. Augustine, and Pensacola were the most populated cities, and they all were believed to possess therapeutic waters for sea bathing. But it wasn't until after the Civil War, when northerners started venturing into the state in large numbers to escape harsh winters, that the state's coasts started being seen as an asset. The elegant seaside resorts created along the Atlantic by Henry Flagler, helped establish Florida as the "American Riviera."

Advertising published by the Florida East Coast Railway

Winter bathing is featured in this FEC Railway brochure

Sea bathing, (also called surf bathing), was an essential part of the appeal of these Gilded Age retreats, and photos of the beach from this era show the popularity of the beach. What is also evident, is that despite the growth of popularity in swimming, many of the visitors to the beach were inexperienced swimmers at best. "Lifeguard observation towers, cork-filled life belts, and the surf reel–a giant spool of strong rope– became standard pieces of surfside equipment, "writes Lencek and Bosker. In photos of the beaches at Flagler's Palm Beach resorts produced by the Detroit Publishing Co., safety lines are evident extending far into the surf. Based on postcards and photos of this time period, these safety lines were a critical part of the beach experience, offering means for bathing to those who could not swim. Safety lines are often seen in images of springs where visitors took the waters as well. Eventually, as the popularity of swimming grew, Flagler built saltwater pools surrounded by bathing casino structures and staffed by swimming instructors.

A postcard shows safety line extending into the surf in Miami

The safety line extends across the image from left to right

Note the safety line featured in this image from Palm Beach

Sea bathers in Pensacola (FHS image)

At the dawn of the 20th century in Florida, carefully venturing into the therapeutic surf clutching a safety line was replaced by the practice of recreational swimming. Today, the beach is seen as a vital asset, when Florida Governor Ron DeSantis re-opened the beaches he said it was important for people to have outlets for getting exercise, sunshine and fresh air. After centuries of being ignored, today the healthful energy of the beach is considered essential to the state's residents and its economy.

The history of sea bathing in the Sunshine State is further explored in my upcoming book, "Florida's Healing Waters," scheduled for publication this fall by the University Press of Florida.

Elegance for sale: Ferncourt in San Mateo Florida

I recently read the following passage in "Mr. Flagler's St. Augustine" by Thomas Graham.

Below Palatka, on the east bank of the St. Johns River, a handful of hearty pioneers had established extensive orange groves. They shipped their fruit out by way of steamboats, but they also wanted a link to Flagler's railroad. Back in March a group of San Mateo citizens had called upon Flagler in St. Augustine and invited him to come down to see the extent of their enterprises. Flagler took them up on their offer, and when they petitioned him for a rail extension and offered to give him land for a right-of-way, he agreed to run a four-mile spur to their village. 

Flagler was so enamored with the little settlement of San Mateo that he purchased two orange groves there, and according to Graham, on New Years Eve Flagler brought the entire population of the town to St. Augustine to celebrate at his ornate Hotel Ponce de Leon.

Florida East Coast Railroad engine #10 and crew, State Archives of Florida

Ralph Crosby, Martha Webster Crosby, maid, and dogs, State Archives of Florida

Railroad freight depot, circa 1891, State Archives of Florida

View in grove of San Mateo Fruit Co., State Archives of Florida

Some facts about San Mateo:

• Located 5 miles south of Palatka on the east side of the St. Johns River, it is the highest point on that side of the river at 85 feet above the waterline

• The town was named after the first settler Mateo Simeon Solana, a Minorcan from St. Augustine

• In 1880 San Mateo had 400 acres of citrus groves

• San Mateo's biggest proponent was Henry Flagler, who supposedly started the San Mateo Cigar Company and offered free lots in San Mateo to anyone who purchased 1,000 cigars*

* From “A Historic Tour Guide to Palatka and Putnam County Florida” written and compiled by Susan Clark

There were three hotels in San Mateo, and my trip to this now unincorporated area in Putnam County was to see the one known as Ferncourt. Ferncourt was built in 1889 by Massachusetts residents Henry B. Bailey and Larkin Trull. Bailey, who was involved with the Boston and Lowell Railroad, helped talk railroad magnate Henry Flagler into running the railroad spur into San Mateo. Bailey was a broker for citrus grown in the area and both shipping and packing of citrus occurred in close proximity to Ferncourt.

Ferncourt was the center of social activity in San Mateo with a large third floor ballroom, perfect for formal dances and spectacular parties, plus it had the area's only tennis courts. The elegant mansion even hosted President and Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt in 1905.

After World War II, Ferncourt was divided into several apartments and later became a retirement home. After more than a decade of sitting vacant the Victorian beauty was restored in 1989 by Mr. and Mrs. Jack Morgan. It was most recently a bed and breakfast, (see photos below), but it is currently for sale. Anyone out there wanting a 7 bedroom, 9 bathroom piece of Old Florida history should jump on this opportunity!

Much thanks to our Florida Road Trip guide Phil Eschbach and Amanda Baird Schmidt for their assistance in creating this post.

Salvaging the Sunshine State

 

The quality of life for Florida residents is at risk. Our state is not threatened by hungry sharks, killer hurricanes, or even giant snakes. Ignorance, apathy, and resignation of Floridians has contributed to our state's decline, and I’m calling on them to help make a difference in 2014.

In the early 1940s, Floridians numbered a mere 2 million. Florida's population is predicted to break 20 million by the end of 2015. The state averages 750 new residents every day.  The results of such rapid growth have been detrimental to the state’s historical and environmental resources.

Some of the states most valued historical resources were the creation of two Henrys. Henry Plant and Henry Flagler. In 19th century Florida, the only means of transportation in the interior of the state was by steamboat or horse. That changed when the two Henrys began expanding the railroad systems in the state and building enormous resort hotels like Hotel Ponce de Leon in St. Augustine, now Flagler College. Its builder, Henry Flagler, created an empire of resorts stretching from St. Augustine to Miami. One of his hotels was the Hotel Ormond in Ormond Beach, a grand Guilded age palace. It was razed in 1992 to make way for a condominium. All that remains today is a cupola in a park across the street.

The Hotel Ponce de Leon in St. Augustine, now Flagler College

The Ormond Hotel owned by Henry Flagler

The surviving cupola from the Ormond Hotel

The other Henry, Henry Plant, built railroads on Florida's Gulf coast.  His masterpiece, the former Tampa Bay Hotel, is now home to a museum and the University of Tampa.

Another of his most impressive surviving structures, the enormous Belleview Biltmore Hotel, is at risk of destruction. Its current owners have let it fall into a sad state of disrepair and have applied for a permit for demolition so they can build… wait for it… condominiums! To preservationists' dismay the buildings fate becomes more apparent with every rainfall.

 

Ironically in 1988, around the same time as the demolition of Henry Flagler’s Ormond Hotel, the Walt Disney Company built the Grand Floridian, an enormous resort inspired by the Victorian era beach resorts like the soon to be demolished Belleview Biltmore.

My question for Floridians is do we want to preserve our historic resources for future generations or create memorials to them after they’ve been demolished? I believe it is important to understand the places and people in our past. To do so gives us a foundation for making decisions about the future, and keen insight as to who we are as a society and individuals.

Other examples of disappearing historical resources are less grandiose. One of the last remaining fishing cabins from Lake Apopka is proudly displayed at the Oakland Nature Preserve near Winter Garden. In the early 20th century, Lake Apopka was one of the premier bass fishing destinations in the country, with dozens of fish camps along its shores. But pollution from agriculture destroyed the fish population and 100s of millions of dollars are being spent to restore the lake, which is the 3rd largest lake in the state.

From the State Archives of Florida

Lake Apopka

Similar efforts are underway to restore the damage we’ve done to the Everglades, at an even higher price tag. A recent editorial in the Orlando Sentinel questioned the logic of allowing environmental problems to grow unchallenged until they are intolerable and require billions of dollars to correct.

This summer the Indian River lagoon was site of a catastrophic loss of large numbers of dolphins, manatees, and pelicans. The cause, toxins caused by excessive nutrient pollution, is well known. Yet state lawmakers seem resigned to spending millions on studies and quick fixes while ignoring more difficult, long-term solutions.  The old wisdom that an ounce of protection is worth a pound of cure, does not seem to be of use in this state. There are those that argue that regulations to protect the environment are job killers. But it is well-documented that heritage and eco tourism in the state are multi billion-dollar industries, and these resources are non-renewable; once they’re gone, they cannnot be replaced.

It’s not just the wetlands that are disappearing: Florida loses 450 acres of forest and 410 acres of farmland to development every day. Our current rate of development in is unsustainable if we want to maintain our quality of life. What can be done to make sure Florida’s abundant treasures aren’t lost for future generation to learn from and enjoy?

Here are my suggestions:

Get lost. Go out and explore. Don’t take the Interstate, take the surface roads. 

Visit mom & pop business. Shop local. Eat at small diners and visit vintage roadside attractions. 

Dive in a spring, take a hike, go jump in a lake.  Spend more time enjoying nature.

Learn about it. Read historical markers and books about Florida.  

Stop and smell the roses at botanical gardens. Volunteer at your favorite museum, state park or local non-profit.

Speak up, take a stand, write a letter or an email. Only takes a few minutes.

Support the preservation of historic buildings. Frequent businesses that re-use old structures, like this restaurant in an old gas station. The buildings often have character and charm that is absent in newer construction.

But most importantly vote.

Vote like the future of the state depends on it. It does.

Personally, I will be voting in the next election for candidates that support a Florida with intact historical and cultural resources, undeveloped spaces for wildlife and recreation, and most importantly, clean water.