Tuesday, April 2, 2024

Award-winning design emerges from the ashes of Silver Springs fire

In December 1934, an advance group of four Seminole men began building a Seminole Village on a three-acre site, east of the swimming beach at Silver Springs. A group of 50 to 60 Seminole men, women, and children camped inside the park in an odd "living history" attraction near the same springs inhabited by Native Americans for hundreds of years (at least) prior. But this time they were on display for tourists visiting Silver Springs where they practiced traditional Seminole crafts and sold them as souvenirs.


The Seminole were apparently still living there early on the morning of June 15, 1955, when a young Seminole girl heard the sounds of a roaring fire and alerted Chief Robert Osceola. The Seminole leader then notified Oliver Allen of the Allen Reptile Institute, but by the time he reached the blaze the damage had been done. "Fire Guts Silver Springs" read the headline of the Orlando Evening Star, and the amount of destruction was estimated at a quarter of million dollars. "We are already making plans for a new building" Bill Ray, head of publicity for the attraction, was quoted as saying almost immediately. Then-owners of the park, W. Carl Ray Sr. and "Shorty" Davidson, quickly identified Sarasota architect Victory Lundy as the man to design the replacement buildings, and they quickly met and agreed on the scope of the project. 

The curved-building Lundy would design gracefully followed the contours of the famed spring basin where glass bottom boats floated above Mammoth Spring, the big reveal at the end of the magical ride over Florida's greatest natural wonder. The promenade fronted a 56,000 sq. ft. building with huge plate-glass windows, a staple of many mid century commercial buildings of what has come to be referred to as "Googie Architecture."  The flooring would be terrazzo, also standard for Florida mid-century architecture, but the entire structure would be air conditioned – then a novelty. 





A gushing newspaper review proclaimed that the new "sleeker structures" were constructed of "Sierra tan bricks" and featured the "abundant use of steel and glass." The new gift shop provided visitors with a "lovely tropical setting" and grounds surrounding the building have been "beautifully landscaped and provide great picture possibilities." The praise was well-deserved as Lundy's designs were recognized with accolades from Progressive Architecture magazine in 1956 and an award of merit by the AIA's national design competition in 1959. 

About the Architect

Victor Lundy from the Library of Congress

Lundy studied architecture at Harvard under the modernist legend and Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius.  He moved to Florida in 1951 and became part of what is now termed the Sarasota School of Architecture. On the occasion of his 100th birthday last year, world-architects.com posted this:

Lundy was trained in the Beaux Arts tradition at NYU (an education interrupted by WWII, where he earned a Purple Heart, a Victory Medal, and other honors) before venturing to Harvard GSD to learn by the Bauhaus method; such a traditional/modern education in architecture is, needless to say, a rarity. Following his Master of Architecture degree in 1948, a traveling scholarship, and years working for firms in New York City before licensure, he left for Florida and became a “member” of the so-called Sarasota School of Architecture. He designed houses, schools, and religious structures there in the 1950s before moving back to New York at the end of the decade, where he would work until the early 1980s, when he became a partner at HKS in Houston.

From the Library of Congress

from Wikimedia Commons

He created designs for many notable structures during his time in Florida – perhaps none as unforgettable as the breathtaking motel at Warm Mineral Springs.  Architect Magazine said this of the remarkable award-winning plan for the motor inn:

The U-shaped motel has a series of single-loaded rooms, entered from perimeter parking and overlooking a lushly planted courtyard. Above the rooms stand 14-foot-square, precast-concrete hyperbolic-paraboloid roofs that alter­nate in height. As originally constructed according to Lundy’s design, Plexiglas clerestories made the roofs appear to float, especially at night, with their undersides illuminated from within. “Designed to stop traffic,” Lundy said, the inverted roofs evoked the “fountain of youth” of the nearby warm mineral springs.

From Architect Magazine

From Life Magazine


Warm Mineral Springs Motel, 2011


The Lundy Center
Silver Springs has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I grew up in Gainesville and before Disney World opened, all of our out-of-town guests were treated to a visit to Silver Springs. After I became an adult and moved to Orlando, years would pass between visits, but I experienced the Park in its many phases. My Dad and I almost missed a Johnny Cash concert because we were on the glass bottom boat. My wife and I visited on my birthday when the Park was full of exotic animals and a revolving tower lifted you over the spring. And when I heard stories of how the springs were impaired, I rented a canoe and discovered for myself how poor the water quality had become.

Throughout these changes Victor Lundy's pavilion has endured. When the State purchased the property, ending the roadside attraction era, the building showed its age. I had mixed opinions on my first few visits to Silver Springs State Park – I love the ability to kayak around the headspring but there was a huge void where all the animals and attractions had once been. The gift shop seemed a bit sad and the food offerings were underwhelming.

I visited last month, however,  and was pleased with what I witnessed. The parking lot was full and people were lined up to drop off their kayaks, canoes, and paddle boards. Lundy's building, now called "Lundy Center," had a new restaurant with a diverse menu and fun bar.  I ordered a falafel pita pocket and it was made fresh and very tasty. On this spring day the basin was full of people, paddling and experiencing what was formerly Florida's best attended tourist attraction and is now a much used State Park. 

March 2024

The Lundy Center still has issues – the restrooms were being renovated and based on appearances, they really needed a makeover. Exhibits from Silver Springs's glory days were scattered around in poorly lit areas and could do with better curation. But I could see behind the large plate glass windows, one area of the Lundy Center was being used for a private event, probably a wedding reception. The building now has a whole new life as a venue and as more resources are committed to its restoration, the space should only get better. 

Photographer: Lyn Larson | MAHAL IMAGERY

Just past Lundy's sweeping pavilion an interpretive marker explains the significance of the building's architect and introduces Lundy to a whole new audience who may never have heard of the Sarasota School of Architecture. In an op-ed I recently penned for the Sarasota Herald-Tribune, I proposed that the buildings at Warm Mineral Springs, designed by Jack West, another member of the Sarasota School of Architecture, might receive the same treatment. Currently, those structures are in rough shape and demolition is being considered. But one needs only to look to Silver Springs to see the potential for restoration and renewal. 





Tuesday, December 26, 2023

Salt Springs – "A Magical Place Forever"?


My favorite memory of Salt Springs in the Ocala National Forest is when I camped there with my high school soccer coach and his son, who was my teammate. Coach Young was from Jamaica and he had a diving light and a spear gun (which I never got to use.😢) It was winter and the water felt comfortably warm compared to the thirty-some degree air temperatures. We swam in the spring at night and the dive light would catch streaking flashes of mullet – fleeting explosions of mercury through the water. It was creepy swimming through large swathes of eel grass to get to where the spring boils were – they were the only relief from the submerged underwater vegetation because they were surrounded by limestone. 

My Dad and I also fished Salt Run for bass using special floating plastic worms that we purchased from my favorite tackle store in Welaka. I had a tackle box full of these brightly colored lures that I only used a handful of times. I don't remember catching anything there but my I'm sure Dad did. He always did.

My excuse for checking in on the spring this year was avoiding holiday traffic on the interstate. Truth is I've been itching to go back to experience the spring as an adult. It's just under $13 for a day use pass to enter the Salt Springs Recreational Area. There are campgrounds and a short loop trail through a swamp in addition to the facilities at the spring head. On this overcast December day there was only one other car in the parking lot and only two other individuals at the spring. Beautiful live oaks surround the institutional-looking buildings that front the spring – one a store (closed), the other a bathhouse. The spring basin itself, which is quite large, is enclosed by a large manila-colored wall. 




Another reason for visiting was to take look at the manmade infrastructure there. One of my interests is how our culture treats manmade wonders like Salt Springs. I once did a talk called "Piped, Pooled, and Protected" on the topic. In my estimation the Park Service's "enhancements" such as the wall around the basin made undoubtedly function well by preventing erosion around the spring head, but they don't foster a feeling of connection to nature. 

As I remembered the spring was full of interesting aquatic life – schools of mullet, blue crab, what appeared to be Jacks(?), as well as the occasional bass and bream. New to the spring was the invasive armored catfish that seem to be the scourge of any spring I visit in Central Florida. I call them Plecos, short for Hypostomus plecostomus. 

There were also at least a half dozen manatees just outside the spring head near the start of the run, hovering near the bottom of the shallow water just beneath the surface of the water. I have been told that the numbers of wintering manatees at the springs along the St. Johns River is increasing due to the degregation of Indian River Lagoon. One obvious change is the lack of submerged aquatic growth– all that pesky eel grass I hated as a kid. There was no visible eel grass or any plant life beneath the surface. I wondered what the manatees found there for substance.

I didn't bring my swimming gear so I was envious of the one lone snorkeler who floated among the manatees all by himself. The water felt warm, like it did when I was a kid, and I was filled with remorse for not schlepping my swim trunks, mask, and fins. 

If I remember my research correctly, early owners of the spring, including the Townsend family who owned Orange Spring, saw the potential of the unique saline characteristics of the springs there, but no one developed a spa on the property to my knowledge. In the 1970s the campground facilities between the spring and Lake Kerr were developed by one of the owners of Silver Springs. An interesting community still exists outside the Park Service's recreational area and it appears to be mostly retirees living the good life in Florida.

This 1925 article from a Miami newspaper suggests that Salt Springs did in fact have perceived "curative" properties and developers Glenn Curtiss and James Bright were considering building a spa there. The two would eventually sell their Miami Springs Hotel to John Harvey Kellogg as the Florida site for his Battle Creek Sanitarium.

I have often claimed that every spring in Florida that was developed commercially in Florida would at some point be touted as the Fountain of Youth. The claim is made in this 1970 article when it was owned by the Ray family who also owned Silver Springs.  

Vintage postcard of Salt Springs from an internet auction site

My favorite historical image of Salt Springs is author Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings standing in a row boat with a blue crab dangling in the air at the end of a stick. Whether this was a posed publicity photo or just a moment of Old Florida loving captured on film, I'll never know. The photo captures what Rawlings' life in the area seemed to have been like or at least my perception of that ideal.


I loved to write "compare and contrast" papers in school, I think it appeals to the analytical side of my brain I seemed to have inherited from my father. In comparing the Salt Springs of my childhood memories with the spring of the present day, there were some elements of consistency that were reassuring and nostalgic. It was an unexpected thrill to see the colony of manatees. But it was disappointing to see the lack of submerged aquatic vegetation that placed me as a kid. There is limited interpretation of the history and environment of the spring, just handful of panels in the breezeway of the bathhouse. The panels are well done, but very dated.  One panel dubs the spring a "Magical Place Forever." The lack of imagination in the built environment around around the spring, however, is anything but magical today. It's park-like setting doesn't enhance the natural features but rather simply contain them. I've often said that all Florida's springs are magical places and that is certainly true at Salt Springs. But we could do a better job of allowing that magic really shine with better curation of this marvelous place. 


Archival photo from the State Archives of Florida

Archival photo from the State Archives of Florida


Apparently no martini drinking allowed at Salt Springs

Is that a Jack swimming in the spring boil?

Design looks to be done in the 1980s based on the typography.

Lovely illustration of one of the spring's early inhabitants.

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Datson Dairy: From Family Farm to Beloved Brand

Note: The following article originally appeared in the magazine for Pine Castle Pioneer Days in Orange County, FL in 2022.


When my wife and I moved into our nearly century-old bungalow on Lake Hourglass in 2004, I became interested in learning more about the history of the area. I was thrilled to find a vestige of the past in the form of a milk-bottle cap stuck in the corner of our attic, under the floorboards. The bottle cap featured a green cloverleaf design and text that read “Grade A Pasteurized Milk – Datson Dairies Orlando.” It was the first I’d heard of what I would come to learn was one of Central Florida’s oldest and largest commercial dairies. Little did I know that the cows from the dairy once grazed in pastures nearby; a century ago I might have been able to stand in my backyard and hear milk cows mooing!



The Datson Family Comes to Orange County

Burton Clarence Datson, or “B.C.,” moved his large family to Orlando from Las Tunas, Cuba, where the Datsons raised cattle between 1904 and 1915. B.C. was born in 1874 in Ohio, where he married his wife, Alice, who gave birth to seven children. After the family arrived in Central Florida in 1915, he established B.C. Datson & Sons Cloverleaf Dairy. At the time, B.C. had almost more children than cows – four sons and three daughters vs. nine cows, according to one report. In another account, the dairy’s original herd contained thirteen cows, purchased from Captain Brannon’s dairy on Lake Lucerne. 

The Datsons came here at a time when the dairy industry was evolving rapidly. The first milk cow in Orange County was also from Ohio, shipped by rail in 1884 to Amanda Ford. Orange County’s earliest dairies were small family-run operations where residents sold surplus milk to their neighbors. The age of the commercial dairy began in 1915 when C. Fred Ward installed coolers at his Lakemont Dairy in Winter Park to prevent spoilage. Three generations of Wards would continue to operate the dairy where the Winter Park Pines development is today. 

B.C. Datson would find similar success as a Florida dairy farmer, building what would become one of the City Beautiful’s most popular brands with the help of his four sons and a son-in-law. Their fledgling dairy prospered, and by the mid-1920s the Orlando Sentinel dubbed B.C. the “Milk King” of Central Florida.


B.C.’s Big Vision

B.C. grew his business by purchasing parcels of land around Central Florida and absorbing other small dairies. In December 1916, the Sentinel Star reported that a “B.D. Datson from Havana” had purchased a 1,000-acre ranch in Osceola County to create a “stock farm.” In  1918, he purchased the routes of the family-owned Shader Dairy in Fairvilla. (The Shader family dairy would continue to operate until 1949.) Around this time, B.C. also acquired 40 cows from the Hawkeye Dairy owned by Iowan R.T. Carris, as well as the property for which the Datsons would become best known – between Lake Hourglass and Bumby Avenue, south of Curry Ford Road (then called Conway Road). 

At that time the Datson pasture, near the Dolive grove, was about two miles outside Orlando’s city limits. The Datsons also partnered with Carris on a commercial venture downtown – the Clover Leaf Milk Depot. Located in the Elks Club across from the post office on Central Boulevard, the Depot sold an assortment of dairy products from buttermilk to cottage cheese. By 1920, the business offered lunch as well as homemade pie and doughnuts. That same year, Carris bowed out of the Depot’s operation to focus on running the nearby Orange Cafeteria. His place at the Depot was taken by Robert Dawson, who was married to B.C.’s daughter Nell. Incidentally, Dawson was also from Ohio, but he had met the Datsons in Cuba, where his family was also in the cattle business. 

 


Pioneers in Pasteurization

Because of public concern about illnesses linked to bacteria in milk, government agencies began to give milk and dairies greater scrutiny in the United States during the early twentieth century. Due to the costs of the equipment need to pasteurize milk, many smaller dairies were unable to compete. According to a recollection shared by Pine Castle’s Ruth Linton, in 1921 the Datson dairy became the first in Central Florida to pasteurize milk, and many customers initially didn’t like the refrigerated milk it delivered because they were so used to “warm milk fresh from the cow.” 

Datson advertisements promoted pasteurized milk that was “safe, pure and wholesome,” untouched by human hands and produced by “well-fed contented cows” using the latest scientific process to “remove all germs.” The dairy was also the first in Central Florida to deliver milk by motorized vehicle and later was the first company in Florida to serve milk in single-service paper cartons. Embracing innovation was always part of the Datsons’ success.  



Orlando Booms and Business Blossoms

In the early teens and twenties, Orlando was growing rapidly, evolving from an agricultural community to one of inland Florida’s most progressive cities. A road-building spree helped to make the area accessible to tourists and new residents arriving by automobile. The first bricked street outside of Orlando was Conway Road near the Datson pasture. All around Orlando, subdivisions were being developed at a rapid rate to accommodate the growth. 

As the city swelled, B.C. Datson got involved in buying and selling real estate. He purchased property north of Conway Road from J.C. Hull in 1921 and platted it for a development called Conway Terrace. Hull’s father, William, was a pioneer in the early citrus industry and once owned 640 acres from Lake Lancaster to Crystal Lake Drive. 

In 1922 a company called the Tourist Home Realty Co. advertised lots for sale on the “beautiful Conway brick drive” that were formerly part of the Datson dairy farm. “The march of time brought the dairy closer to the doors of the towns-people,” according to a June 1924 Tampa Tribune article, and the growth of Orlando forced the Datsons to seek a new location “four or five miles away in the Conway section,” where they had purchased 1,000 acres. 

In May 1926, B.C. Datson announced that construction on a new $200,000 dairy plant, capable of processing 8,000 bottles of a milk a day, would soon begin at a location near the dairy’s production facilities on South Street. The Datsons had moved their milk-bottling operation to the South Street location in 1923, assuming the building formerly occupied by Cohoon Bros. Machine Shop & Cannery. 

 


Rebuilding After Tragedy 

A month after the Sentinel ran the story about the plans for the new dairy plant, the paper ran a front-page headline in all-capital letters: “B.C. DATSON IS KILLED IN AUTO ACCIDENT.” B.C. was returning from Ocala when his car overturned on a rain-slickened Winter Garden Road west of town. A column printed in the paper on June 8, 1926, three days after BC’s passing, called the dairyman an “able friend, builder, and earnest citizen” whose vision in “the bright future, faith in his city and country and state” contributed to the “upbuilding of this central empire.”




After B.C.’s death, his four sons built upon the dairy’s success, strengthening the strong reputation they had created within the community. The oldest son, Clarence, took over leadership of the dairy, and a year after B.C.’s death the Sentinel reported that 610 cows in Orange County produced 1,200 bottles of milk delivered daily by Datson trucks. Clarence’s younger brother Theodore was the dairy’s vice president and general manager. Glenn would manage the family’s farms, and youngest brother Richard supervised maintenance at the plant. Brother-in-law Robert Dawson acted as treasurer and secretary. 


B.C. Datson's grave in Orlando's Greenwood Cemetery

From the Pine Castle Pioneer Days program


Growth and Innovation

In 1926, the Datsons incorporated as Datson Dairies, Inc., and as the business continued to grow, they often purchased milk from smaller local dairies. June Smith Sunday recalled driving a car when she was only 14 to deliver milk to Datson Dairies from her family’s dairy on Winegard Road. In order to squeeze the 10-gallon milk cans into the car’s trunk, the lid of the trunk had to be taken off.  

The Datsons continued to adopt new technologies, remodeling their South Street plant in 1937 by adding a four-step sterilization process for milk bottles and a new pasteurizer to improve milk quality. Ads boasted of a new system for sealing milk bottles – the Dacro Metal Disc Cap was promoted as a means to keep germs out. It was a Dacro bottle cap that I found in my attic. 

Innovation extended to the farm as well. In 1950, a Sentinel profile of Glenn Datson shared that he had his own herd of cattle on 2,000 acres of land east of the Pinecastle Air Base. On this land, Glenn experimented with growing alternatives to grain for feeding the cattle, including torpedo grass and white Dutch clover. The article quoted him as saying, “Feed a cow the way God intended it to be fed and you will have few sick cows” and concluded that he was proving that Florida dairy farmers could get more from their cows on feed produced in their own pastures. 


 

“Big Oaks from Little Acorns”

In 1935 Datson Dairies had seven trucks delivering milk to Orlando residents. By 1950 their products reached 31 cities in six counties. On August 16, 1951, however, the Sentinel announced that Datson Dairies had been acquired by the Borden Company. Theodore Datson was to remain in charge of day-to-day operations, and the new company was to be called Borden’s Datson Dairies. The Sentinel noted that the Datsons had sold their distribution network while retaining their pastures and herds. Clarence had hundreds of acres of improved acres in the Pine Castle area; Glenn had one of the county’s premier grazing spots east of the Pinecastle Air Base; and Theodore had land east of Glenn’s.

Part of the story of the Datsons’ success was their involvement within the dairy industry and local community. Theodore was involved in leadership of the Florida Diary Association and the Milk Industry Foundation on the national level. Clarence Datson served as chairman of Orange County’s Production and Marketing Administration Committee. Glenn Datson held directorships in the Florida Dairy Association, the Orange County Soil Conservation District, and the Federal Farm and Home Administration.

After the sale to Borden, Glenn was frequently singled out in the Sentinel’s agriculture section – in 1952 he built a “calf hotel”; his clover pastures were highlighted in 1953; his forage harvester was spotlighted in 1957; and he was the first dairy farmer in Orange County to use seepage irrigation on his pastures. 

Clarence and his wife, Ruby, were both active in the Pine Castle community; he was a leader in the Methodist Church, and she was a leader in the Pine Castle Woman’s Club. They both supported the Pine Castle Center for the Arts.



 

The Datson Legacy

Today the best-known local dairy is T.G. Lee, and the area surrounding its Robinson Street building has been dubbed the Milk District. But B.C. Datson started a decade prior to T.G. Lee, and Datson Dairies was once just as well known in the area. The family house built on Lake Hourglass in 1926, where the dairy once stood, is still owned by Datsons, and Glenn Datson’s son Charlie continues the family legacy in the cattle business. 

Down the street from the 1926 house on a parcel of land the Datsons donated to Orange County, Hourglass Park is anchored by a large cypress tree, a reminder of the days when cattle roamed the shores of the lake. Near the opposite side of the lake, customers line up at Kelly’s Homemade Ice Cream on South Fern Creek Avenue, completely oblivious to the area’s dairy history. The Pine Castle Little League plays on Datson Field just off Oak Ridge Road – another Datson donation to the County. But aside from a historical marker on Conway Road, the story of Datson Dairies today is relatively obscure – I only learned of it because of the discovery in my attic. As the population of Central Florida increased, dairy pastures and citrus groves were replaced by houses. The foundation of our community, however, is agriculture, and the legacy established by the region’s farmers and ranchers should not be forgotten. 

Past posts about Datson Dairy: 

• The Dairy around the corner (2012)

• Bring to piece it all together (2009)




 

Tuesday, July 4, 2023

Freedom Walk 2023


This year, I resumed my annual Fourth of July photo safari that I nicknamed the Freedom Ride. I elected to do the "Ride" on foot, as the last time I rode my bike I ended up with a hurt back and made many visits to the Osteopath. Since my wife gave me her Apple Watch, my walks have been about going as fast as I can, in the time I have allocated for exercise. So today's walk was break from my usual breakneck speed. Today I worked on being present and taking time to notice that which I usually speed by. 

My first stop was Constitution Green in Downtown Orlando. I've been here before on the Ride, but the park is much improved. The park is centered around a massive live oak, listed on the City of Orlando Significant Tree Map as being (perhaps) close to 200 years old. The land was almost sold to developers, but thanks to the efforts of local hero Eric Rollins it is now a park. For me it is a reminder of the freedoms guaranteed in the Constitution that we may take for granted. Read more here






My next stop was the sculpture garden next to the Orange County Administrative Building, another place I normally drive by and rarely stop to visit. The 2023 "Sculpture on the Lawn" exhibit includes a couple pieces I really like, and it was worth the two mile trek to get there. There is also a small native plant garden tucked the corner, so if you visit, make sure to check it out!  






I strolled next to Orlando's City Hall, a place that has a vast art collection. It was closed on the Fourth of July so I paused only long enough to get a quick pic of this piece of public art in the small park in front of the building. Sadly the water looks very green like most natural water bodies in the state these days. 




Walking underneath the 408, I captured an image of the Victorian-style Dr. Phillips House and the Art Deco (or Art Moderne) Wellborn Apartments in the Lake Cherokee Historic District. I was headed towards Orlando's premier collection of Craftsman style buildings, Hovey Court. 




The nine well-preserved bungalows were built in the nineteen-teens as guest cottages on Orlando's Lake Lucerne, home of the infamous Billy the Swan. It's one the few places in town where rocks from Florida are incorporated into the architecture. I love the Craftsman style and these rocks remind me of the great examples of Parkitecture I've seen in State and National Parks.





I then made a quick stop at a small creek at Al Coith Park in the Delaney Park neighborhood to visit my favorite Lotus plants. Although they weren't in bloom, their leaves are gorgeous even before they unfurl. 



On my return I snapped a selfie with my Firecracker bush, perhaps the most consistent blooming plant in my landscape at home. 


At a time when even the word "Freedom" means different things depending on your political perspective, I chose today to celebrate my independence by attempting to be mindful and aware of the everyday beauty that surrounds me. As the elders in my life age before me, I am increasingly aware of the freedom I still possess and the choices I still have available to me. I am grateful for the freedoms that are mine and the blessings that I tend to take for granted. 

Happy Independence Day!