estero-island-historic-society

Pirates and Plundering on Estero Island

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 02:19:57 GMT

Although the story of Anne Bonny and Calico Jack honeymooning on Estero Island may be less fact than fiction, it is a refreshing part of the history of Estero Island. According to Jack Beater’s book, Pirates and Buried Treasure on Florida Islands, Anne Bonny was the daughter of a wealthy lawyer who lived in North Carolina.

After she shunned all the suitors her father had arranged for her to marry, she hooked up with Jack Rackam, a dashing pirate known as “Calico Jack.” When her father learned of this, he disowned her. Instead of giving up Jack, Anne cut her hair, donned pirate clothing, and joined Jack aboard his ship. Unfortunately, their honeymoon cruise did not turn out as planned. First, they attacked a Spanish ship and damaged their mast in the ensuing fight. Before they could even access the damage, a storm struck and drove them into the Gulf.

Johnson’s “History of Highwaymen and Pyrates” states that the couple landed on an island where they met a Roman Catholic priest named Father Amadeo who was in the area trying to convert the Indians to Christianity. Johnson wrote, “The island where they did visit to do away with the damage of shot and storm was called Estero, and up a small river of the same name.”

So it would seem that Captain Rackam and his bride were probably the first white couple to honeymoon on Fort Myers Beach.Another pirate story that has been circulating around Fort Myers Beach involves a treasure buried on Black Island. Black Augustus was a Portuguese private who worked with Jose Gaspar (Gasparilla). Black Augustus was not a model citizen: he was a pillager, a torturer, and a fugitive.

Legend has it that in 1821, Gasparilla’s camp was attacked by American forces. Augustus managed to escape with his gold, sailed south to Black Island, and lived there until his death in the 1870s. For almost 50 years, Augustus was pretty much a recluse, only seen by a few local fishermen who traded food and other supplies with him.

One of these fishermen was John Butterfield who lived on Mound Key at the time. Butterfield was one of the people who had traded with Augustus for a least a decade. Eventually, Augustus took ill and died. Jack Beater recalls a conversation he had with Mrs. Butterfield who told the story of how, at his deathbed, Augustus told the Butterfield’s to dig in the corner of his shack. After his death, they dug in the spot he had shown then and found a ball of gold the size of a grapefruit.

John decided to take their find to Adolph Hixon who ran a general store in Fort Myers. Hixon told John he would send the gold to Tampa to get it appraised. He gave John ten dollars and a bottle of whiskey and told him to wait ten days until they heard back from Tampa. John ended up drunk the entire time, and when he came to his senses, Hixon told him their find was not gold. He gave John another ten dollars and more whiskey and John returned to Mound Key.

Mrs. Butterfield reported to Beater that right after John returned, Hixon suddenly had all kinds of money. He built a new store, a new house, sent his daughter to college, and bought his wife an organ. However, Butterfield said that she was not too upset when she learned that she had been swindled. As the story goes, Hixon’s ill got gain was cursed. Hixon’s wife drowned, his daughter was stabbed to death, his store burned down, and he died when his house also caught fire. And the moral of this story is…

Early Settlers on Estero Island

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 02:15:52 GMT

For many years, Estero Island was home to Calusa Indians, Cuban Fishermen, Spanish Missionaries, and some say, pirates. It was not until the mid-1870s that the first family settled on Fort Myers Beach.

Sam Ellis, his wife, and his son, George Underhill, settled at the end of Connecticut Street where the Mound House now sits. Although Ellis and his family ended up moving to Sanibel where they homesteaded a track of land near Tarpon Bay, George’s son (also named George) returned to Fort Myers Beach where he raised his family.

The Homestead At of 1862 brought new settlers to the island. Intrigued by the idea of getting free land, the settlers came from all over the United States and Europe hoping to prove their claim by living on the land for five years, clearing it, farming it, and improving it.

When the first settlers came to Estero Island in the mid-1850s much of the island was a mangrove jungle filled with dense foliage.

Unfortunately, life on the island in those days was difficult, and many of these early settlers did not stay long enough to claim their land. Frank Johnson, however, managed to receive a patent including all of Mound Key issued in 1891. Three years later, Robert Gilbert received a patent on 171 acres starting near Bay Street and going to Bayland Ave. This area was located in the central part of the island and included the shell mound at the end of Connecticut where the Mound House now sits.

The second patent on the island was granted to James Bratt in 1895. Prior to 1895, the area presently known as Bowditch Point was called the government lighthouse reservation. Bratt was a doctor from New York who was one of the few settlers who decided to set up his homestead at the south end of the island where he attempted to farm 150 acres at Bowditch Point.

Robert Gilbert filed his claim in 1898 and built his home at the end of Connecticut Street. Today, the Mound House is the oldest remaining structure on the island known today. Gilbert built the original home as a Tudor home with dock and cistern in 1906, and it was known as the “Mound Villa”. In 1909, the home was known as the “Bungalow by the Banyan” when the brick structure was added.

Bratt wanted to grow tomatoes on his land, and he had a successful first harvest. However, in mid-February 1895, a cold wave blew into south Florida with temperatures of 38 degrees recorded, damaging much of Bratt’s tomato crop. Bratt did not give up and continued to farm until 1899 when another deep freeze hit the area, killing all Bratt’s crop of tomatoes. After this loss, Bratt gave up on farming and focused on placing a lighthouse at the tip of Bowditch Point. Unfortunately, Bratt died in 1899 before he could get permission from the government to construct the lighthouse. His 150 acres was then granted to Ambrose McGregor.

Hugh McPhie homesteaded 112 acres running from Flamingo Street to Fairview Isles in 1899. McPhie’s old homestead was built in a coconut grove just south of what is now the Outrigger Hotel. The house was destroyed by a storm in 1947.

Six years went by before George McAuley received a patent on 72 acres which began near Tropical Shores and ran to Donora Street. The next year, 1907, McPhie created McPhie Park which ran from Aberdeen Street to Avenida Pescadora and to the end of Seminole Way.

In 1914, Albert Austin homesteaded a triangular piece of land starting at Aberdeen Street and going north to Williams Drive. This was a little over 24 acres.

The Koreshans played a major role in the history of Estero Island. Leroy Lemoreaux was a member of the Koreshan Unity when he left Estero and homesteaded property on the island.

The last of the homesteaders was Leroy Lemoreaux who was a member of the Koreshan Unity. He came to Estero when he was fourteen years old in 1894. In 1918 Lemoreaux homesteaded 65 acres between the two tracks owned by McPhie. This is the property where the Church of the Ascension is now located. Lemoreaux sold the property to the church.

In A Short History of Fort Myers Beach, Barrett and Adelaide Brown report that during the boom of the 1920s, McPhie was offered half a million dollars for his property. He turned down the offer; however, eventually he subdivided his property into McPhie Park and sold about forty lots in the park, earning about $40,000.

Early Development on Fort Myers Beach

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 02:09:28 GMT

Opened in 1912, the Winkler Hotel was the first hotel on the island.

The early part of the 20 ^th century brought more development as the first subdivisions were platted on Fort Myers Beach. H.C. Case platted the first of these subdivisions in 1911. Originally this was part of the Robert Gilbert homestead. Starting at Connecticut Street, the subdivision extended about three quarters of a mile both north and south.

At this time, Estero Boulevard was called Eucalyptus Avenue. This was a north-south shell road that ended at Connecticut. If you wanted to travel farther south, you would need to continue your journey on the beach.

Another five years passed before T.P. Hill subdivided a large tract started at Crescent Street and ending just south of Gulf Drive. The lots that were on the beach side of Estero were normal sized lots. However, the lots on the other side of the road were approximately 9-10 acres running from the street to the bay.

Land on the island in the 1900s was filled with brush and palmettos that were so thick no engineer would agree to complete an accurate survey because wading through the mangroves to accurately measure an acre of “cheap land” did not seem like a good idea.

Three years later, Seagrape Subdivision was put on the market. These lots were located on Mango and Avocado streets in 1919 (Avocado Street was renamed Chapel Street in 1952).

At this time, Crescent Beach (as it was called at that time) was becoming a popular destination for people living in town. In 1912 the Winkler Hotel was opened at the end of Pompano Street. At this time, the island was only accessible by boat. The guests would arrive by schooner and would dock at a pier on the gulf side in front of the hotel.

The Seminole Sands Casino was a popular destination on Fort Myers Beach.

In 1919, Captain Jack DeLysle arrived in Fort Myers and saw the potential in making Estero Island a tourist hot spot. DeLysle opened the Seminole Sands Casino and dance pavilion on the beach at Connecticut Street. The land boom of the 1920s had begun (stay tuned for more information on how this affected our island).

Haunted Restaurants on FMB?

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 01:39:24 GMT

Yesterday I was surfing the Internet, and I came across an article about haunted restaurants. This article mentioned the Whale (formerly the Beached Whale and before that the Mermaid Club) as being haunted by the ghosts of Jim and Mary Galloway (I covered their murder in an earlier posting). Suddenly, I remembered reading about another haunted restaurant on the island: the Holmes House. This led me down a rabbit hole as I got caught up in trying to learn more about the ghost that was supposed to be the daughter of the restaurant owner who had died (I can’t remember how she was supposed to have died). Unfortunately, I came up empty on the ghost story, but I did learn some interesting facts about this lost icon of Fort Myers Beach.

The Holmes House was located at the corner of Estero and Chapel Street directly across from Chapel By The Sea. According to an article in the New York Times, the original building for this restaurant was a five-room beach cottage built in 1919 and used as a retreat for nuns in the Tampa Diocese. Apparently, from 1919 until 1951 several additions were made to the house but not much else is known until the property was purchased by Dick and Fran Holmes. This is how the restaurant came to be called the “Holmes House.” The restaurant was run by the Holmes family until it was sold in 1974 to Donna and Dave Miller.

My family moved to the island in 1953 and developed an odd relationship with the owners of the Holmes House. They had a dog named Cobina who would take walks on the beach and end up in front of Red Coconut. The trailer park did not allow dogs in the 1950s, so it did not take long for me to “adopt” Cobina when she made her daily trek down the beach. We spent hours playing in the gulf, and I made sure she got treats so she would continue to return each afternoon.

Then one day my dad sat me down and told me that Cobina belonged to the owners of the Holmes House, and they did not want her to be coming over to visit anymore because they were getting ready to go back north for the summer and would be taking her with them.

The restaurant was only open during the season. Apparently, the Holmes Family owned another restaurant somewhere around Cape Cod that they ran during the summer months. They had their own workers who came with them to help run the restaurants.

When I was older, we would go there for special occasions, and I do remember the wait staff was made up of African American men who wore white suits and gloves.

I never found out what happened to Cobina, but she never returned to play with me on the beach.

The Holmes House attracted many celebrities over its over twenty years in business. An article in the News-Press lists Perry Como, Hugh Downs, Myrna Loy and Theodore White as patrons of the exclusive restaurant.

Flash forward to the summer of 1974 when Donna and Dave Miller purchased the premises. They began to remodel the building adding a Groggery, Boston Tea Room, and a Rusty Scupper Room. The restaurant could accommodate two hundred people in one seating after the additions were completed.

In addition to changing the looks of the restaurant, the Millers changed the name to “Ye Olde Holmes House.” They created an eight-page menu including gourmet cuisine like Crab Meat Monaco, chateaubriand, pheasant, and Baked Alaska.

The New York Times article revealed that Dave Miller was a graduate of Boston College’s Carroll School of Management. He was only 22 years old when he opened his first restaurant on Fort Myers Beach. The Times describes Ye Old Holmes House as a “polish-casual concept that was designated as one of the top ten restaurants in Florida.” The restaurant was also rated among the top 100 restaurants by Florida Trend Magazine for four straight years according to the News-Press.

In 1985, the Mucky Duck on Captiva suffered the worst beach erosion in its history. This prompted some of the partners to look for another restaurant to purchase to ensure that the Mucky Duck name would carry on even if the Captiva restaurant were to be destroyed in a storm. The partners purchased the old Holmes House which had been a Smitty’s Steakhouse after the Millers sold the building. The Fort Myers Beach Mucky Duck closed in 2002 and the building was torn down in 2005. The property is still vacant today. The original Mucky Duck on Captiva has continued to survive thanks to beach nourishments conducted over the years. Although it was damaged in Ian, the popular restaurant has been restored and is now open again.

Fort Myers Beach Fire Department Has A Long Successful History

Sat, 11 Nov 2023 02:05:47 GMT

I have been reading recently about the plan to merge the FMB Fire Department with Bonita. I am by no means an expert on how or if this would be a money saving move, but I do know that the FMB Fire Department has been the pride of our island since 1949 when the Beach Volunteer Fire Department was born at “Jenk’s Bar” on San Carlos Island. Twenty-two men attended the banquet meeting. Earl Howie was the first Fire Chief, and J. Travis Cowart was elected Fire Captain. This was the beginning. Prior to this time, there was no established fire department on the island, and the closest fire apparatus was 20 miles away in Fort Myers. The information in this article comes from a small booklet written by former Chief John McCarthy called simply “The History of the Fort Myers Beach Fire Department.”

After raising funds from the island residents, the new department purchased a small two-wheeled spray pump, tank, and trailer that was pulled by a borrowed jeep (McCarthy). These were housed at Red Coconut. Residents could call the department by dialing 2541, a precursor to 911. In April 1950, an old international war-surplus fire/rescue crash truck was purchased. This was a step up from the original truck and was the first real fire apparatus that the department owned. It lasted until May 1964 when it was sold to Leigh Acres Volunteer Fire Department.

On July 10, 1950, the Fire Department was incorporated as the Fort Myers Beach Fire Control District, Inc, a non-profit organization with Earl Howie as president and Travis Cowart as vice president. One year later, the Fort Myers Beach Fire Control District was established as a special taxing district. For this to take effect, the residents of the island needed to ratify the proposal and elect fire commissioners. On June 5, 1951, the ratification election was held, and the district was approved.

On December 15, 1951, the first organizational meeting of the Fire Board was held. The Commission approved yearly salaries of $1,440.00 for Chief Howie and $1,200 to his second in command. At the time, the Beach Fire Department was only the second department in Lee County to pay their personnel. Just after Christmas in 1951, Don and Ora Zimmer donated land on Estero for a fire station. They only had one stipulation: “That the described property be maintained as a main and operating fire and engine house,” or the land would revert to the Zimmers or their heirs.

1960 was an historic year for the fire department according to McCarthy: they got a new, modern fire truck, Motorola radios were installed in the trucks, and the district obtained a radio license and call numbers. In 1960, the population of the island was reaching 2, 500 residents. The nearest hospital was in Fort Myers with ambulance service being provided by one of the funeral homes in town . It could take up to thirty minutes for an ambulance to arrive on the scene of the emergency. In response to this problem, community leaders formed the Fort Myers Beach Rescue Unit which was separate from the FMB Fire Department. The funeral home donated an old step van bakery truck to be used as an ambulance. The plan was for the new FMB Rescue Unit to transport the patients to Miner’s corner where they would meet the funeral home ambulance that would take them to the hospital.

Later, the FMB Rescue Unit merged with the FMB Fire Department to become the Fort Myers Beach Fire Control District. The rescue unit was established as an official division of the fire department. In December 1966, the commissioners approved a motion to construct a two-story addition to the fire station. In 1969, the funeral home decided they no longer wanted to provide service to the island. This really was not a big deal for the department since they had already received a license to operate an ambulance service. They purchased a new rescue vehicle for $2,515.

The department continued to expand into the 70s. This was the time of massive development with many of the new condos reaching heights not before experienced on the island. The department needed a truck that could deal with potential fires in the high-rise units that were being built. They had a 50-foot truck built with “telescoping water” for $60,235. This was the second ariel truck in Southwest Florida at the time and was called upon throughout the county when needed.

In 1977, the department decided they needed a station on San Carlos Island. The new substation was in operation from 1978 to late 1979 when it was closed, and all equipment moved back to the Donora station. This was the only station in the district until a new station #2 was built at the northern end of San Carlos Blvd.

In 1981, the district was authorized to operate an advanced life support ambulance. Legislation passed this year also provided that the local fire board would set the millage rate rather than Lee County. In the 1990s, the department expanded its services to include water rescue. The Beach Fire Service was one of the first in the United States to operate an advanced life support fire vessel.

After reading this little booklet, I concluded that our Fort Myers Beach Fire Control District should remain as it has been since its inception: an independent organization dedicated to serving the needs of island residents. As a lifetime resident of the island, I would gladly pay a few dollars more in taxes to keep the Fire Department independent. As an independent organization, the FMB Fire Control District has been a leader, not only in Southwest Florda, but also in the nation. I feel certain they will continue to provide the quality service we have always expected, and they deserve our support as an independent organization.

Sustaining Island Ecosystems: Matanzas Pass Preserve's Vital Role

Thu, 10 Aug 2023 02:33:57 GMT

Sustaining Island Ecosystems: Matanzas Pass Preserve's Vital Role

Nestled on serene Estero Island, this hidden gem plays a crucial role in preserving the rich biodiversity and natural harmony that define this unique coastal habitat. In this blog post, we delve into the significance of Matanzas Pass Preserve in sustaining island ecosystems and fostering a harmonious coexistence between nature and humanity.

A Natural Haven Amidst Urban Splendor

Amidst the hustle and bustle of Estero Island's urban landscape, Matanzas Pass Preserve stands as a soothing sanctuary – a verdant haven that offers respite from the concrete jungles and clamor of city life. Within its sprawling 60 acres, this preserve remains an oasis of natural wonder, providing a stark contrast to the bustling streets nearby. Here, where lush mangrove forests intertwine with vibrant salt marshes and meandering waterways, a captivating tapestry of biodiversity unfurls.

The preserve's significance in preserving this dynamic ecosystem cannot be emphasized enough. As towering skyscrapers cast shadows and the rhythm of daily life quickens, Matanzas Pass Preserve stands as a poignant reminder of the fragile balance that sustains the island's natural beauty. It is a vital thread in the fabric of Estero Island, weaving together the island's past, present, and future in a harmonious symphony of nature.

Nurturing Biodiversity and Wildlife

Within the protective embrace of Matanzas Pass Preserve, a mesmerizing web of life thrives in all its intricate glory. The preserve serves as a nurturing ground for an array of species, each playing a unique role in the tapestry of the island's ecosystems. From the elegant grace of native birds like herons and egrets to the enigmatic charm of elusive river otters, this sanctuary offers a safe haven for creatures great and small.

Among its many wonders, the mangroves that line the preserve's waterways hold a special significance. These remarkable plants serve as vital nurseries for marine life, cradling the early stages of fish growth. Their roots offer shelter to juvenile fish, while the intricate network of branches provides sustenance and protection. Amidst the mangrove embrace, juvenile fish find refuge, fostering the delicate balance that sustains the ocean's vibrant biodiversity.

A Glimpse into History and Culture

Matanzas Pass Preserve is not only a repository of ecological significance but also a bridge to the island's rich history and cultural heritage. Within its boundaries lies the historic Fort Myers Beach Mound, a silent sentinel that bears witness to the ancient Calusa Native Americans who once thrived on this land. Exploring the preserve offers an opportunity to connect with the island's cultural roots, fostering a deep sense of belonging and a bridge between the past and the present.

Tracing the footsteps of those who came before, visitors can glimpse into a time when the island was shaped by the traditions, stories, and daily lives of indigenous communities. The preserve becomes a canvas upon which the layers of history are painted, showcasing the intricate interplay between human heritage and the natural world. In every rustling leaf and gently lapping wave, echoes of a vibrant history resonate, inviting all who visit to become a part of an ongoing narrative.

Protecting Fragile Ecosystems

In a world where human activity poses unprecedented threats to delicate ecosystems, Matanzas Pass Preserve shines as a beacon of conservation and environmental stewardship. The preserve's role becomes even more crucial as habitats like mangroves and salt marshes face growing vulnerability to disruption. Rising sea levels, pollution, and habitat loss are just a few of the challenges that these ecosystems endure.

By safeguarding these habitats, Matanzas Pass Preserve not only ensures the continued existence of these natural wonders but also bolsters the island's resilience in the face of environmental adversity. The preserve becomes a stronghold against the tide of change, advocating for the intrinsic value of nature and fostering an appreciation for the interconnectedness of all life forms.

Environmental Education and Outreach

Matanzas Pass Preserve transcends its role as a mere sanctuary; it transforms into a dynamic hub for environmental education and outreach. Through immersive guided tours, interactive exhibits, and engaging community programs, the preserve becomes a classroom where visitors of all ages can deepen their understanding of the delicate dance that sustains island ecosystems.

With every step taken along the preserve's trails, a journey of discovery unfolds. Educational programs provide insights into the delicate balance of nature, unveiling the intricate relationships that bind flora, fauna, and the environment. Visitors become participants in a collective effort to protect these precious habitats, evolving from casual observers to active stewards of the environment.

A Place of Tranquility and Reflection

Beyond its ecological and educational significance, Matanzas Pass Preserve extends an invitation to experience nature's healing embrace on a personal level. As you wander through the serene trails, a sense of calm envelops you, soothing the senses and quieting the mind. The rustling of leaves, the gentle sway of grasses, and the mesmerizing ebb and flow of tides create a symphony that resonates with the rhythm of life itself.

In a world characterized by constant motion, Matanzas Pass Preserve becomes a place of solace and reflection. It offers an opportunity to disconnect from the digital realm and reconnect with the primal beauty of the natural world. The preserve's tranquil ambience invites you to pause, to breathe, and to rediscover the profound sense of peace that comes from immersing yourself in the embrace of untouched nature.

Your Role in Conservation

As you step into Matanzas Pass Preserve, you become an integral piece of the puzzle in the grand scheme of conservation. Each footfall carries with it the potential to preserve the delicate balance that sustains this haven of biodiversity. By adhering to Leave No Trace principles, respecting the preserve's rules, and treading lightly on the earth, you contribute to its ongoing vitality.

However, your impact doesn't stop there. Through active involvement, you hold the power to shape the preserve's future. Whether through donations that support its maintenance and programs, volunteering your time and expertise, or spreading awareness about its importance, you play a crucial role in ensuring that Matanzas Pass Preserve continues to thrive. Your commitment reverberates through time, ensuring that future generations can revel in the wonders of this natural haven.

Ready to immerse yourself in the beauty of Matanzas Pass Preserve? Whether you're a nature enthusiast, history lover, or simply seeking an escape into the wild, the preserve welcomes you. Reach out to us at profbunting@gmail.com to discover our educational tours, city projects, and ways you can become an advocate for island preservation. Let's come together to celebrate the delicate dance of nature and history that defines our beloved Estero Island. Your engagement is a testament to our shared commitment to sustainability, and we can't wait to embark on this journey with you.

Hidden Gems: Must-Visit Historic Sites on Estero Island

Tue, 11 Jul 2023 02:38:28 GMT

Hidden Gems: Must-Visit Historic Sites on Estero Island

Are you ready to embark on a journey through time and uncover the rich history that's woven into the very fabric of Estero Island? Beyond its stunning beaches and vibrant atmosphere, this slice of paradise has its own cache of hidden historic gems waiting to be explored. Join us as we take you on a tour of the must-visit historic sites on Estero Island that offer a glimpse into its storied past.

Unveiling Estero Island's Rich History

Beyond the sun-kissed shores and bustling boardwalks of Estero Island lies a captivating history waiting to be explored. This barrier island's story stretches far beyond its beaches, intertwining with the narratives of Native American settlements, Spanish explorers, and the echoes of time. One of the most fascinating portals into this bygone era is the Mound House, a historic gem that beckons travelers to step back in time and immerse themselves in the island's heritage.

At the heart of Estero Island's historical tapestry, the Mound House stands as a testament to the island's enduring past. This extraordinary site offers more than just a glimpse into history; it's a journey through time itself. Immerse yourself in the atmosphere as you explore meticulously preserved artifacts, meander through lush gardens, and stand upon the very grounds that have witnessed centuries of change. Overlooking the serene expanse of Estero Bay, the Mound House transports you to a time when Native American communities thrived on the island's shores.

The Mound House doesn't merely showcase the past – it encapsulates the island's evolution. From the indigenous Calusa people to Spanish explorers, the layers of history are rich and diverse. As you walk through the corridors of this living museum, you'll find yourself captivated by the stories of those who once called Estero Island home. The past is alive here, waiting to share its tales with those who seek to unravel its mysteries.

The Lighthouse Legacy

While Estero Island boasts its own historical treasures, a short journey to the neighboring Sanibel Island offers a chance to witness the iconic Sanibel Island Lighthouse – a historic beacon that has guided ships and captured hearts for over a century. Though not physically on Estero Island, this lighthouse stands as a must-visit site for history enthusiasts seeking to uncover the Gulf Coast's maritime heritage.

Erected in the late 19th century, the Sanibel Island Lighthouse proudly carries the weight of history upon its sturdy shoulders. Its light once swept across the waves, offering safe passage to seafarers navigating treacherous waters. Ascend the winding staircase to the pinnacle of this monumental structure, and a world of breathtaking panoramas unfolds before you. The view stretches beyond the horizon, embracing both the Gulf of Mexico and the barrier islands that dot its expanse.

As you gaze from this historic vantage point, remember to capture the magic through your lens – a snapshot that immortalizes not only the lighthouse's architectural grandeur but also the connection between past and present. The Sanibel Island Lighthouse stands as a testament to the resilience of those who forged a maritime legacy, reminding us of the indomitable spirit that continues to shape the region's identity.

Tranquil Treasures

Nestled amidst the modern establishments that now define Estero Island, a charming relic from the past awaits discovery – the Estero Island Schoolhouse. A modest yet timeless structure, the schoolhouse carries within its walls the whispers of an era gone by, transporting visitors to the early 1900s when education thrived in the embrace of simplicity.

Step through the threshold of the Estero Island Schoolhouse, and you'll feel an undeniable connection to the past. Vintage desks, weathered chalkboards, and the faint scent of ink evoke a sense of nostalgia that transcends generations. In an age where education is often synonymous with technological advancement, this one-room schoolhouse harks back to a time when community, collaboration, and learning were intimately intertwined.

As you walk the corridors and peer into the classrooms frozen in time, you're invited to imagine a different rhythm of life – one where the echoes of children's laughter once filled the air. It's a poignant reminder that even as Estero Island has evolved, the essence of its history still lives on in these humble yet precious artifacts. The Estero Island Schoolhouse is a tranquil treasure that invites you to pause and reflect on the passage of time and the stories it weaves.

Seafaring Stories at the Maritime Museum

Venture beyond the surface of Estero Island's sun-drenched beauty, and you'll uncover a hidden gem that delves deep into the island's maritime heritage – the Estero Island Maritime Museum. Nestled among the coastal charms, this museum offers a captivating journey into the lives of fishermen, sailors, and the waves that have shaped the island's identity.

As you step into the Maritime Museum, you're instantly transported into a world where the sea reigns supreme. Enchanting exhibits weave tales of adventure, hardship, and triumph as they guide you through the island's seafaring past. The creak of old wooden boats, the scent of saltwater in the air – every element converges to create an immersive experience that speaks to the island's deep-rooted connection with the ocean.

Whether you're a maritime enthusiast or simply curious about the island's seafaring roots, the museum offers a treasure trove of stories waiting to be unearthed. Trace the footsteps of those who cast their nets into the sea, weathered storms, and navigated uncharted waters. Every artifact, every photograph, and every narrative invites you to embark on a voyage through time, exploring the island's maritime soul.

Exploring Estero Island's History Walk

For those who relish the blend of history and nature, Estero Island's History Walk presents an opportunity to immerse yourself in a journey of discovery. This self-guided trail meanders through the island's historic sites, offering plaques that bear witness to the tales of days gone by. With each step, you'll be transported back in time, tracing the evolution of Estero Island through the intriguing stories that unfold along the way.

As you set foot on the charming streets that wind through the island, you'll find yourself walking not only through space but through history itself. The plaques that line the path serve as windows into the past, sharing insights into the lives, struggles, and triumphs of those who have shaped Estero Island. From the humble beginnings to the vibrant present, every turn of the trail unveils a new chapter waiting to be discovered.

This History Walk is more than a leisurely stroll; it's an intimate connection with the island's essence. As you pause to read each plaque, take a moment to imagine the lives that once played out against this picturesque backdrop. Let the stories seep into your consciousness, reminding you that you're part of an ever-unfolding narrative that extends far beyond the horizon.

Matanzas Pass Preserve: Where Nature and History Converge

Beyond the tales of human history, there's another layer waiting to be uncovered at Matanzas Pass Preserve – a place where nature and history intertwine seamlessly. The preserve holds within its boundaries the remnants of the historic Fort Myers Beach Mound, offering a window into the lives of the Calusa Native Americans who once inhabited the region.

Step into Matanzas Pass Preserve, and you'll find yourself enveloped in a world of ecological wonder. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the gentle flow of water create a symphony that transports you to a different time. As you traverse the trails, you'll come across the ancient mound – a silent witness to the lives and traditions of the Calusa people who flourished here centuries ago.

The preserve isn't just a haven for nature enthusiasts; it's a portal to a forgotten world. Imagine the vibrant communities that once thrived along these shores, their stories etched into the landscape. The Matanzas Pass Preserve invites you to connect with the island's raw beauty while also honoring the indigenous cultures that have left their mark on this land.

Immersive Tales at Estero Island's Cultural Center

Concluding our journey through Estero Island's hidden historic treasures, we arrive at the Cultural Center – a contemporary façade that houses a treasure trove of history, art, and community stories. This dynamic space encapsulates the island's vibrant past and present, offering a myriad of workshops, exhibitions, and events that celebrate the island's heritage.

Step into the Cultural Center, and you'll find yourself immersed in an ambiance that resonates with creativity and culture. The air is alive with the hum of artists at work, the buzz of conversations, and the shared appreciation for the island's diverse tapestry. Workshops offer you the chance to learn traditional crafts, while exhibitions unveil the works of local artists who draw inspiration from the island's past and present.

From local art showcases that capture the island's visual beauty to cultural festivals that showcase its lively spirit, the Cultural Center serves as a living testament to Estero Island's enduring allure. Here, history isn't confined to dusty books or distant memories; it's a living, breathing force that shapes the island's identity. Engaging with the center's offerings means becoming an active participant in the ongoing story of Estero Island – a story that is both immersive and timeless.

As we journey through time exploring these hidden historic gems, we invite you to become a part of Estero Island's narrative. Connect with us at profbunting@gmail.com to learn more about our educational tours, public meetings, city projects, and the array of souvenirs that carry the essence of this island's history. Let's celebrate the past together and create enduring connections with Estero Island's heritage. Your curiosity and engagement keep the stories alive, and we look forward to embarking on this enriching journey with you.

Another Loss For Fort Myers Beach: RIP AJ Bassett

Fri, 28 Apr 2023 02:29:58 GMT

Another Loss For Fort Myers Beach: RIP AJ Bassett

Ellie Bunting

The passing of longtime Beach resident AJ Bassett this week is another loss for our island. AJ was one of the few residents still alive who were on the island in the 1940s. When her newly widowed mother, Mildred, packed up her three children (AJ, Connie, and Frandy) and her mother and drove from Philadelphia to Fort Myers Beach, there were just 279 people living on the island. Connie and AJ were only 6 years old. The family rented a cottage on the beach and began their new life as islanders.

Mildred was a graduate of Bryn Mawr College in Philadelphia, so it did not take long for her to get a job teaching Latin in Fort Myers. She was instrumental in helping to raise funds to build the second Beach School on Sterling Street. Eventually, she became a teacher at the school, and later the principal when the third school opened.

I did not know AJ growing up on the island as she was older and in college when I was a kid. However, I did get to know Mildred as she and my mother became good friends since my mom taught at the Beach School when Mildred was principal. AJ attended Florida State University where she was a competitive swimmer. She became a teacher herself and spent many years teaching in Miami.

AJ was very close with her twin sister, Connie, who passed away several years ago. These girls, along with Fran Santini, Jean Matthew, and Jo Hughes grew up on the island when it was nothing but a jungle of sea oats and mangroves. They had a wonderful childhood running barefoot on the beach, sailing in the back bay, and fishing in the Gulf. They were instrumental in forming the Estero Island Historic Society in 1991 and getting the Davison’s “We’re Here” cottage donated and moved to Bay Road to become a museum.

When AJ asked me to join the Board of Directors of the Historic Society about twenty years ago, I did not hesitate. We worked closely together for many years, and I learned more about the island’s history from her than from any history books.

Prior to September 28, I was organizing some of the files that AJ had been working on before her health began to fail. I was amazed at the work that she had put into these files. She had separate files for all kinds of information about the Beach. Everything from environmental issues to people who had shaped our history were included in the hundreds of files she had been working on. Unfortunately, these were all destroyed in the hurricane.

In addition, AJ was the curator of the museum. She set up all the exhibits and kept the museum alive with history. She would invite the Beach School kids to come to the cottage each Christmas to eat homemade cookies and learn about island history.

For many years, FGCU students would visit the cottage once a semester as part of their environmental education courses. AJ and Jo Hughes would share stories growing up on the island in the 40s as they toured the museum and the preserve.

AJ was always coming up with new ways to earn money for society. The Historical Boat Tours and Trolley Tours were very popular with residents and snowbirds alike. She got the last remaining rain barrel donated to the Historic Society. At the time, my son was on track to become an Eagle Scout, and AJ convinced him that moving the rain barrel and setting it up at the cottage would make a great project. He successfully completed the project, and the rain barrel survived the storm although it will need some TLC to get back into its previous shape.

The Historic Society will miss her as we begin our rebuilding process. Once the museum is ready to open, we will be planning an event to celebrate the lives of AJ, Jo Hughes, Tom Myers, Bill Van Duzer, Bill Semmer, Jack Underhill, and others whom we have lost in recent years.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere A Sign: A Short Lesson In Sign History On FMB

Fri, 17 Mar 2023 02:26:34 GMT

Signs, Signs, Everywhere A Sign: A Short Lesson In Sign History On FMB

Ellie Bunting

For the past few weeks, volunteers have been busy painting street signs to help people navigate on the island. Very few of the “Approved” signs survived the storm, so this was a great way for people to help out with the rebuilding of FMB. Unfortunately, some controversary has arisen about these signs since they are not “up to code.” I thought this might be a good time to look back about seventy years when the last sign controversary rocked the Beach.

Back in the early days when the population of the island was less than 500, people named their homes with monikers like “Sea Breeze” and “Gulf View” and “Pine Cone.” A Post Office had been on the island in some form since the 1900s, but there was no home delivery because the beach lacked street signs and house numbers. Jeff Brame, who was the official telegram man on the island, tried to have each house register with him at Gulf View so he would know how to find people if they received a telegram. However, he was not very successful in doing this, and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep track of all the houses.

Residents wanted a logical numbering system, so, in the late 50s, an engineering firm was finally hired to come up with a house numbering system that would allow mail delivery. However, having a logical numbering system was not going to help unless there were street signs. Residents petitioned the county to provide the signs, but this was not a top priority for them.

Therefore, residents on each street took it upon themselves to create their own street signs. Walt Thomas, who owned the Beach Hardware, provided the boards and the paint, and volunteers from each street took the boards home and hand painted a sign for their street.

Eventually, the signs were put up, a logical numbering system was installed, and mail was finally delivered to the houses. In many ways, they were better off than we are today.

Red Tide: Yesterday, Today, And Tomorrow

Tue, 07 Mar 2023 03:22:56 GMT

Red Tide: Yesterday, Today, And Tomorrow

Ellie Bunting

Recently, the smell of dead fish has been a common occurrence along the Gulf coast. The culprit is red tide, a phenomenon caused by the proliferation of microscopic algae in the waters. Red tides are not a new problem as they were first recorded in the 16th century when Spanish explorers heard stories about the “red water” that resulted in the death of many fish and birds.

It wasn’t until 1844 that the first scientifically documented red tide outbreak occurred along the West Florida coast near Panama City. In 1878 Florida experienced a long period of red tide episodes that lasted for ten years. Two years later, birds began dying along the Gulf coast, and some believe this was related to red tide. In 1844, the first reported incident of a human becoming sick from eating infected shellfish was recorded in Florida. Over 100 years later, a massive red-tide bloom was experienced along the Gulf Coast that lasted over a year and destroyed the commercial fishing industry around the Panhandle. This outbreak was also responsible for killing the sponge beds near Tarpon Springs.

Time magazine reported, “The spray of the poisoned surf inflamed human throats and lungs. Tourists deserted the hotels; schools were closed; beach areas evacuated.” One of the Gulf Coast cities affected was Venice, site of the first documented evidence of red tide on the lower Gulf Coast.

The outbreaks continued into the 1950s when an 18 month episode haunted the Gulf Coast in 1953. Things calmed down for almost 40 years until a two year boom began in 1994, followed by a return in 1996 which affected the waters from Pinellas County to Key West and is blamed for the deaths of 238 manatees.

Since 1998, there has been an unbroken run of annual red-tide blooms that continued into the 21st Century. The 2001 outbreak caused the Apalachicola Bay to be closed to shellfishing, and in 2002, a bloom closed shellfishing from Napels to Nokomis and contributed to a 60 mile patch of black water in the gulf.

The first incidence of red-tide poisoning was found in 2003 in three dogs on Little Gasparilla Island. Three years later, a bloom lasted almost a year and caused a “dead zone” the size of Rhode Island on the Gulf floor.

After a brief respite, in 2006, red tide picked up again, causing state scientists to call the bloom that began in 2005 one of the two or three worst in Florida’s history.

In 2018, a massive red tide bloom along Florida’s southwestern coast killed 2,000 tons of marine life and caused $8 million in business losses.

In 2018, 174 dolphins died between July 2018 and June 20, 2019 in Collier, Lee, Charlotte, Sarasota, Manatee, Hillsborough and Pinellas counties, according to the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration. The reported deaths was considered an “unusually high mortality rate,” and many of the dolphins tested positive for the red tide toxin, NOAA reported

In 2020 there was a brief break in the red-tide blooms. However, that luck did not last as 2021 was a very bad year for red tide especially along Pinellas, Manatee, and Sarasota counties. Three hundred pound goliath groupers were being lifted off the beaches by backhoes and placed into dumpsters along with all kinds of other dead marine life.

According to the Tampa Tribune, “twenty-two days after Hurricane Ian made landfall, the first signs of a red tide bloom emerged on Florida’s Gulf Coast.” On Oct. 20 researchers documented medium levels of the organism that causes toxic blooms.

Until this time, Southwest Florida had gone almost a year without a major bloom. However, now, four months after first being noticed, red tide is raging from Pinellas County to Collier County. Thousands of pounds of dead fish are washing up on shore causing breathing problems for coastal residents.

Is it a coincidence that red tide shows up less than three weeks after Hurricane Ian slammed our coast? Experts say that red tide would be occurring with our without the storm; however, it is possible that the hurricane brought the bloom closer to shore.

Scientists do admit that toxic algae was really bad after Hurricane Charley in 2004 and Irma in 2017, but it is not possible to confirm a causal relationship. We do know that red tide generally occurs in late September or early October.

Red tide usually begins in late September or early October, just like it did this past fall. That happens to coincide with the height of the Atlantic hurricane season (federal meteorologists consider Sept. 10 to be the peak). There were already trace levels of the red tide-causing organism brewing two weeks before Ian’s landfall, more than 10 miles offshore of Collier County. It was out there, in small amounts though not yet a bloom, as early as Sept. 13, according to data provided by the wildlife institute.

Most experts believe that red tide blooms are born offshore and, as time passes, they move closer to the beaches. The question remains whether Ian helped push the karenia brevis organism that causes red tide closer to the shore. Scientists think that Ian pushed the red tide into the shore, and when the winter cold fronts came through, that helped to move the red tide into the beaches. In other words, we would have had a red tide this year with or without Ian.

However, even though Ian did not “cause” the red tide, the polluted water that flowed off the land after Ian provided nutrients that red tide used to feed on. In contrast to harmless algae that floats around in our waters, Karena brevis swims up and down the water to find these nutrients. They also swim up to the surface where they find the light. They have one problem though. This type of algae does not do well in fresh water, so they can’t find the nutrients right after the storm. Instead, they need to wait until the water gets more salty. Once the freshwater mixes with the salt water, the Karenia brevis can move in and feed on the nutrients.

Richard Stumpf, an oceanographer at NOAA, believes that the red tide is persisting because the northerly winds that are common on our coast in the winter months have been weaker than average, and have not been able to keep the algae off shore. The southwest winds we have seen recently bring the bloom closer to shore.

Hurricane History: 1921 Storm Hits Crescent Beach

Sat, 29 Oct 2022 02:17:54 GMT

Hurricane History: 1921 Storm Hits Crescent Beach

Ellie Bunting

It has been almost a month since our lives were turned upside down when Hurricane Ian came ashore on our barrier islands. The damage done on FMB is almost impossible to comprehend. Landmarks and homes that dotted our island for years are no longer standing. Driving down Estero Blvd, it is difficult to determine where you are without these familiar homes and other landmarks that gave us a feeling of stability.

Over the past month, there has been much anguish, anger, and acceptance as residents begin the difficult task of starting over. At times it seems impossible. Many questions are being asked: How will we rebuild? What will the island look like post Ian? Will we lose our funky beach feel? Will the developers swope down and buy up all the damaged buildings changing the face of the beach forever?

I am sure these same questions have been asked before as our island has seen its share of hurricanes for over 100 years. This is the first in a series of blog posts discussing the other storms that have wreaked havoc on our island. No matter how bad the storm turned out to be, the Beach residents faced the destruction head on and rebuilt. I feel confident that this will be the case again because Beach people are resilient, and the love they have for the island will withstand any category 4 or 5 storm. Let’s begin by going back 101 years to October 1921, when a no name storm hit Tampa causing damage up and down the west coast.

Imagine what life was like for the 62 residents who lived on what was then called Crescent Beach in 1921. Prior to that year, the island was accessible only by boat. The one place to stay once you arrived on the island was the Winkler Hotel at the end of Pompano Street. However, once the bridge was built in 1921, the Real Estate Boom began on Crescent Beach. In fact, things were going so well that the Fort Myers Press stated in a headline, “Crescent Beach Center of Most Intense Development in Florida Today.”

After the bridge was opened, it was not uncommon for 200 cars to cross in a single day bringing 1,000s of visitors to the island where they would drive on the beach, enjoy the casinos, and bath in the warm gulf waters. Unfortunately, the boom was interrupted when a low pressure system was observed in the western Caribbean on October 17, 1921. Five days later, a Category one hurricane had formed with winds of 81 mph. By October 25, the storm had intensified into a Cat 4 with winds up to 140 mph.

Although the storm came ashore a little north of Tarpon Springs, the damage done to Fort Myers Beach was great. A storm surge of over 10 feet swept over the island demolishing docks and piers, sinking ships, and flooding homes and businesses. Damages to homes, buildings, bridges, and docks totaled more than 3 million dollars (1921 dollars). In 1921, the Sanibel Island which is now famous for its pristine beaches and seashells was best known for its fruit and vegetable crops. Sanibel grapefruits were being sold all over the country. Tomatoes grew so well in the calcified soils they fetched $1.50 a piece in New York City. The Gulf overtook the land, drowning the fruit and vegetable farms which never recovered.

The storm hit with such force that much of the coastal topography was altered forever. In Lee County, the storm was responsible for carving out Redfish Pass, which connected the Gulf of Mexico to Pine Island Sound. Another island swept away by the storm surge was Passage Key, a little north of Redfish Pass. This 60 acre island was designated as a wildlife sanctuary by President Roosevelt in 1905. This key once housed lush vegetation, a spring-fed freshwater lake, and over 102 species of sea birds. Today, Passage Key is little more than a sandbar that is submerged most of the year.

The few structures on the island at that time suffered damages. The Seminole Sands Casino and bath house were ruined along with several cottages. The road leading to the island from Bunch Beach was washed away. The hurricane can be best remembered because it washed away the tomb of Koresh (Cyrus Teed). After the storm had abated, the tomb was gone. However, by January of 1922, most of the storm damage had been repaired along with the road and the bridge.

After the hurricane, the beach development continued unabated. Phone service finally came to the area in 1922 with a pay station installed near the home of the bridge tender. It cost 25 cents to make a call to Fort Myers. A little later, a second phone was installed in the Seminole Sands Casino. By May of 1923, Thomas Philips had rebuilt his dance pavilion and bath house. By June, the road from McGregor to the beach was under construction.

Gulf Heights Subdivision, Watson’s Subdivision, Venetian Gardens, and Gulf View Plaza were all developed after the storm. Two more canals were created called Canal Grande and Rio Del Lido. By 1923, the island had finally recovered from the 1921 storm. Unfortunately, another storm was to hit three years later in 1926.

Celebrating 100 Years On Estero Island

Fri, 17 Dec 2021 03:14:29 GMT

Celebrating 100 Years On Estero Island

Ellie Bunting

Ellie enjoys sharing her knowledge of local history with others. She has been on the Board of the Estero Island Historical Society for twenty years. In addition, she has been working with her husband, Bob, in real estate for the past three years and has an extensive knowledge of the local market.

1921-2021

Before 1921, the only way to access the island was by boat. This limited development but did not detract people from taking a boat and enjoying a few days on the beach.

When the toll bridge to the island was finally finished in May 1921, the population on Fort Myers Beach grew to 62. The real estate “boom” of the 1920s was in full swing around the state. Now that our island was accessible, development was inevitable.

This posting celebrates four properties that have survived 100 years on Fort Myers Beach: Silver Sands Cottages and the Gulf Shore Inn are still in operation today. The Davison’s “We’re Here” cottage is now serving as the Estero Island Historic Society’s Museum. The cottage known as “Pinecone” located at 3320 Estero remains at its original location and is still being enjoyed by the owners and renters.

The Estero Island Historic Society will hold its open house celebrating the 100 year anniversary of the
We’re Here Cottage. Join us on Saturday, December 18 at 10:00 AM and visit the historic cottage decorated for Christmas. We will also have a bit of entertainment and a chance to purchase some homemade goodies at our bake sale. Rumor has it that the famous rum balls will be available for sale.

Silver Sands Cottages

Thomas Phillips was a wealthy inventor from Maryland who put his mark on the island in many ways. In 1921 he opened “Silver Sands” which became the first cottage court on the island. Phillips offered four palm thatched cabins to overnight visitors. When the Depression hit in the 1930s, the Silver Sands Cottages were owned by the Lea family and served as a beach retreat for visitors from all over the country. In the 1940s there was a rent freeze, and the summer rates were in effect all year. At that time, you could rent a cottage for $1 per night or $5 a week. Today, the resort is still in operation.

Phillips is also credited with digging the first canal on Crescent Street in 1921. He created Eucalyptus Park in the 20s where he sold 20 foot lots for a “very low price.”

Gulf Shore Inn

According to Rolfe Schell in his History of Fort Myers Beach, during June 1921, the beach was crowded. There were over 100 people bathing at one time and the cars were speeding up and down the beach. All these people were most likely hanging out in front of the casino and bath house that Phillips had constructed on the Gulf. The casino was known as Pete Nelson’s “Crescent Beach Casino” when Estero Island was known as Crescent Beach.

The Casino offered visitors the use of a bathhouse, swimsuit, and towel. It also sold hot dogs and hamburgers to visitors parked along the beachfront. Later, Phillips added a gambling casino with a dance floor. After the 1926 hurricane, a restaurant was added, and In 1930, rooms were built above the restaurant, and the name was changed to “Gulf Shore Inn” making this a popular destination for winter visitors. During the 1940’s, The Gulf Shore Inn was home to officers stationed in Fort Myers during WWII. The building was damaged in the 1944 hurricane, but repairs were made, and the Inn remained in operation for many years.

In 1997 “The Cottage” was acquired and opened as an indoor/outdoor bar with deck adjacent to the original Gulf Shore dining room. The name was changed to the “The Gulf Shore Grill.” Today the original building and the cottage are still being operated as a restaurant and bar.

The Pinecone Cottage

Although the Davison Cottage was built in 1921, it was destroyed by the 1944 hurricane and rebuilt using much of the same materials on the same beach front lot at the end of Mango Street. Another cottage that was also built in 1921 is located at 3320 Estero and is known as the Pinecone Cottage.

Originally part of the Robert Gilbert homestead, lot #11 was sold to William Case in 1911. Case was one of the first “developers” on the island. He created the “Case Subdivision” after purchasing a portion of Gilbert’s homestead.

Case sold the lot in 1915 to Minnie Thompson of Massachusetts. Thompson owned the lot until 1920 when she sold it to Friend Dudley Case, possibly a relative of William Case, the developer.

The house was built in 1921 by Friend Case who lived there until 1925 when his wife died, and he sold the home to Elmer Hough. Elmer Hough was a well-known engineer and state senator in West Virginia before moving to Fort Myers in 1923 where he became involved in the local community and served as a two-term mayor beginning in 1926.

Hough died in 1939 and his widow, Florence Bolton Hough, sold the home to Ester Anne Power. Power owned the home from 1939 until 1941 when she sold it to Elizabeth Smith.

Smith owned the home until her death in 1963 when it was sold to Dan and Yvonne Griggs. In 1967, the Griggs sold the home to Clarence C. Kent and Neal S. Kent. The Kents then sold the house to the Comparettos in 1972. The house is still in the Comparetto family who use it as a vacation home and rental property.

We’re Here: The Davison Cottage

Kim Davison first came to the island by boat with his father, who was a surveyor. The Davisons had a house in Fort Myers, but, in 1921, they built a small cottage on the beach at the end of Mango Street. The cottage served five generations of the Davison family. For many years, the cottage was the home of the San Castle Kindergarten which was operated by Kim’s wife, Sue. The cottage was destroyed in the 1944 hurricane, but the family was able to save the lumber and rebuild their beach home after the storm.

In 1995, the cottage was moved from the beachfront to its present location at the end of Bay Road where it houses the Estero Island Historic Society’s Museum. The museum has displays, archives, and a collection of old photos showing the island’s original cottages and bridges.

End Of An Era: Changing Face Of Fort Myers Beach

Mon, 11 Oct 2021 02:08:54 GMT

End Of An Era: Changing Face Of Fort Myers Beach

Ellie Bunting

Each day as I travel off the island, I notice more and more beach landmarks being demolished to make way for the Margaritaville resort. So far, the old Surf Club (Mermaid), the Pierview Hotel, Beach Bums, and Helmerich Plaza have been razed.

For the past decade, the old plaza has been deteriorating as the lawsuits played out before construction could begin on the new project. Although most of these structures were well past their prime, at one time they were an important part of our island’s history. Since I have already written about the demise of the Mermaid (originally the Surf Club), this post is going to reflect on the Plaza, which, in my mind, will always be referred to as “Bigelow Center.”

Charles Bigelow built the plaza in late 1951, and it soon became the business center of the island. Going through copies of the News-Press during the 1950s, I was amazed at how important this plaza was to the residents of our island. First, the plaza was the home of many different businesses, so it was a logical place to hold other events such as bake sales, art walks, cookie sales, and even car washes. In the 50s, going to Fort Myers to shop was a major event.
The 30-mile drive to town would often take over an hour (one way) since McGregor Boulevard was the main road to town at the time, and the swing bridge opened every hour causing traffic to back up in both directions.

Therefore, the Beach merchants did everything they could to keep beach residents (and their money) on the beach. In Bigelow Center, you could see a doctor (Edward Burke, 1955), purchase your weekly groceries (Carlos Bay Foodway), get a prescription filled (Beach Pharmacy), get materials for a home improvement project (Beach Hardware), and check out the newest appliances (Beach TV Center).

You could even buy a diamond ring (DuRants/Dewitt Jewelry), a suit (Men’s Shop), or a birthday present (Basket and Gift Center). Other businesses included The Sun Shop which sold women’s clothing, the El Mercado, another clothing store featuring a South American flair, and the Beach Variety and Hobby Shop which sold a little bit of everything. In addition to shopping, you could also visit a lawyer (Leslie Ahrenholtz), check out insurance prices (San Carlos Insurance Agency), and mail a letter (US Post Office). You could also enjoy breakfast or lunch at the Tradewinds Café.

As you can see, at one time, Bigelow Center was the hub for the island businesses and remained an important part of the community well into the 60s and 70s. Once the new bridge was built, businesses began to relocate or close, leaving the plaza struggling. As the area around the island began to grow, more and more businesses moved off island and residents no longer needed to drive an hour to buy clothes, visit a doctor, or grab a quick bite to eat. Before it was demolished, the plaza was still home to a few businesses including a liquor store, a bike rental shop, and the Lee County Sheriff’s Office Outreach Center.

Although I had a moment of sadness as I watched the plaza turn to dust, I know that progress is inevitable and someday, the new resort will rise out of the ashes. I just hope that the property is remembered for what it was “back in the day.”

What’s In A Name? From Crescent Beach To Fort Myers Beach

Fri, 25 Jun 2021 02:05:19 GMT

What’s In A Name? From Crescent Beach To Fort Myers Beach

Ellie Bunting

What’s in a name? According to Shakespeare, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” It wasn’t that easy for the early developers of Fort Myers Beach. In the 1920s, Estero Island was known as “Crescent Beach.” The name was a logical choice because the island is, indeed, shaped like a crescent.

However, at some point in 1921 when developers were busy building casinos, bathhouses, hotels, and other entertainment enterprises, the name Crescent Beach became a hot topic of discussion. Reading the mailbag in the News-Press during 1921, I saw many letters to the editor discussing the new name for Estero Island. After doing some research, I finally discovered why the name was changed.

The name Crescent Beach became an issue when the mail service to the island became a regular occurrence. Since there was already a Crescent Beach in the Tampa/St. Petersburg area, letters addressed to residents of Crescent Beach quite often ended up being delivered to the “other” Crescent Beach. Likewise, letters addressed to residents of the Crescent Beach up state were delivered to the post office on the island where they would need to be returned to senders.

Obviously, this was very confusing. Through my research, I learned that it is ok to have towns with the same name in different states, but there should be no towns with the same name in the same state.

Thus began the dilemma of finding a new name for Estero Island. As you can imagine, this created quite a controversary in Fort Myers as well as on the island. This was the beginning of the 1920s “boom.” Many people were investing heavily in the development of the island as a “tropical resort” and a “beach paradise.” Hotels and casinos were sprouting up on the beach, a new road from Fort Myers was being built, and the island finally had a real bridge so cars could drive onto the island. Prior to this the only way to access the island was to drive down McGregor to what is now John Morris road and follow the shoreline to the foot of the bridge (near Bonita Bills). At this point, passengers had to leave their cars and take a barge across the bay where they would be dropped off at Snug Harbor and walk to the beach from there.

With the opening of the new road and bridge , the developers were busy promoting the island nationwide. Changing the name from Crescent Beach was going to affect these promotions.

One of the most well known of these developers was Captain Jack DeLysle who was building a modern casino, bath house, cottages, and hotel at the end of Connecticut. He chose the name Wonder Beach for his new development and was promoting it as a name to replace Crescent Beach.

Unfortunately, the name Wonder Beach did not provide a positive connotation for the new resort. To many, it sounded cheap and reminded people of Coney Island. DeLysle hired a marketing expert to help come up with a new name for his casino. After doing much research, Seminole Sands was chosen as the name to replace Wonder Beach.

Although DeLysle would have loved it if Seminole Sands become the new name for the island as well, it was not to be. Many different names were discussed (Crystal Beach, Carlos Beach, Matanzas Beach, Lee Beach, Gasperilla Beach, Gulf on Estero Island, and finally Fort Myers Beach).

Many of those who lived on the island and were involved in its development were not thrilled with the name Fort Myers Beach. Back in those days, the residents of Fort Myers viewed the island as their “asset” and “playground.” They would come on weekends to party and then return home. Some would buy lots and build cottages, but they would only be used during the summer and would be rented out in the winter. Island residents wanted to have a name that reflected the many wonderful attributes of the island rather than a moniker that reflected its relationship with the town of Fort Myers.

I really couldn’t pinpoint how or why Fort Myers Beach was chosen as the name, but by May 1921, all references to Crescent Beach or Wonder Beach were removed from the paper and any story about the island used the name Fort Myers Beach.

Even as I was growing up in the 50s and 60s, some residents were still pushing to change the name to Estero Island and get rid of the Fort Myers moniker for good.

Fort Myers Beach History Spotlight: Hugh McPhie

Wed, 09 Jun 2021 01:57:48 GMT

The Galloway Murders Shocked The Beach In 1953

Ellie Bunting

This is the first in a series of stories I plan to publish celebrating the individuals that have shaped our island’s history over the past 200 years.

For the most part, in the late 1800s, Fort Myers Beach was uninhabited except for a few brave souls who decided to take advantage of the Homestead Act of 1862. This act allowed the head of a family (or any person over the age of 21), to claim as much as 160 acres of public land. In order get a title to the property, the homesteader had to live on the land (called “proving the claim”) and cultivate it for five years.

It took until 1875 for the island to be platted which enabled the deeding of properties. Therefore, those few people who lived on the island prior to 1875 were not legal homesteaders; rather they were referred to as “squatters.” However, if a person were to live on a property for six months, he or she could pay cash for the land and receive a title. The going price at in the 1870s was $1.25 per acre.

Most homesteaders who lived on the island built primitive palm-thatched log homes (cheekees). They were isolated from the mainland, since the first bridge to the beach was not completed until 1921. Because the island was made up of thick patches of saw palmettos and mangroves, there were no roads, and the only way to get around was by horse or boat.

One of the earliest homesteaders on the island was a man named Hugh McPhie. He arrived in America from Scotland in the late 1880s and, in 1899, McPhie was granted the third patent on the island homesteading 112 acres running from Flamingo Street to Fairview Isles (the first patent went to Robert Gilbert, and the second to Albert Austin). In 1907, McPhie proved his second claim which ran from Aberdeen Street to Avenida Pescadora and to the end of Seminole Way.

According to Jean Matthew, in her book, We Never Wore Shoes, McPhie was considered the “island hermit” back in the 1920s and 1930s. McPhie’s story is a tragic one. He left Scotland after his wife died in an epidemic leaving his two young sons to live with his sister. His original plan was to come to America, find a new wife, and then send for his children.

Eventually, McPhie discovered Fort Myers Beach which was the perfect place to be alone in his grief. Matthew reports that, “Hugh lived alone in a fishing shack near the south end and managed to cultivate a garden and catch enough fish to make out a living.” The old McPhie homesite was situated in a beautiful coconut grove just south of what is now the Outrigger Hotel.

Since there were no stores on the island at that time, when he needed supplies, McPhie would row his boat over to Sanibel where there was a small store and a post office.

McPhie loved living on the island and resented the “development” that he thought would ruin the life he knew so well. For many years, he refused to give in to developers who were trying to purchase his land. However, in 1938 he finally surrendered and developed a tract of land known as McPhie Park (from Aberdeen Street to Avenida Pescadora and to the end of Seminole Way).

According to Rolfe Schell in his book, History of Fort Myers Beach, McPhie held on to his properties longer than any of the other early homesteaders. At one time, during the 1920s real estate boom, McPhie was offered half a million dollars for his land, but he turned it down. He cared more about the land than he did the money. Once he subdivided McPhie Park, he sold many lots in the park and most of his original homestead for forty thousand dollars (Schell).

Shortly after selling off some of his land, McPhie returned to his home country for the first time in 50 years to find his sons had grown up and were now old men like him. McPhie only stayed in Scotland a few weeks. His sister came to live with him once he made improvements to his shack. She stayed with him until 1942 when he was found dead on the beach. His homesite was destroyed in the 1944 hurricane.

The Galloway Murders Shocked The Beach In 1953

Mon, 10 May 2021 01:54:48 GMT

The Galloway Murders Shocked The Beach In 1953

Ellie Bunting

On September 2, 1953, Ted “Carl” Smiddy was hitchhiking near Atlanta, Georgia shortly after being released from jail in Tennessee for breaking and entering and larceny. Smiddy was only 16 years old when he was picked up by Ernest Walter Moore, a convicted murderer who served ten years in an Ohio State prison before being paroled. Moore presented himself as a professional gambler. He showed Smiddy a wad of cash and promised him a job when they got to Miami. Smiddy gladly accepted the ride and was impressed by his new found friend.

The duo began their trip South making Jacksonville their first stop. They began their crime spree by robbing a Jacksonville motel of about $7.00. Continuing south to St. Augustine, the pair robbed a house where they stole some jewelry and clothing. When they arrived in Miami, the men broke into another house and stole a .32 caliber automatic. Moore and Smiddy left Miami and headed for the West Coast where they ended up on Fort Myers Beach.

While Moore and Smiddy were making their way to Estero Island, Jim and Mary Galloway were enjoying a quiet evening at home. The Galloways had recently built a home on the beach front in the newly developed Island Shores subdivision at the north end of the island (near Bowditch today). In 1953, the beach front houses were few and far between, which was the main reason that the murderers chose to rob the Galloway house on the evening of September 5.

Jim and Mary were a very well known couple on the island. In 1948 the Galloways came to the Beach from Detroit. They loved the island and soon opened the Mermaid Club, which became a popular local watering hole. Originally, the Mermaid Club was located on Estero Blvd where the Whale restaurant is presently located, right across from the Surf Club which was built a couple years later. Jim and Mary Galloway were very involved with the community as Jim was chairman of the anti-incorporation committee, and Mary was a correspondent for the News-Press.

When Jim Galloway heard a knock on his door that September evening, he probably did not think twice before he opened the door. After all, Fort Myers Beach was a safe, quiet island, far from the crimes of a larger city. Unfortunately, when the door was opened, Moore put a gun in Galloway’s face and took his wallet. He made Galloway sit in a chair where he tied him up and hit him over the head with a large whiskey bottle.

Smiddy, in the meantime, was frightened by what Moore was doing, so he was hiding behind the door when he heard Mary Galloway’s scream followed by a gunshot. After killing Jim and Mary, Moore told Smiddy to go to the car. Moore then went to Galloway’s private bar and had a few drinks before he splashed gas all over the house and set it on fire. The murderers took off in a stolen car with $81.00.

What happened next was pure luck. As Moore and Smiddy were heading to Fort Myers, Russell Garris, a Florida State Trooper, noticed a car with a broken headlight. Garris pulled the car over for what he thought was a normal traffic stop. However, as soon as he got out of his patrol car, Moore jumped out of his car and started shooting at Garris who took a bullet in the thigh before be got off six shots, hitting Moore in the chest and head. Smiddy, meanwhile, was once again hiding in the front seat of the car.

Moore was taken to Lee Memorial Hospital and died two hours later. Smiddy was taken into custody where he told the police that Moore had given him a .38 caliber gun and told him to start shooting; however, Smiddy refused to take the gun and hunkered down in the car while Moore and Garris exchanged gunfire.

At the time of the incident, the police were unaware of the connection between these men and the Galloway murders and house fire. It did not take long, however, for Smiddy to confess to the Galloway murders as well.

Smiddy was tried twice in Lee County but was never convicted. The first trial was declared a mistrial when the jury could not reach a verdict. The second trial was also a mistrial when the attorneys could not agree on a jury. The case was then moved to Sarasota where the jury deliberated for over five hours before handing down two verdicts of manslaughter and sentenced Smiddy to two ten year sentences of hard labor at Raiford. Smiddy was transferred to the Apalachee Correctional Institute where he escaped in 1955. He turned himself in that same day and died in 1985.

End Of An Era

Mon, 03 May 2021 01:46:24 GMT

End Of An Era

Ellie Bunting

This week, the Mermaid Club is closing for good. This iconic beach bar has been a staple in the community since the 1950s. The history of the bar, however, dates back a few decades earlier. Originally located on the beach at the end of what is now Palermo Drive, Nettie’s was a popular place for sunbathers, fishermen, and anyone else who was spending the day on the island. The restaurant was opened by Nettie (Antoinette) Pavese shortly after the Depression and was well known for serving some of the best Italian food in Lee County.

The structure was damaged in the 1947 hurricane and rebuilt as “Nattie’s Bar.” However, in the early 1950s, the building was completely destroyed. After “Nettie’s Bar” was demolished, Nettie’s daughter, Rose, and her husband, Eddie Pacelli, rebuilt the business. This time, instead of locating a new structure directly on the beach, Rose and Eddie constructed a large concrete building facing Estero Blvd. They held a contest to name their new business which resulted in a tie vote. The Surf Club and Rose and Eddie’s were the winning names, so for many years, the old Netties was now called Rose and Eddie’s Surf Club.

The business has had many owners since Rose and Eddie opened in 1953. They sold the business to Fred and Dottie Holbrook in the 1960s. Connie and Roy Amos owned the business sometime in the 70s selling it to the Van Selows in 1981. In 2009, the name was changed from the Surf Club to the Mermaid Club, and Bruce Cermack, a one time partner in the business, opened another bar called the Surf Club in the old Waffle House building. The Van Selows sold the building to TPI in 2015 but continued to operate the former Surf Club as the Mermaid Club until the scheduled closing this week.

The original Mermaid Club was opened by Dave Eldrite in 1949 in the building that now houses the Whale Restaurant (formally the Beached Whale). For many years, these two bars, across the street from each other, were favorite stops for locals as well as tourists. Many beach kids had their first legal drinks in either the Mermaid or the Surf Club. When I was growing up, my father and his friends would often meet for drinks at one of these establishments, so I was familiar with them. When I came home for Christmas vacation from college back in the 1970s, I remember going to the Mermaid for a drink and was amazed to see how many other beach kids home for break were also meeting there for drinks. I was excited to see that the same bar my father and his friends frequented back in the 50s and 60s was now a hang out for the next generation. Although I have not been to either of these establishments in many years, they remain an important part of beach history

History Corner: Early Days On FMB

Tue, 28 Jul 2020 01:41:42 GMT

History Corner: Early Days On FMB

Ellie Bunting

Early Subdivisions and Developments 1900-1920 Tarpon Fever

Tarpon are one of the most sought after game fish.

In 1885, the first tarpon caught on a rod and reel put Punta Rassa and the surrounding islands on the map as a fishing paradise. Prior to that, fishermen would use hand lines with mullet for bait to catch tarpon. Fisherman on the island quickly realized they could make extra money as charter captains catering to the tourists who were flocking to the island in search of the elusive tarpon.

H.C. Case

The early part of the 20th century brought more development as subdivisions were platted on Fort Myers Beach. H.C. Case platted the first of these subdivisions in 1911. Originally this was part of the Robert Gilbert homestead. Starting at Connecticut Street, the subdivision extended about three quarters of a mile both north and south.

At this time Estero Boulevard was called Eucalyptus Avenue. This was a north-south shell road that ended at Connecticut. If you wanted to travel farther south, you would need to continue your journey on the beach.

T.P. Hill

Another five years passed before T.P. Hill subdivided a large tract starting at Crescent Street and ending just south of Gulf Drive. The lots that were on the beach side of Estero were normal sized lots. However, the lots on the other side of the road were approximately 9-10 acres running from the street to the bay.

Three years later, Seagrape Subdivision was put on the market. These lots were located on Mango and Avocado streets in 1919 (Avocado Street was renamed Chapel Street in 1952).

Post card advertising the Seminole Casino that was opened at the end of Connecticut Street in the 1920s.

That same year Captain Jack DeLysle arrived in Fort Myers and saw the potential in making Estero Island a tourist hot spot. DeLysle was in the British Army during World War I who arrived in the United States sometime in 1920. DeLysle opened the Seminole Sands Casino and dance pavilion on the beach at Connecticut Street. The land boom of the 1920s had begun.

Pirates And Plundering On Estero Island

Wed, 03 Jun 2020 01:38:35 GMT

Pirates And Plundering On Estero Island

Ellie Bunting

Anne and Jack

So it would seem that Captain Rackam and his bride were probably the first white couple to honeymoon on Fort Myers Beach.

Black Augustus

Another pirate story that has been circulating around Fort Myers Beach involves a treasure buried on Black Island. Black Augustus was a Portuguese private who worked with Jose Gaspar (Gasparilla). Black Augustus was not a model citizen: he was a pillager, a torturer, and a fugitive.