Fall/Winter 2021 "Explore" Issue

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the art of T R O P I C A L D I S TA N C I N G ™

ADVERTORIAL

FORCE OF NATURE A PORTRAIT OF PUERTO RICO

TWO DIVERGENT ARTISTS ILLUSTRATE THE NATURAL BRILLIANCE OF PUERTO RICO IN THIS NEW ROLLINS MUSEUM OF ART EXHIBIT. IN SEPTEMBER OF 2017, Puerto Rico was besieged by Mother Nature. As Hurricane Maria roared ashore as a Category 4 storm, the island was deluged with wind and rain, triggering devastating flooding, wiping out the electrical grid and ripping apart roads like strips of paper. The storm was a powerful reminder of the island’s vulnerability to nature’s sometimes violent whims, and it forever changed the people of Puerto Rico, millions of whom were left without power, shelter and basic needs for nearly a year.

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Now, on the fourth anniversary of this defining disaster, the work of two artists with roots in Puerto Rico comes together at the Rollins Museum of Art in Winter Park to tell the story of this resilient island molded by nature. In Growth, Breadth, and Terrain, which will run through Dec. 31, Frances Gallardo and Nathan Budoff examine the relationship between humans and the natural world to reveal a 360-degree view of the complex Caribbean island.

Using media including laser-cut paper and needlework, Frances

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Gallardo portrays natural phenomena in the Caribbean. Growing up in San Juan, Gallardo noticed that the island she lived on was in constant conversation with the meteorological world, but it wasn’t until she moved to New York in her early 20s that she thought to examine these events from a satellite view. With newfound distance from her childhood home, Gallardo began poring over infrared images of hurricanes and using them as inspiration to carve delicate, lace-like portraits of the swirling spectacles from paper. Ten pieces from Gallardo’s Hurricane series will appear as part of the Growth, Breadth, and Terrain exhibit at the Rollins Museum of Art. “What I love about that series, too, is that the idea behind all those little portraits of the hurricanes is that they try to convey that sense of the particularity of a hurricane,” she says. “You’ll be able to see the differences in texture, technique, even contour, and that will hopefully underline that whole play with how every single hurricane is different.”

Not only hurricanes have captured Gallardo’s artistic eye.

Numerous other environmental marvels that can be viewed from above, like the Saharan Air Layer and the movement patterns of mosquitoes, are present in her work Murmuration, at the exhibit.

While Gallardo’s work takes an abstract, aerial approach to Puerto Rico’s environmental wonders, artist Nathan Budoff zooms in on the island’s signature streetscapes and cities, often incorporating vibrant wildlife in unexpected places.

“There’s one part of it that’s just intuitive. It’s fun, it’s playful, it’s trying to enjoy the idea of the richness and variety of the world and think about how things could interact in some imaginary possible future,” Budoff says. “But also there’s a point of trying to bring more visibility to natural life.”

Originally from Massachusetts, Budoff has called Puerto Rico home for more than 25 years, and it frequently serves as the backdrop for his fantastical compositions. Always one to buck the natural order of things, Budoff regularly features wildlife intermingling with other creatures or spaces that are atypical in his work. In Cosmic Love, two vivid red octopuses dance above skyscrapers and powerlines.

While his artwork has an air of whimsy about it, he hopes that the bright colors and unusual pairing of animals and landscapes prompt viewers to consider the environment around them and how they care for it.

Each artist’s work offers an unusual look at their shared home, but when brought together, their art spurs a meaningful dialogue about the environmental, social and political forces at play in Puerto Rico.

“I think they’re really looking at this relationship between human and nature, and what are the implications here if we think about our relationship from a different perspective,” says Gisela Carbonell, curator at the Rollins Museum of Art. Perhaps no other piece embodies this dialogue better than the one these artists worked on together during the pandemic. For

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more than a year, they mailed a large canvas back and forth from Gallardo’s studio in Ithaca, New York, to Budoff’s studio in San Juan. Upon arrival, each artist would add a new element to the canvas—bees from Budoff, drawings from Gallardo. Finally, it was mailed to the Rollins Museum of Art, where it will make its debut in the Growth, Breadth, and Terrain exhibit. An oversized letter between artists about the ever-changing island they’ve both called home. rollins.edu/rma THIS PAGE: NATHAN BUDOFF (AMERICAN, B. 1962) COSMIC LOVE, 2017, OIL AND SHELLACBASED INK ON CANVAS, LENT BY ARTIST © NATHAN BUDOFF; OPPOSITE PAGE: CLOCKWISE TOP LEFT TO RIGHT: FRANCES GALLARDO (PUERTO RICAN, B. 1984) LUIS, 2012, CUT PAPER, COLLAGE, COURTESY OF THE ARTIST © FRANCES GALLARDO; NATHAN BUDOFF, RISING WATER, 2020, MIXED MEDIA ON CANVAS, LENT BY ANTHONY J. MURRARY AND ROSABEL PARALITICCI © NATHAN BUDOFF; FRANCES GALLARDO (PUERTO RICAN, B. 1984), MURMURATION (MOSQUITO CLOUD), 2017, INSTALLATION OF LASER-CUT PAPER PINNED ON WALL, COURTESY OF THE ARTIST © FRANCES GALLARDO, FRANCES GALLARDO, CARMEN, 2011, CUT PAPER, COLLAGE, PRIVATE COLLECTION, MIAMI, FL © FRANCES GALLARDO

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— fall / Wi nte r 2021 —

CONTENTS F E AT U R E S

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56

66

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EXPLORE FLORIDA

GUNPOWDER & GLAMPING

THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

SHOT IN THE DARK

COWBOY COUNTRY

A Wild West adventure at a Central Florida dude ranch turns this writer’s idea of an ideal vacation on its head—and bucks her out of her comfort zone. Saddle up and head south for her great glamping getaway.

Once the Gateway to Florida, the old Dixie Highway is now mired in controversy and mostly replaced.

Journey down this storied street to visit the towns it left behind and how its history is being rewritten.

BY ERIC BARTON & JESSICA GILES

Tear through North Florida mud bogs, skirt the Emerald Coast in a seaplane and dip your paddle into a bioluminescent bay when you set out to explore every inch of the Sunshine State and some places you never knew existed.

BY JESSICA GILES

Cover Photography by

BY MONI BASU

B Y S T E V E D O L LA R

The humble shotgun homes that still stand in Apalachicola represent a rich Black history of the region that’s easily erased.

With a mess of red tape and pricey renovations, saving these shotguns will take more than hammers and nails.

BY CRAIG PITTMAN PHOTOGRAHY BY C A R LT O N WA R D J R .

What’s Texas? The Sunshine State is the real birthplace of the American cowboy, and they’re not just in the business of bovines.

These modern-day cowboys are on the front lines of keeping Florida green.

Carlton Ward. Jr.

On the cover: Continuing five centuries of Florida tradition, Bobby Yates begins another day in the saddle as he and his cracker cow dogs slice the morning twilight at the Seminole Tribe of Florida’s Brighton Ranch in Glades County.

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D E PA R T M E N TS

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WADING IN

COLUMNS

ON THE FLY

19 /// THE SPREAD: Florida’s favorite fruits also happen to be the perfect complement to any cocktail.

41 /// C APITAL DAME: Forget Florida Man. These are the Florida women you ought to know.

22 /// M ADE IN FLA: Marissa Williams refurbishes long-lost lures and cleans up shores.

94 /// PANHANDLING: A lifelong explorer looks back on her fearless, and sometimes shameless, pursuits.

26 /// T HE STUDIO: A photographer races to capture Florida’s flood zones.

28 /// O NE-ON-ONE: Miami native Aaron Dominguez lands the role of a lifetime in Only Murders in the Building.

32 /// FLEDGLINGS: This group of folksy friends brings a smile to every face from the first beat.

98 /// BIRD’S-EYE VIEW: Where to wine, dine and cast a line in Tallahassee 100 /// G ROVE STAND: An Orlando chef finishes what his mother started.

106 /// THE ROOST: Opulent oceanfront homes we’re dying to party in

114 /// F LORIDA WILD: Carlton Ward Jr. gets a lucky shot on a boat ride home from Boca Grande.

110 /// DESIGN DISTRICT: How Fernando Wong became a topiary titan 117 /// T HE TIDE: From the Great American Race to the Fellsmere Frog Leg Festival, fill up your fall calendar with these uniquely Florida affairs.

120 /// F LORIDIANA: The next chapter for the state’s last remaining juke joint

35 /// JUST HATCHED: Immersive art galleries, secret speakeasies and a bar dedicated to Don Bailey

On this spread: Kristina, left, and Jessica Giles recline by the fire pit at Westgate River Ranch Resort & Rodeo.

Photography by MARY BETH KOETH Clothing by Penelope T Hair and makeup by Jesus Bravo

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EDITOR’S NOTE

Permission to party

the origins of its controversial name in Moni Basu’s feature, “The Road Less Traveled.” We rope and ride with some of the state’s long-standing cattle ranchers to understand how they are keeping Florida green and wild in Craig Pittman’s story, “Cowboy Country,” featuring photography by Carlton Ward Jr. We lift off in a hot air balloon to sail over the old phosphate mines of Central Florida and go mudding through Ocala National Forest in our adventure roundup, “Explore Florida.” Then we saddle up for a girls’ glamping weekend with deputy editor Jessica Giles in her travel feature, “Gunpowder and Glamping.”

In addition, Diane Roberts introduces us to some of Florida’s most formidable females in her Capital Dame column, and Prissy Elrod will have you laughing so hard you just might pee your pants reading her latest Panhandling essay. We also eat, shop and dance our way across the state with a fresh lineup of music, art, architecture, food, events and brand new places to try.

As you dive into the pages of Flamingo’s volume 19, dog-earing the feature story you need to share with a friend or the dish you’d like to make or the hot air balloon trip you’re dying to book, don’t fight the urge to mix a citrus cocktail and help us string up the proverbial lights in honor of this print edition (and all of the ones that came before it). Despite my aversion to holiday overkill, there are some milestones that simply demand a little excess. So let’s raise a glass (or two) to exploring Florida and celebrating Flamingo’s fifth anniversary all year long! You have my permission.

And with that, it’s time for me to make a trip up to the attic.

E di tor i n Chi ef & P ubl i sh e r

let us know what you think. Email me at jamie@flamingomag.com

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MARY BETH KOETH

E

very September, when pumpkin-spiced everything takes over the nation, my 10-year-old daughter Audrey starts begging me to go into the attic and bring down the Spooky Town village, 15 adorable zombie-filled horror houses that sing and whirl, a collection we started buying at Michael’s in 2007 when our oldest daughter Elle was just one. As much as I love Halloween, I don’t want to see or hear a haunted carousel spinning and groaning outside the month of October. And, please, no one better so much as even light a Christmas candle in our house before Thanksgiving has fully come and gone— generally not until after the first weekend in December, when Elle has blown out the last birthday candle on her cake. Then, and only then, can the garland go up.

Don’t get me wrong: We like to go all-out with holiday festivities at the Rich house. But to me, overlapping events and celebrating for too long dull the shine of each holiday. There’s also the anticipation and real satisfaction of taking down all that cheer.

We have a similar tradition with each print issue of Flamingo. We celebrate the content—the pages adorn our office wall like a giant piece of art for three months—and then relish in ripping them down to start over with a new crop of stories. Most recently, our officemate’s 9-year-old son tore down all 200 pages of the Anniversary issue content with gusto in about 10 seconds flat. Pure joy. And a clean slate.

It was time, though, for the next Sunshine State celebration, one dedicated to exploring this place’s great outdoors, hidden gems and untold stories. In this edition, we tear up a few backroads discovering some of Florida’s most unlikely destinations. We wind down a famous brick highway and contemplate

ADVERTORIAL

M E E T

T H E

R E A L

Saint Nick

Amelia Island’s annual Victorian-themed holiday celebration, Dickens on Centre, returns with a Saint Nick who can make anyone a believer. characters, seasonal art and wares, and a riverfront city draped in holiday lights.

As part of this year’s festival, a 10-day culinary showcase unfolds from Dec. 3–12, during which local restaurants will feature Dickens-themed prix fixe dinners and menus inspired

by Victorian-era foods. The festival’s Dickens Illuminated Procession returns Dec. 9, encouraging attendees to bring anything that glows or twinkles as they take a stroll through the city and stay for the fireworks afterward. Then, on Dec. 11, an adult party, Dickens After Dark, features a historical ghost tour, entertainment, food and drink.

As it does every year, Dickens on Centre includes lots of events for the kids, including storytelling, games, a Parade of Paws and a holiday craft area in Tiny Tim’s Kid Zone, which includes a spot to write letters to St. Nick.

Those letters may not need to go far, considering Foss will be nearby. Now 74 years old, Foss ­— Santa Foss grew up in Attleboro, Massachusetts, and moved to Florida in 1985.

After serving for four years in Vietnam, he’s been a “jack of all trades,” including working as a longshore fisherman and owning an assisted living facility. Foss was working for UPS years ago when he got injured, and while he was out, he grew a beard that had people telling him he looked like St. Nick. He already had an outfit from the time he wore it for his family, and so he started breaking it out for appearances around the Jacksonville area.

Nowadays, he does it in large part for the expressions he sees on the kids’ faces as they approach him. When he’s wandering around Dickens on Centre, he’ll see children from a distance, their eyes widening as they get close.

Sometimes they’ll ask him if St. Nick is real or about the kids at school who’ve told them it’s a lie. He tells them: “Santa Claus is real in the hearts and minds of a lot of people. Some people say there’s no real Santa Claus, but I say, ‘Well, if you believe in Santa Claus, he’s real, no matter what people say to you.’”

In between appearances at Dickens on Centre, Foss says he’ll be in a restaurant or store and notice a child pointing to him.

Foss will gift them a holiday book that he signs on the spot.

“I don’t wear a suit a lot of times, but I’m basically Santa Claus all the time,” he says. “All year long I have people tell me, ‘You should be Santa Claus,’ and I tell them, ‘I am Santa Claus.’”

Book your stay to enjoy the festival and meet the real St. Nick. ameliaisland.com/holiday

,

“Well, if you believe in Santa Claus, he’s real, no matter what people say to you.”

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KELLIE BOSTON/BOSTON PHOTOGRAPHY

I

f you spend some time talking with Allan Foss, you’ll start to wonder if he really is St. Nick. It’s not only the rosy cheeks, real white beard and grand presence, but also his delightful stories and jolly demeanor.

There’s also the fact that, all year long, when people ask him if he’s the real St. Nick, he’ll say with a wink: “I think you know.”

This year, Foss returns as St. Nick for the seventh-annual Dickens on Centre on Amelia Island. When he’s not patiently listening to the details of every child’s wish list and taking photos with them on his knee, Foss wanders the streets of the festival, pausing for selfies, telling stories about the North Pole and showing anyone who asks photos of Mrs. Claus and his reindeer on his phone. He prides himself on winning over the youngest kids, who are sometimes afraid of old St. Nick.

“I’ve never had a kid who stays afraid of me,” Foss says. “If I have the time, I’ll win them over. The high-five, the old high-five—you start with something easy like that, and the end result is to get them on my lap to take a picture.”

You can find lots of holiday magic at Dickens on Centre from Dec. 9–12, a seasonal tradition that has become a major draw for Amelia Island each year. Inspired

by Charles Dickens’ novel A Christmas Carol, the festival takes over downtown Fernandina Beach, turning the already quaint main street into an English village, and includes a series of themed events.

Expect impromptu carolers, costumed

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CONTRIBUTORS

BILL KEARNEY is a Miami-based editor and journalist whose most recent role was as the editorial director of American Way for American Airlines.

Over the years, he’s penned stories for outlets such as New York Magazine, VinePair, the Miami Herald, Miami New Times and Wallpaper*. In his first story for Flamingo, Kearney profiles outdoorswoman Marissa Williams, who turned her practice of plucking lost lures and fishing line from mangroves into a nonprofit that helps Florida’s wildlife. “Talking to Marissa made me realize how a little effort on my part could really help marine animals,” Kearney says, “and supply me with free fishing lures!”

CARLTON WARD JR. is an eighth-generation Floridian and National Geographic Explorer who uses photography to inspire conservation of his home state. His current National Geographic project, Path of the Panther, is creating an unprecedented glimpse into the life of one of America’s most endangered predators.

Ward is the author of four books, including Florida Cowboys: Keepers of the Last Frontier, a visual deep dive into the state’s ranchers. In this issue of Flamingo, Ward’s photographs tell the story of our state’s cattle ranchers. In addition, his column Florida Wild captures a tender moment between mother and child in the wild.

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BAILEY LEFEVER is a freelance journalist reporting from Tampa Bay. She covers health and education for WUSF, Tampa Bay’s NPR affiliate. She has also covered seniors for the Tampa Bay Times, local government for the Miami Herald and breaking news and community news for the Palm Beach Post. LeFever has reported on the illegal sea turtle trade in Cuba, tennis phenom Coco Gauff and nursing home lockdowns during the pandemic. When not telling stories, LeFever loves to read and take her chocolate Lab for walks. In her Flamingo debut, LeFever writes about artist Anastasia Samoylova, who captures Florida’s vulnerability to climate change through her camera lens.

MONI BASU is a veteran journalist who has worked as a reporter for CNN and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

She now teaches advanced writing classes at the University of Florida and is a distinguished professor of practice in the University of Georgia’s MFA program. Basu covered the Iraq War from its inception and published an e-book, Chaplain Turner’s War (2012, Agate Publishing). Born in India, Basu grew up straddling two cultures, and her work often explores the complexities of identity. In this issue, Basu journeys down the old Dixie Highway to learn the origin of its controversial name and explore the towns it left behind.

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EVERGOLD PHOTOGR APHY, LUISA JIMENEZ, SHE’S THE FIRST UF, VERONICA RUNGE, CNN

JENNA ALEXANDER is a working fine artist and photographer based out of St. Augustine, Florida. While her artwork ranges in subject matter— oysters, botanicals, still lifes, portraits and more—the inspiration behind her work comes from the mundane, grand moments of life. It is with great responsibility that she expresses these observed moments in time through the form of drawing and painting. Her work can be described as warm, impressionistic and calm. In this issue, Alexander uses her skilled hand to recreate the original map of the Dixie Highway in “The Road Less Traveled.” In Capital Dame, Alexander illustrates some of the most influential women in Florida.

It Takes an

ISLAND

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For Floridians. By Floridians.

• FOUNDED IN 2016 •

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C E LE B RATI N G

Since we have so many museums, maybe you can do an article where you spotlight chefs from museums and how they build their menu around the art. I nominate @chuckbandel of @dalimuseum. He’s excellent!

— @frances.raw, St. Petersburg, FL

THE BESTk FLAMINGO

For Floridians. By Floridians.

— Ali D., Winter Park, FL

FOOTBALL FIRSTS: The Florida Gators Exclusive

FEMME FATALE

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FREEDIVING, TARPON FISHING & PANTHER TRACKING ACROSS THE STATE

DISCOVERING THE PERFECTIONk LITTLE PALM ISLAND

and Bungalows, Satellite Beach, FL

Edgewater, FL

MEET q WOMEN HUNTING PYTHONS

FLORIDA DREAM

Oh, yay! Thank you for this book roundup.

I’m not happy unless I have at least one book that I’m losing myself in.

Looking forward to diving into these! — Beaches Bars

Picked up a copy. Great issue with great articles, including the one on Stiltsville!

— Riverside Conservancy,

Who Changed the Game Forever

P LUS

Editor in Chief and Founder JAMIE RICH jamie@flamingomag.com Deputy Editor Jessica Giles jessica@flamingomag.com Consulting Creative Director Holly Keeperman holly@flamingomag.com

SINCE 2016

THE COLLECTOR’S EDITION

My 9-year-old daughter rushed to see the lady python hunters when she saw the cover. She loved it!

EDITORIAL

When I went out on the eco tours with Gabriel Gray it was breathtaking listening to him enjoying nature and all the life it brings. Great article! — Teresa D., St. Augustine, FL

Thank you for featuring Church Mouse Palm Beach in your recent article on finding vintage Lilly Pulitzer finds. As a volunteer at Church Mouse and a subscriber of your amazing magazine, I can attest to your research.

Keep up the good work!

Still poring over the amazing edition. Worth the wait! — @leasaj, Palm Beach, FL

The two toms and the three k’s LE TTERS TO THE EDITOR

Your recent article “A Tale of Two Toms and the Three K’s” dropped me to my knees ... By the way, I am also from Pensacola. I was into scouting as a kid, but not once was I asked to set foot in Wentworth’s museum. Like other Black kids growing up in Pensacola in the ’60s and ’70s, I coded the place as “white”—those spaces around town that no one needed to tell a Black child they were off-limits.

Fantastic article! I also visited T.T. Wentworth for a merit badge and took regular visits to his museum. In 1975, I remember sneaking to my Catholic school (St. Michael’s), which was beside the Confederate monument, on a Saturday to see the Klan march.

Scary! Pensacola is deeeep South!

— Tim D., Jacksonville, FL

— Connie F., Albuquerque, New Mexico

Senior Contributing Designer Ellen Patch ellen@flamingomag.com Contributing Designer Lauren Eggert Senior Writer and Cont ributin g Editor Eric Barton eric@flamingomag.com Cont ributin g Writers Moni Basu, Steve Dollar, Prissy Elrod, Bill Kearney, Bailey LeFever, Alyssa Morlacci, Craig Pittman, Diane Roberts, Nila Do Simon, Carlton Ward Jr. Contributing Photographers & Illustrators Jenna Alexander, Leslie Chalfont, Beth Gilbert, Mary Beth Koeth, Stephen Lomazzo, Libby Volgyes, Mark Wallheiser, Carlton Ward Jr. C op y E d it o rs & Fa c t-C h e c k e rs Katherine Shy, Amanda Price Editorial Fellow Kiera Geraghty

SALES & MARKETING Publisher JAMIE RICH jamie@flamingomag.com Advertising Sales Megan Zebouni megan@flamingomag.com For general inquiries email advertising@flamingomag.com Contact Us JSR Media LLC 13000 Sawgrass Village Circle, Bld. 3, Suite. 12 Ponte Vedra Beach, FL 32082 P: (904) 395-3272 E: info@flamingomag.com All content in this publication, including but not limited to text, photos and graphics, is the sole property of and copyrighted

by JSR Media and Flamingo. Reproduction without permission from the publisher is prohibited. We take no responsibility for images or content provided by our advertisers.

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FLORIDA STATE ARCHIVES; VEC TORSTOCK .COM

I currently reside on the land of the Ais people and honor their history & recognize how European colonization caused an entire people to be killed or displaced. It’s important to learn from our triumphs as well as our atrocities. Thank you for this well-written, researched and heartfelt article by Diane Roberts.

— Casey G., New Smyrna, FL

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THE SLICE P R O D UC TS + EVENTS + PROMOTIONS

4 Ways to Explore This Issue Off the Page 2.WATCH Aaron Dominguez in Only Murders in the Building, streaming on Hulu, and check out our Oneon-One interview with the Miami native on page 28.

1. READ Craig Pittman’s

latest book, The State You’re In: Florida Men, Florida Women, and Other Wildlife, and check out our exclusive interview with the author on flamingomag.com.

to folk-pop band The 502s’ most recent album, Could It Get Better Than This, on Spotify, and read their story on page 32.

4. TOAST to the issue with

a playful pink drink from Odd Birds bar in St. Augustine. Find the recipe on page 21.

COMING SOON:

A PRESENT JUST FOR YOU Need help shopping for the pickiest people in your life? Stay tuned for Flamingo’s ultimate 2021 Holiday Gift Guide, coming mid-November to flamingomag.com. Shop curated home decor, bespoke handbags, handcrafted clothing and more Florida-made finds perfect for stuffing a stocking, wrapping with a bow or gifting to yourself.

F O R T H E L AT E S T H A P P E N I N G S , P H O T O S & V I D E O S , F O L L O W @ T H E F L A M I N G O M A G

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CR AIG PIT TMAN, CR AIG BL ANKENHORN/HULU, THE 502S, ODD BIRDS COCK TAIL LOUNGE & KITCHEN, JESSIE PREZA

3. LISTEN

September 18 – December 31, 2021 TOP ROW FROM LEFT Frances Gallardo (Puerto Rican, b. 1984), Luis, 2012, 30 x 35 in., Cut paper, collage, Courtesy of the artist Frances Gallardo (Puerto Rican, b. 1984), Carmen, 2011, Cut paper, collage, 27.5 x 39.5 in., Private Collection, Miami, FL Frances Gallardo (Puerto Rican, b. 1984), “Aerosoles” series (Sahara Dust), 2021, 11 x 16 in., Color pencil on laser etched paper, Laser etched images on paper of nano scale San Juan dust sample, courtesy of Simge Uzun, Fiber Science Department, College of Human Ecology, Cornell University, Courtesy of the artist Nathan Budoff (American, b. 1962), Even the Smallest Among Us, 2021, Charcoal, shellac-based ink, acrylic and oil on canvas, 64 x 84 in, Lent by the artist Nathan Budoff, Temporal, 2018, Charcoal, shellac-based ink and oil on canvas, 84 x 72 in., Lent by the artist Nathan Budoff (American, b. 1962), The Ghost and the Pain, 2017, Charcoal, acrylic, oil, and shellac-based ink, 76 x 92 in., Anonymous Loan BOTTOM ROW FROM LEFT Frances Gallardo (Puerto Rican, b. 1984), Murmuration (Mosquito cloud) (detail), 2017, 6 ft diameter, Installation of laser cut paper pinned on wall, Courtesy of the artist Nathan Budoff (American, b. 1962), Cosmic Love (detail), 2017, Oil and shellac-based ink, 45 x 24 in., Lent by the artist

FREE ADMISSION/PROGRAMMING FOR 2021 COURTESY OF THE DIRECTOR’S CIRCLE

ROLLINS.EDU/RMA

— Flor idians, far e, f inds —

WADING IN — The Spread —

Why citru s is t he pe r f e c t c oc kt ai l c om pani on

— MADE IN FLA —

C lean i ng s hor e s & s e l l i ng l ur e s

— the studio —

O ne w oma n ’s q ue s t t o phot ogr aph a s i nki ng s t at e

— one-on-one —

How this Miamian m ade hi s way t o t he bi g s c r e e n

— fledglings —

Try n ot to smi l e at t hi s gr oup of f ol ks y f r i e nds

— Just Hatched —

LIBBY VOLGYES

T he new est spot s t o s e e and be s e e n t hi s wi nt e r

This page: Florida-grown grapefruit helps

make the perfect seasonal sipper.

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ADVERTORIAL

Mellencamp Redux

A new winter exhibit at The Museum of Art - DeLand showcases a different side of musician John Mellencamp’s talent with a poignant collection of layered paintings and assemblages.

PHOTOS COURTESY OF MUSEUM OF ART - DEL AND

J

OHN MELLENCAMP has spent just about as many years perfecting the art of portraiture as he has cranking out heartland rock hits. For decades, the lyricist has entertained millions with music that’s reached listeners’ inner consciences through examinations of society, culture and the struggles of youth.

Perhaps lesser known is his ability to do this with paint on a canvas, striking a sharper tone with tougher social justice commentary folded into the layers of his latest works.

Come this winter, Floridians can experience some of Mellencamp’s art firsthand during a solo exhibition, John Mellencamp: Paintings and Assemblages, at The Museum of Art DeLand.

Mellencamp, 70, lives in Bloomington, Indiana, and is currently working on the release of his 25th album, for which he debuted a sample of the song “I Always Lie to Strangers,” earlier this year. Taking a tone similar to that of his pensive new album are his oil paintings, for which he enlists a moody

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color palette and unsmiling subjects who portray sunken eyes and haunting stares.

Mellencamp, who is of German descent, is drawn to a style consistent with early 20thcentury German expressionism, which he taps into to manifest his artistic interpretation of both beauty and pain.

One piece Pattie Pardee, executive director at The Museum of Art - DeLand, hopes to exhibit in the upcoming show is Mellencamp’s 2020 oil painting Strange Fruit II. Inspired by the 1939 Billie Holiday song that compares lynched slaves to the fruit of trees, Mellencamp’s canvas depicts George Floyd standing next to a skeletal man who has been hanged.

“Seven years ago the Museum of Art DeLand presented one of John Mellencamp’s first museum shows, and it remains one of the most well-attended in our 70-plus-year history,” Pardee says. “Fan curiosity may have driven numbers initially, but his undeniable artistic proficiency created new audiences for his paintings.”

Mellencamp started painting at a young

age and received his formal training at the Arts Student League of New York. During the late ’80s, Mellencamp turned his attention to visual arts as a way to get out of the public eye and spend more time alone.

“There’s nothing closer to heaven than painting,” Mellencamp once told The Guardian. He never intended to share his artwork with anyone, that is until his friend Bob Dylan—who also has a penchant for painting—encouraged him to display his work in museums and galleries.

During his upcoming solo exhibition, which runs from Jan. 14 through March 27, Floridians can travel to the charming town of DeLand, situated between Orlando and Daytona, to see the artist’s latest collection.

No matter the medium—lyrics set to music or paint brushed onto a canvas—it’s always been Mellencamp’s mission to hold a mirror up to society. moartdeland.org

ABOVE FROM LEFT: JOHN MELLENCAMP: CARNIE, 2020, OIL ON CANVAS; THE STARDUST SISTERS, 2013, MIXED MEDIA ON CANVAS; NOT AFRAID TO FIGHT, 2020, OIL ON CANVAS

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WADING IN :THE SPREAD FLOR IDA-F R ESH BITES & BEVS FLOR IDA-F R ESH BITES & BEVS

By J e s s i ca G i l es • P h o t o g ra p h y b y L i b b y Vo l g y es

Pucker UP

A splash of citrus is all you need to level up your libations

F

rom the delicate orange twist that garnishes an Old-Fashioned to the lime juice that takes center stage in a poolside mojito, it’s nearly impossible to serve up any classic cocktail without the help of the citrus family.

“Citrus is one of the key ingredients in the foundation of a cocktail,” says Matthew Du Parcq, a bartender at Odd Birds Cocktail Lounge in St. Augustine. “It is

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essential to balance the flavor profile and make sure your drink isn’t too sweet.”

These fragrant fruits have been lending their tartness to adult beverages since the mid-1700s, when British sailors added a dash of lime juice to their rum to fight off scurvy and, incidentally, created the earliest version of the daiquiri.

Nowadays, these concoctions have gotten a smidge

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WADING IN :THE SPREAD FLO RIDA-F R ESH BITES & BEVS

more advanced, but even the most novice of mixologists can find a way to incorporate citrus in their glasses.

The first step to making a superb citrus cocktail begins before the first ounce of alcohol is poured—and requires a little work on your end. Although it may be tempting to buy a bottle of orange juice and call it a day, freshly squeezed citrus juice instantly elevates the flavor of a cocktail. No matter how busy the bar is at Odd Birds, the bartenders juice every single lemon, lime, orange and grapefruit used in their beverages by hand.

“We find that we can build an amazing cocktail by going back to the basics and keeping everything simple and organic,” says Carissa Corpuz, an Odd Birds bartender.

“That extra time that goes into juicing makes all the difference in the taste of a cocktail.”

The longer citrus juice sits after being squeezed, the more bitter it becomes, and while that may be just right for a Negroni, it can throw off the taste of a libation that’s meant to be a little more smooth than sour.

With more than 74 million citrus trees in the Sunshine State, Floridians have even fewer reasons to skip the squeeze—especially in winter, when these fruits are ripe for the picking. While lemons, limes and grapefruits often get all the glory, there are a few lesserknown relatives in the citrus family that also add a little character to a cocktail.

Hemingway Daiquiri 2 ounces Diplomatico Planas rum 1/2 ounce grapefruit juice 3/4 ounce lime juice 1/2 ounce Luxardo maraschino liqueur Lime (for garnish) Above: A Hemingway Daiquiri

leans heavily on the flavors of grapefruit and lime.

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PREPARATION: Add all the liquids to a cocktail shaker. Fill with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into a chilled coupe glass.

Garnish with lime or fruit of choice.

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Above: The Bird Spritz

from Odd Birds

“Blood orange, tangerine and kumquat sour, which calls on egg whites to cut the are some more unique citrus fruits that can libation’s bitterness. really enhance a cocktail,” Du At Odd Birds, the fanParcq says. All three of these favorite citrus sipper is the Bird unconventional mixers can be Spritz, a fanciful fusion of two ODD BIRDS found growing right here in types of gin, Martini Fiero (to COCKTAIL LOUNGE & Florida, so it’s worth scouring give it a whimsical pink hue), KITCHEN the local farmers market for fresh grapefruit and lime juices and — LOCATION — beverage bounty. a housemade syrup. But the 200 ANASTASIA BLVD. ST. AUGUSTINE Start small by substituting truth is, citrus graces most oddbirdsbar.com tangerine in recipes that call for every glass at the Ancient City orange juice, or add a twist to the haunt, whether it’s the main traditional martini and incorporate ingredient or a simple garnish, fresh kumquat. Nail down the basics with because there are few drinks that the a classic paloma, which leans heavily on lip-puckering produce doesn’t make just grapefruit, or level up with a gin Campari a hint better.

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Bird Spritz 1 3/4 ounces Fords Gin

ounce Mahon Gin 1/2 ounce Martini Fiero 1/2 ounce grapefruit juice 1/2 ounce lime juice 3/4

ounce cardamom-lemongrass syrup Soda water Grapefruit (for garnish) Rosemary (for garnish) 3/4

PREPARATION: Add the first six ingredients to a cocktail shaker. Fill with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into a balloon glass and top with soda water and extra ice as needed. Garnish with a grapefruit slice and rosemary sprig.

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WADING IN :MADE IN FLA B y B i l l K ea rn ey

LURE LUSTER How Marissa Williams cleans up the coast and transforms hundreds of trashed lures into treasures

This page: Marissa

Williams began cleaning up discarded fishing line and lures as a hobby.

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M

NICK DAVIS

arissa Williams was on her daily paddleboard excursion six years ago in Sanibel Island’s J.N. “Ding” Darling National Wildlife Refuge when she noticed that the mangrove shoreline was festooned with fishing lures and line. Frustrated with the litter, she started plucking it out of the bushes, piling up fishing line, braided line, hooks and plugs on her board. Over the months, the litter collecting became a casual habit, but one day, as she followed a length of fishing line deeper into the mangroves, it led her to a tangled ibis skeleton.

“The thought of that animal caught there with no way out made me angry. How could someone just leave all that stray line out there?” she says.

Williams made cleaning up that 100-foot stretch of shoreline her mission. She returned for the next five days, extracting line and a total of 173 rather expensive lures. But on the last day, something shocked her: There were more lures in a section she had cleared the previous day.

“I just couldn’t believe it. I thought, ‘Okay, somebody needs to make a difference.’”

Later, when she posted photos of the lures on social media, folks offered to buy them, and she came up with a plan. She’d refurbish them with new split rings and hooks, sell them and donate the proceeds to environmental charities.

“I didn’t want to give the money to a big national charity. I wanted the impact in my backyard,” she says. Among others, she’s donated to Captains For Clean Water, which fights to restore the Everglades and limit toxic discharges from Lake Okeechobee; the Sanibel-Captiva

Conservation Foundation; Sanibel’s Clinic for the Rehabilitation of Wildlife; and Juno Beach’s Loggerhead Marinelife Center, which rehabilitates sea turtles.

Her customers are often parents buying packs of lures for their kids.

“They want to tell their kids that story,” she says. Though Williams founded her shop, Salt Collins Lures, in Sanibel Island, she has since moved to Stuart and continues to collect trash and lures from the shoreline wherever she paddles or fishes. And she’s still finding plenty of motivation.

“One day we found five pelicans on the same shoreline. Two were dead and three still had a hook and line on them,” she says. During another incident, she was pulling line from a tree and the line took off.

“I thought, what the heck could this be? Is it a fish? It was a pelican in a tree a couple hundred yards down.

There was that much line out,” she recalls. Williams has also seen stone crabs wrapped up in braided line and lures snagged on mangrove roots with fish stuck to them.

Most fellow anglers are happy to see her making a difference, but she recently had one fisherman motor up and tell her not to touch a section of shoreline.

“Dude, you just got here.

I’m just trying to clean up, and I’ll get out of your hair,” she said to him. “He was like, ‘I’m just trying to fish.’ I was like, ‘This is me not giving a fuck.

Thank you.’”

Williams, 37, grew up in Jupiter, but

Right: Marissa Williams collected more

than 170 stray lures over the course of five days on a 100-foot stretch of shoreline.

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WADING IN :MADE IN FLA went to several different and I have to keep an eye on you. So, we’re schools up and down going to wake up at 5 a.m. and go fishing.’” the Eastern Seaboard as She surfed Juno Beach and Jupiter as a her parents teen and went on to study math navigated their at Florida Atlantic University and divorce. Though SALT COLLINS biomedical engineering at the her upbringing was University of Pittsburgh.

LURES nomadic, being on the “When I was done, I did not care FOLLOW ON INSTAGRAM water was a constant. if I had a job or not,” she says. “I @saltcollinslures “One of the first things was like, ‘It’s cold, I need to leave.’ I SHOP REFURBISHED LURES, HOLIDAY ORNAMENTS my mom did was put me ended up moving to Sanibel Island.” & NAUTICAL ACCENTS in the pool out back. There It was there that she picked up are pictures of me swimming fly-fishing when she was 35. She now lures.saltcollins.com around looking like the baby on has 10,600 followers on Instagram, the Nirvana album cover. And where she posts images of her lure both my dad and my stepdad finds, her far-flung fishing adventures liked fishing. When I was little, I thought and her latest drone photography. She’s recently of it as a punishment—‘You messed up, spied manta rays, sawfish, leatherback turtles,

hammerhead sharks and even an albino green turtle off Stuart.

She finds the amount of sea life both astounding and motivating.

“We have to take care of what we enjoy,” she says. “We enjoy being on the water, we enjoy fishing, we enjoy healthy fish, but that doesn’t just happen. Those sharks, those manta rays and tarpon are all local creatures. What we do makes an impact on them. And if we want to keep enjoying them, let’s think about that whenever we’re on the water. Go pick up trash even if it’s not yours. You’ll make a difference, and you’ll feel better about it.”

NICK DAVIS

Below: Marissa Williams donates a portion of the profits from her refurbished lures to local organizations.

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WADING IN :THE STUDIO FLORIDA ARTIST PROFILES B y B a i l ey L eF ev er

POLISH and Peril A Florida newcomer falls in love with her adopted home as she photographs its vulnerabilities

Above: The Tea Room, Vizcaya, 2018; Gator, 2017 Below: Anastasia Samoylova Right: Flamingo Reflection, 2018

A

nastasia Samoylova first encountered Florida the way countless people do: on a cruise stopover back in 2008.

When the Russian artist disembarked onto the glitzy shores of Miami Beach, her eyes were immediately drawn to the city’s vibrant atmosphere, from the long pink sidewalk framing the beach to the striking art deco buildings dusted in turquoise hues.

She let her lens lead the way down Ocean Drive, dotted with boutique hotels, and along Lincoln Road, with its mishmash of retro theaters and bustling shopping districts.

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“I remember having a very visceral response to Miami Beach,” Samoylova says. “Something strong was clicking. It resonated with me. ... I thought it was just this small jewel.”

After completing her degree in environmental design in Russia, Samoylova moved to the United States to pursue her MFA at Bradley University in Illinois.

She spent five years teaching art and photography in the Prairie State and Massachusetts while she worked on her own photography, paintings and installations on the side.

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In 2016, Samoylova decided she was ready to dedicate all of her time to her art. An artist’s residency at the Fountainhead Studios provided an opportunity to return to Miami to dive into Florida’s complexities. Now she devotes her days to documenting the state’s idiosyncrasies on camera. The keen composition and layered nature of her images reveal an eye for Florida that could only belong to a local. A since-closed movie theater boarded up with slabs of plywood in Pahokee. Striking former

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ANASTASIA SAMOYLOVA , ROSE MARIE CROMWELL

cult quarters in Estero. Vizcaya Museum and Gardens’s tiles submerged in sitting water.

Samoylova’s first project inspired by her time in Florida, FloodZone, documents the effect of rising sea levels on the state’s delicate landscape of high-rises and beach towns. With her background in environmental issues, Samoylova was struck

by Miami’s vulnerability to climate change and its inevitable impact.

But it wasn’t until the artist learned she lived in a flood zone that she decided to capture the phenomenon through photographs.

Soon, the project grew into documenting how Florida’s glossy, postcard-esque facade and its environmental perils coincide. In one image, reflections of light shimmer on the stagnant surface of a decrepit fountain at a hurricane shelter in Miami Beach. In another, an aquamarine pool is clogged with greenery post-hurricane. It was this series that earned her a finalist spot for the 2021 Florida Prize in Contemporary Art. Photographing Florida’s rapidly intruding floods can be depressing, she admits, but her work isn’t intended to make people feel a certain way. Instead, she hopes her art prompts reflection on climate change.

“I see [Florida] as having a lot of potential,” Samoylova says. In a state on the front lines of the fight against global warming, there’s also an opportunity for Floridians to act as leaders in the climate emergency. “There’s a hope that [Florida] will come up with solutions as well,” she says.

Samoylova has been a Floridian for five years now, and her work has brought her to all corners of the state. One of her other series, entitled “Floridas,” looks at her new home through her eyes as an outsider, and now, as an insider.

“Simplifying Florida doesn’t do it justice,” she explains. “At the same time you can’t deny quite a large number of absurdities here that don’t really match up. ... I am mainly curious and engaged with some more monumental and long-term expressions of culture and of the people who inhabit these places.”

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That’s how she found and photographed the Van Gogh Starry Night house while passing through Mount Dora. She read that the owners painted it with swirls of blue and yellow so their autistic son could always find his way back home. Samoylova was impressed by their perseverance in keeping the home colorful, even after the city tried to make them repaint.

From abandoned dome houses being swallowed by the sea to scruffy locals sporting “No Mercy” tattoos, the camera has taken Samoylova all over the Sunshine State—and

brought her closer to it in the process.

“I love living here,” she says. “There’s a complaint, especially about Miami, that it doesn’t have any identity beyond being this sort of subject of jokes and how it’s all superficial. But it’s so much more than that.”

It’s a truth Samoylova noticed back in 2008 on that cruise stopover in Miami, and it’s one she seems to understand more deeply with every shutter of her lens.

See more of Samoylova’s work on her website: anasamoylova.com.

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WADING IN :ONE-ON-ONE CO N VE RSATIONS, INTERVIEWS, STOR IES B y J a m i e R i ch

Fresh Face Aaron Dominguez on his breakout role in Only Murders in the Building, growing up in Miami and costarring with Hollywood legends

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as it the “tie-dye guy,” with the knitting needle, in the stairwell? Don’t worry, we won’t spoil it for you, but what we can say about Hulu’s latest binge-worthy series, Only Murders in the Building, is that there are plenty of unexpected plot twists, laughs and one very talented Floridian to keep you tuning in till the very end. In his Hulu debut, Aaron Dominguez plays the hoodie-wearing Oscar—a childhood friend of Mabel, played by Selena Gomez. Dominguez costars alongside Gomez, Steve Martin and Martin Short in the mystery-comedy series, which premiered this summer and follows the antics of the main characters as they become obsessed with creating a true-crime podcast and solving a murder in their New York City apartment building. Dominguez, 27, is a fresh face in Hollywood, but no stranger to life in show business. His parents immigrated to Miami from Venezuela in the early ’90s, working as professional dancers, singers and actors and even launching their own theater company. Dominguez and his two siblings grew up on stages alongside them, soaking up their parents’ work ethic and passion for the arts. However, life wasn’t always easy in South Florida, and his parents moved the family to the suburbs of Atlanta, where Dominguez says he struggled with culture shock before embracing the move as “life-changing.” We recently caught up with Dominguez to talk about his early years in Miami, what it means to be “famous” and that time Martin Short brought him to tears on set.

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This page: Aaron Dominguez stars in Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building.

Opposite: Dominguez

with his mom Blanca, sister Raquel, father Nicolás and brother Stephano, honored for their contributions to the Atlanta arts community in 2017

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TELL ME A LITTLE BIT ABOUT YOUR UPBRINGING IN FLORIDA.

AD: My parents both met in theater school in Venezuela, where they’re from, and moved to Miami in ’92. When they got there, my brother was 10 months old, and my sister was born not too long after, and then I came along in ’94. Both my parents were professionals in the field. When it came to acting, my dad was a professional ballet and jazz dancer. He had lots of fun in the ’80s. He toured with Janet Jackson. Then my mother was a singer-songwriter and actress. My parents were very much involved in the arts in Miami, from telenovelas and Spanish soap operas to Spanish theater.

WHAT WAS IT LIKE GROWING UP IN SUCH AN ARTISTIC FAMILY?

AD: So, my first taste of all that was watching my parents and falling in love with theater. My dad was my hero growing up, so getting to watch him not only perform and act on stage but dance as well alongside my mother, and watching my mother sing, and watching them do musical theater as a kid, it was a thrill.

WHAT WAS IT LIKE FOR YOUR PARENTS TO IMMIGRATE TO MIAMI?

AD: We first lived in Little Havana, and then from there moved to Miami Lakes. It wasn’t always super easy. We were working-class.

I’m the son of two immigrant parents who came to better themselves in this country.

So it’s not like my parents got to Miami and things just started flourishing. [My dad] worked every job you could ever think of, from construction work to fast food to security jobs. There was a little window in my life where I remember not seeing my dad a lot because he was working so much.

ELLIOT LISS, COURTESY A ARON DOMINGUEZ, CR AIG BL ANKENHORN/HULU

YOUR FAMILY WAS SO INVOLVED IN MIAMI’S ARTS COMMUNITY. WHY LEAVE? AD: There were times where we all kind of felt stuck. One of the reasons we moved to Georgia was because my brother was starting ninth grade, and this high school he was supposed to go to was called American [Senior] High. American High School Miami

Above: Dominguez with his Only Murders in the Building costar Selena Gomez

Lakes is notorious for being a not-very-good high school. I mean, you know, problems every other day—drugs and all these different things. We would drive by there often because it was probably a mile from the house. My dad would always stay looking at the high school, whether there was a news station there or the police. My dad would look at the high school while he was driving, and he’d be like, “There’s no way my kids are going to this school.”

YOU WERE 12 WHEN YOU MOVED TO ATLANTA. HOW DID THAT IMPACT YOU?

AD: Getting to Atlanta was a huge culture shock for me. Miami was a melting pot. I mean, you had Latinos, you had AfricanAmericans, you had white, you had Asian, all walks of life. So, when we got to KennesawMarietta, I felt like a misfit. I was like, “No one here looks like me, and no one dresses like me.” I just, I remember not being happy moving. And I couldn’t see what my parents were trying to do. My first day of seventh grade, there was a kid that walked up to me and said, “Do you speak Mexican?” And I was like, “What?” And then he proceeded to say it again. He didn’t finish the sentence the second time.

HOW DID THAT INCIDENT GO OVER WITH YOUR PARENTS?

AD: On the car ride home, my dad said something like, “Oh, you’re back right where you started.” And I remember crying just

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because I was emotionally frustrated.

I was like, “You don’t understand. This isn’t what I thought it was gonna be like.

And my dad was like, “You’re not gonna understand now, but you will later.

Everything I do, I do for you guys.”

There was never a dull moment, constant jokes the entire time. I was clearly the actor that was always breaking character.

—A A R O N D O M I N G U E Z DO YOU HAVE A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE NOW?

AD: Now? It changed my life. It truly did.

And I’ll never take it for granted.

DID YOU ALWAYS WANT TO BE AN ACTOR?

AD: For a long time, pursuing acting full time scared me because of the inconsistency that I saw financially in my family growing up. There was

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a tug-of-war within me. As involved as I was with my parents’ theater company, doing theater at school, doing musicals or plays in the local area of Marietta, and with my siblings being involved with it—we were known as the Dominguez clan—I think within all of us there was a fear of the unknown. Although my parents, financially, were doing much, much better in Georgia, I just always thought back to Miami.

Sometimes we were doing well, and other times the lights were off, and the hot water wasn’t running.

WAS IT CHALLENGING TO PURSUE ACTING FULL TIME? Above from left: Steve Martin, Martin Short, Selena Gomez and Aaron

Dominguez filming Only Murders in the Building

AD: I worked every job you could ever think of. I worked in fashion. I worked in retail. I

worked for a logistics corporate company. I even worked construction for a while. There was a moment when I think [my dad] was frustrated from seeing the potential that I had or maybe I just wasn’t dedicated enough. My dad and I started going back and forth. At the time, I was always telling him, “You have no idea.

The industry has changed a lot since you were in it. It’s not just show up at this casting office and give your headshot.” I think this was 2015. My dad looked at me and he said, “That’s the thing with you, you don’t want it bad enough. … Do you want to be famous? Or do you want to work? Because if you want to be famous, just get naked and run across the street.

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(561) 414-2091 (904) 515-5959

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WADING IN :ONE-ON-ONE

WADING IN :ONE-ON-ONE Eventually the cameras will show up, and you can get fame that way. But if you want to work, trust me. I know how hard it is to make it in this type of industry.” I think that kind of ignited something within me.

got to give sooner or later. I always say that the job is not mine until I see the final product. So not even shooting it, not even getting the job, it’s until I actually see the final product on screen.

YOU HAVE SOME IMPRESSIVE CREDITS AND FILMS TO YOUR NAME, BUT IS ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING YOUR BIG BREAK?

AD: I think we’ve got a hit show on our hands. It’s hard not to be biased for the show that you’re a part of, but I’ve gone into watching the episodes being like, I’m not going to laugh because I know these guys or I had fun in the scene, but I’ve actually genuinely laughed.

none. There was never a dull moment, constant jokes the entire time. I was clearly the actor that was always breaking character. I kid you not, Marty kept doing this bit that wasn’t even a part of the script. And I think I broke 12 times in a row because everybody behind the camera was laughing too, and at one point our writer, John Hoffman, comes on. He goes, “Aaron,” and he’s in tears, “come on.” And I was like “Yeah, I’m trying. … Look at you, you’re crying, you get it.” And I looked at Marty, and I was like, “You’re thriving off of this.” But yeah, it was amazing.

WHAT WAS IT LIKE WORKING WITH SUCH AN ALL-STAR CAST?

I’M SURE IT’S AN EXCITING TIME FOR YOU NOW, BUT WHAT’S NEXT?

AD: It is 100 percent. I remember when I got the initial audition for this show because of who I saw was attached: Steve Martin, Martin Short—legends— and then Selena Gomez, just a trifecta in and of herself. I remember telling my sister, I was like, “I’m gonna book the show because I can see myself playing in this world with them.” I just felt like something was brewing at the time. All of 2019, there were a lot of things that we were up for, and they just didn’t go my way. When you feel that pressure constantly, it’s almost like something’s

WHAT DO YOU THINK NOW THAT YOU’VE SEEN THE SHOW?

AD: I couldn’t ask for a better breakout kind of project, because Steve and Marty—I never took a single day for granted when it came to going to work with them and getting to learn from them. And same thing playing opposite of Selena. Her work ethic is second to

AD: I think that’s the beauty and the terror within this industry and within the arts, is you never really know what’s next until it’s there. I’m just looking to ultimately build upon the great opportunity that Only Murders in the Building has been and will continue to be.

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WADING IN:FLEDGLINGS FLO RIDA MUSICIANS ON THE R ISE B y Jessica Giles

Troublemaking Troubadours Five friends from the Orlando burbs are in the business of folk music and Florida sunshine.

I

t starts at the corners of your mouth.

When the first bellows of Joe Capati’s saxophone, punctuated by claps and exuberant strums of the banjo, pierce the silence, it spreads. By the time Matthew Tonner joins in on the keys and Ed Isola’s gleeful voice soars over the jubilant commotion in the background, singing about how “it feels good to be me,” you’ll have a teeth-showing, eyes-squinting smile plastered on your face. And if not, you might be certifiable.

The indie folk band The 502s is, at its core, five friends who like to sing and stomp around with each other, which is exactly why their music is so rapturous. With folk melodies reminiscent of The Lumineers and beats evoking the rhythmic groove of The Avett Brothers, The 502s have an infectiously joyful sound. The bandmates—Ed Isola, Joe Capati, Matthew Tonner, Sean Froehlich and Nicholas Dallas—grew up in the Orlando suburb of Maitland but didn’t start making music as a group until 2015. In fact, Isola says he and Capati weren’t even friends in high school. “Ed was a troublemaker,” Capati quips, wearing a buttonup shirt covered in rocket popsicles. “No, no, I was straight and narrow,” Isola says with a devious smirk. Their easy, brotherly banter persists to the point that their live performances feel more like a massive party. We sat down with Isola and Capati to talk about TikTok, the evolution of The 502s and their upcoming sophomore album.

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shop with US flamingomag.store HOW WOULD YOU GUYS DESCRIBE YOUR SOUND?

JC: “Happy folk” was something that was coined, and I think there’s truly no other way to define that. It’s like folk, and it’s a little bit different. You’ve got a saxophone in there, but you’ve still got sounds of the trumpets and a banjo playing the whole time. But it’s just happy. Even our sad songs somehow end up happy.

DID YOU ALWAYS SET OUT TO MAKE HAPPY MUSIC?

EI: We’ve never intentionally been like, “Oh, let’s write happy songs.” For me, it was just fun to strum on the banjo and sing and shout with friends. Then you get everybody involved, and it’s like, alright, now we’re just having a good time. And you’re writing these feel-good songs that really are more reflective, probably, of how the five of us view life in general.

HAS YOUR MISSION TO BE FLORIDA RAYS OF SUNSHINE TAKEN ON A NEW MEANING DURING THE PANDEMIC?

EI: Something we did during quarantine was this 10-day interactive experience online called Camp Feels Good that was really centered around this idea that we can’t go out, but here’s our whole new album. We had 5,000 people be a part of it. It’s like, OK, now is kind of a crappy time for a lot of people, and it felt like we were able to bring a little positivity through our music and just our interaction and personality with The 502s fam.

TIKTOK IS PARTIALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR RISE TO FAME. TELL US ABOUT THAT.

EI: We filmed this video for “Magdalene” at a local studio here. It’s really just organic looking, and essentially, we just took a 15-second clip from this video, and I posted it. So I put it up, I forget about it. We hadn’t posted on TikTok in six months. Then that night we had band practice, and I’m like, “Guys, the video is at 10,000 views. That’s pretty crazy.”

You know, you’re just sitting there refreshing it. It’s like this dopamine hit every time. By the time I went to sleep that night around midnight, it was 300,000 or 400,000 views.

And then the next morning, it was over a million.

THE 502S

WHAT CAN FANS EXPECT FROM YOUR UPCOMING SOPHOMORE ALBUM?

EI: We refer to it within the band as the older brother of Because We Had To, which was our first album. Namely because when we recorded the first album, we really were new to recording. So then you sit, and you listen, and you go play live shows over two years, and then we record Could It Get Better Than This, the second album, and it’s like “Oh, what if there were four horns on this part? Or different vocals?”—all these From left: Nick Dallas, Joe dynamic things we were able to put into Capati, Ed Isola, this new album. Matt has called it a folk Sean Froehlich orchestra. It’s bigger sounding, but still and Matt Tonner has the same heart as the first album. of The 502s

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ONCE YOU EXPLORE OUR DOWNTOWNS, LOCAL ARTS AND NATURE the rest is history.

Whether it’s meandering a downtown street, biking a trail, or visiting one of our historic musems, there’s always something worth exploring in West Volusia.

Right now, our Cool Craft Beverage Trail is at the top of the list. From coffee and smoothies to craft beers, wines and mead, it’s time to get into the “spirit” as beverage artisans serve up their creations with special offerings and old favorites.

CO N VE N I E NT LY LOCATED B ETWEEN O R L AN D O AN D DAY TO N A B E ACH | V i s i t We s t Vo l u s i a . co m

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(NORTH) short rib Sainte-George. “When people compare our restaurant to the best restaurants in big cities or even Europe, that is really special to me,” says Vera Duren, president of SainteGeorge. sainte-george.com

CLASSIC CAR MUSEUM OF ST. AUGUSTINE

ST. AUGUSTINE

Above: The beachy, boho bar at The Well Floridian Lounge Below: The Scuba Steve cocktail from The Well

THE WELL FLORIDIAN LOUNGE

STEVEN GR AY

P E N S A C O LA

After a visit to New York that included stops at 27 different bars, co-owner D.C. Reeves wanted to create a haunt that rivals, if not bests, the Big Apple lounges. “The thing I pointed to as my hope is that we have this higher-end, unpretentious, cool cocktail experience that you would probably see in bigger cities that our city can be proud of,” Reeves says. His lush, tropical oasis doubles as a distinctly Floridian watering hole, with a menu boasting cocktails created by famed mixologist Gui Jaroschy of Miami’s Broken Shaker.

The lounge also prides itself on a quirky in-house Floridian sour beer. Vibrant greenery, rattan light fixtures and bathroom wallpaper peppered with panthers and flamingos give this space a whimsical vibe without feeling forced or contrived. perfectplain.com/the-well

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THE DISTRICT WINE BAR JACKSONVILLE

Nestled in the heart of historic Springfield, The District transports guests to a modernday Gatsby-esque hideaway.

Settle into a plush velvet chair inside this intimate art deco interior to find charcuterie boards piled high with artisanal cheese and fresh meats, 3-foottall mimosa towers bubbling with champagne and a robust wine list that makes this recent addition to the neighborhood a not-so-secret gem. The real jewel of The District is the Peacock Garden, appropriately named after the sweeping mural that serves as the backdrop for this hidden paradise. For a quieter perch, sneak away to one of two yurt lounges in the back large enough to hold small private parties. “We wanted a concept that was really different, so when you walk in you’re transformed,” says Taylor Beck, administrator of The District.

The building has housed a local bar for more than 40 years, and this new iteration captures the warmth of the neighborhood in every detail, down to the locally sourced bread from 1748 Bakehouse. thedistrictspr.com

SAINTE-GEORGE RESTAURANT ST. AUGUSTINE

This St. Augustine newcomer serves American fare inspired by the sophistication of European cuisine, making the most of locally sourced ingredients for its made-from-scratch menu.

Don’t be too quick to dismiss Sainte-George as a tourist trap because of its prime location in historic old town St. Augustine, right next to the Castillo de San Marcos. The expertly trained staff waits at the ready to ensure the best wine pairing to elevate menu items like the forbidden togarashi spiced seared tuna, harissa roasted vegetable platter and signature

Rolling up to the Classic Car Museum of St. Augustine feels like cruising back in time to a 1950s filling station with a glossy red-top diner booth inside to match. Gearheads can expect to catch everything from American classics like the Ford Model T or a Corvette convertible to European models like a 1956 BMW Isetta inside the 30,000-square-foot space home to autos dating back to the 1900s. The invariably friendly owner Sidney Hobbs works to ensure that the personnel, as well as the cars, give enthusiasts an unforgettable experience.

Beyond serving as a physical catalog of the automobile industry’s greatest hits, the museum also serves as a special event space. The Classic Car Museum even hosts monthly Cars & Coffee sessions for enthusiasts to share their love of vehicles together, so you’ll always be able to find an excuse to drive through. ccmstaug.com

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WILLA’S TA M PA

Above: Willa’s specializes in made-from-scratch American cuisine.

Opening day, at one point, seemed like a near-impossible feat for the owners of Willa’s.

Rain flooded the restaurant’s 100-year-old building twice, kitchen walls collapsed during renovation and, of course, a global pandemic stood in the way. But after three years of painstaking perseverance, this scratch kitchen has already proven it was worth the wait.

“Willa’s is truly a neighborhood restaurant that loves its people and offers classic food that people want to eat all the time, with an attentive, diverse and engaging team that remembers

regulars,” says Nate Siegel, cofounder of Willa’s and its sister cafe, Willa’s Provisions. Amid the cool tones and ample booths, guests will feel at ease as they come back again and again to this Tampa haunt for their whipped ricotta toast with Florida honey or rotisserie chicken topped with salsa verde. Tampa runs deep in the family for co-founder Merrin Jenkins, the great-greatgranddaughter of William “Willie” Lowry, a 19th-century Tampa pioneer who inspired the name of the restaurant. “The community of Tampa is woven into the recipe of Willa’s,” Siegel says. “We take inspiration from the neighborhood everyday.” willastampa.com

Step outside.

Escape the crowds.

Discover a naturally quaint paradise.

Ready for a change of scenery? Head to Martin County, Florida, where miles of natural beaches invite you to forget your worries and relax in the warm sand. Explore the lush beauty of Jonathan Dickinson State Park or embark on a deep-sea fishing expedition off the shores of Stuart. At night, enjoy fresh, locally sourced cuisine before retiring to a tranquil beachside resort or favorite hotel brand.

discovermartin.com

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JET T BUTLER

(C E N T RA L )

WADING IN :JUST HATCHED DEBUTS TO PER USE (C E N T RA L ) LINGR

ST. PETERSBURG

Celebrity chef Jeffrey Jew is already making an impression with his debut restaurant.

Jew, recognized nationally for his time on Top Chef and for taking home the gold on Guy’s Grocery Games, is better known among St. Pete locals for his remarkable culinary contributions at BellaBrava and Stillwaters Tavern. Now patrons get to experience a restaurant entirely from the mind of chef Jew, who’s putting his televisiongrade skills on full display for the people of St. Pete. At Lingr, guests can indulge in a Nordicand Asian-inspired menu that

reflects Jew’s heritage with dishes like mapo ho fun—a spicy rice noodle dish served with szechuan peppercorn— and whole roasted chicken with sweet potato lefse and plum sauce. Not hungry for a whole entree? Slip into a seat at the bar and order one of five cocktails inspired by the elements. The airy grandness of the back patio, which pushes the seating capacity of Lingr to 150, offers guests ample space to enjoy a seasonal drink and dinner from a top chef, giving this Gulf Coast community the upscale eatery and bar that makes them want to, ahem, linger. lingrrestaurant.com

THE NEST DUNEDIN

Hidden in the back of Asian tapas restaurant Caracara, the Nest is a cozy craft cocktail room pouring ingenious libations alongside elevated French fare. The secret saloon is the brainchild of the prolific hospitality group behind Tampa success stories Taco Baby and Jack Pallino’s. The pandemic left the team with two choices, according to co-owner chef Traci Ferguson: “Sit still and wait for what’s to come or continue taking risks like we do every other day of the week and forge our own future.” Although she

helms the kitchen nowadays, Ferguson used her background in architecture to dress the Nest to the nines. With an eclectic mix of antique furniture, greenery wallpaper and a golden nest chandelier, the intimate lounge, seating about 35 people, feels swanky yet sophisticated. And it’s serving up more than just mojitos and mules. Patrons can experience everything from French classics like coq au vin to experimental offerings like Devilish Duck Eggs and Pork Candy. “Everything is special here, so just follow your instincts or go out on a limb. You won’t be disappointed,” Ferguson says. caracaranest.com

FIND PRETTY THINGS Shop in person: Tampa, FL / Jacksonville Beach, FL Shop online 24/7: penelopetboutique.com

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WADING IN :JUST HATCHED DEBUTS TO PER USE (SOUTH) guests to touch and interact with them. The suspension program brings in a rotating series of works meant to make the everyday environment seem extraordinary. “Art is such an important component of life. It is how we express ourselves as humans, and it helps define how we view the world. Superblue was created to be a place of hope, inspiration, and thought-provoking art, and that’s exactly what I hope our visitors experience when entering into our facilities,” says Shantelle Rodriguez, director of experiential art centers at Superblue. The interactive gallery has enjoyed so much success that a London location is right on its heels, but Miami will always be able to say it had it first. superblue.com

DON’S 5 STAR DIVE BAR MIAMI

Kitsch is not only tolerated but celebrated at Don’s 5 Star Dive Bar, an unconventional ode to the famous Dons and Donnas of the Magic City in the ’70s and ’80s. “We are very ‘Miami,’ which means you won’t find this type of place anywhere else in the world,” says owner Matt Kuscher. Upon descending into this underground lounge, your eyes immediately lock in on a naked Don Bailey of Don Bailey Carpets, outstretched on the wall in all his glory.

Multimillionaire speedboat racer Don Aronow watches over patrons from his perch above the bar, while Don Johnson of Miami Vice fame waits to greet guests breaking the seal in the bathroom. The menu matches the bar’s over-the-top decor, with drinks like the Donnie Hates Yoohoo, poured in a carton of Nesquik; the La Doña, a spicy tequila cocktail served with a side of Takis chips; or

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the Don’t F*ck with Don Shula specialty, a potent mix of mezcal, Campari and vermouth. Built on classic cultural touchstones of the city, this not-really-a-dive bar is one big perfectly executed inside joke for every Miamian. kushhospitality.com

RM. 901

While the decor feels decidedly Prohibition era, the cocktail menu has no limitations.

The bartender-in-residence program brings some of the nation’s best mixologists to South Florida, giving them the opportunity to shake up some of their signature sips for Fort Lauderdale. roomnine01.com

F O R T LA U D E R D A L E

Forget the lobby bar: at the Hyatt Centric Las Olas, the real fun is happening in Room 901. This private guest room converted into a speakeasy offers visitors a bespoke, underthe-radar cocktail experience.

“Most guests who visit say they completely forget they’re in a hotel room,” says Katherine Beja-McLennan, the Hyatt Centric Las Olas director of sales and marketing. Red lighting embellishes the plush velvet furniture, while vintage lamps emanate an intimate, retro mood that harks back to the Roaring ’20s. The speakeasy only seats 10, so a reservation is required.

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SUPERBLUE MIAMI MIAMI

This immersive digital art experience, with its mindbending use of color, light, animation and sound, will certainly have you doing a double take. At Superblue Miami, artists tap into technology to create an encounter that plays with the senses. Visitors won’t just look at a mirrored labyrinth; they’ll have to weave their way through it. Gossamer clouds don’t just float by on a screen; instead they rise up around you in an ever-changing installation of soap bubble tufts that tempt

THE CAPITANA KEY WEST KEY WEST

Inspired by the shipwrecks lining the ocean floor off Key West, this boutique hotel has certainly struck gold in its celebration of the Conch Republic.

From chic guest suites to spacious two-bedroom cottages along the canal, the digs at The Capitana ensure you’re always close to the water without sacrificing an ounce of comfort.

Snooze in a shaded hammock on the bay-side beach, sip a poolside daiquiri from the tiki bar and have groceries delivered straight to your cottage if you’re planning a cozy night in. You can even take your pet along for the ride when you book a stay here, as the resort welcomes furry family members. The resort’s minimalist design makes the space feel clean and sophisticated without detracting from the natural beauty of Key West. thecapitanakeywest.com

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DON’S 5 STAR DIVE BAR

Above: Don’s 5 Star Dive Bar is a quirky tribute to the Dons and Donnas of old-school Miami.

T A K E A L O O K B E L O W T H E S U R F A C E.

Manatees in some parts of the state are suffering from starvation due to eelgrass and seagrass loss. But with support from donors like you, we can ensure there’s plenty on the menu for manatees in the future.

You can help us restore manatee habitat by purchasing our “Protect Florida Springs” license plate or making a donation today.

Save our manatees at wildlifeflorida.org/manatees/.

VACATIONERS, START YOUR ENGINES. Experience world-famous beaches offering 23 miles of elbow room - more than enough to enjoy biking, fishing, surfing, strolling, or just relaxing. Choose from boutique hotels to luxury resorts.

When your time is right, plan your getaway.

DaytonaBeach.com

— Unf ilter ed Fodder —

Capital Dame

By D i ane R o b ert s • Il l u st ra t i o n b y J en n a A l ex a n d er

FLORIDA’S FIERCEST FEMALES The Sunshine State ladies in politics, news and books you ought to know

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of my native state always being identified with Florida Man. Sure, no one can resist reading about that nude Jacksonville guy who stole a police car and crashed it in the woods off I-10, or that guy (not nude) who threw an alligator onto the roof of a Daytona Beach bar to “teach it a lesson”— not to be confused with that guy who threw an alligator into the Wendy’s drive-thru window in Loxahatchee—and, most famous of all, that tangerine senior citizen in Palm Beach who thinks he’s still president of the United States. But surely we have more to offer than people who are crazier than a Raid-sprayed roach.

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I say let’s talk about Florida Woman instead.

Not the female iteration of Florida Man; not a woman like the one who tried to make a bomb in a Tampa Walmart or the one who vandalized an Ocala Outback Steakhouse while buck-naked.

I mean a completely different flavor of Florida Woman. This state may be famous for folks who are a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but Florida is home to many women who should be admired, emulated, even voted for; women who transcend the state’s febrile eccentricity, women who never get in the newspaper for getting naked, women you never have to post bail for. In short: women who Floridians should be proud to know. You’ll have your own favorites, but here are my picks.

PAGE-TURNERS Florida is home to a panoply of female writers, from Judy Blume, the great chronicler of American adolescence, to the renowned Lauren Groff of Gainesville. Groff is originally from upstate New York, but her more recent fiction revels in North Florida’s moss-draped gothic soul. She’s somewhat unenthusiastic about our climate: In a recent tweet she called Florida the “armpit of Satan.”

Jacksonville native Dantiel Moniz excavates the dark secrets of family relationships in Above from left: her haunting story Anna Eskamani, Nikki Fried, collection, Milk Blood Val Demings, Heat, and while Julie K. Brown

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Capital Dame UNF ILTER ED FODDER

she confesses to Environmental journalist Cynthia Barnett looks Reed, co-author of the Endangered Species Act “complicated” feelings at water with a reporter’s discipline and an artist’s and the guy who stopped the feds from building about her home state, grace: She’s written books on disappearing a huge airport in Big Cypress Swamp. Soon after she also credits it with wetlands, rain and, most recently, oceans and Estenoz got the Washington job, she tweeted shaping her as an artist. their shell-dwelling inhabitants. The Sound of a photograph of the young Reed and said, Kristen Arnett, another the Sea: Seashells and the Fate of the Oceans “Nathaniel will be there every day when I walk Val Demings young author, revels in weaves together the personal, the poetic and the into my new office.”

Florida’s paradoxes, the state’s unruly flora scientific. Barnett, who teaches at the University Rep. Val Demings made it to D.C. a little and fauna and its culture of religion-fueled of Florida, tells of childhood shell collecting on earlier than Estenoz. First elected in 2016, she intolerance. Arnett was born and raised Sanibel and explores the history of shells’ use as was a Central Florida police officer for 27 years. in Orlando, Florida’s animatronic heart, money, magical objects and food.

Pro tip: Don’t mess with her. I’ve seen a town she has described as “very queer” Their “calcifying life-forms gave how she takes down fellow members yet without many opportunities for young us mountains” and “the limestone of Congress trying to browbeat her, queer people. In her 2019 bestselling debut, aquifers that hold fresh water interrupt her, or mansplain at her.

Mostly Dead Things, a young woman named underground.” No shells, no No wonder she was chosen as one Jessa-Lynn inherits her father’s taxidermy Florida. of the House of Representatives’ business after he kills himself. Her lover managers for President Donald (who was also, messily, her brother’s wife) is Pretty political Trump’s impeachment trial. Demings gone, while her mother’s way of processing Given this state’s embrace of was raised dirt-poor in Jacksonville, Nikki Fried grief is to make “art” with stuffed, mounted drain-and-pave development, child of a maid and a janitor. She went rabbits in suggestive poses and raccoons in I hate to think where we’d be without the to segregated schools (Florida, like most of the negligees. long line of women fighting for what’s left of South, didn’t take the Supreme Court’s 1954 Writers will tell you that, along with a the wild, including naturalist Marjorie Harris takedown of “separate but equal” seriously until big dictionary and barrels of coffee, what Carr, one of the founders of Florida Defenders forced to in the late 1960s), put herself through they need to thrive is a great independent of the Environment, and Marjory Stoneman FSU and became Orlando’s first female police bookseller who’ll champion their work.

Douglas, patron saint of the Everglades. Today, chief. Now she’s running for the U.S. Senate, Writers and readers alike in Tallahassee Shannon Estenoz follows in their determined hoping to unseat Marco Rubio in 2022. have been spoiled rotten by the brilliantly footsteps. Formerly the chief operating officer Another trailblazer, another candidate: Nikki curated Midtown Reader, presided over by of The Everglades Foundation, she is now the Fried, the state’s first female commissioner of recovering political operative Sally Bradshaw.

Biden administration’s assistant secretary for agriculture, would like to become the state’s first A White House aide to President George Fish and Wildlife and Parks at the Department female governor in 2022. The Miami-born Fried H.W. Bush and longtime top adviser to Gov. of the Interior. She’s a fifth-generation Conch, was student body president at UF and belonged Jeb Bush, Bradshaw left the GOP in 2016 a graduate of Key West High and Florida State to Florida Blue Key, the influential and exclusive and dedicated herself to fostering University. So thoroughly Floridian that networking organization that has launched many local literary culture. The shop on Mother’s Day 2020 she tweeted a a political career. Florida’s Republican Attorney boasts an entire wall of books picture of a mama gator with a cuddly General Ashley Moody, like Fried elected in about Florida or by Florida baby gator riding on its head. Her 2018, was also a Blue Key member, though her authors, several of whom can new gig is of immense importance to politics are obviously different. Fried is the be found upstairs in the cafe, this state, what with manatees dying only Democrat elected to statewide office—an sucking down cortaditos. in unprecedented numbers, panthers achievement for a party that hasn’t held power in Indeed, our great state is getting run out of their habitats only to Florida for more than 20 years—and an advocate Anna Eskamani strangely liquid; Kristin Arnett be run over on the highway and poison for more gun regulation, fewer restrictions on has called Florida “juicy.” With algae choking our waters. The last marijuana and the restoration of felons’ voting so much sea, so many springs and rivers and Floridian to hold the Department of the Interior rights. Moody, a former Hillsborough County lakes, it’s a miracle we don’t just dissolve. post was the great conservationist Nathaniel judge, holds opposing views. Fried has fallen

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foul of some Democrats for her campaign contributions to Republicans, including $4,865 to her old college friend Ashley Moody in 2017.

For her part, Moody used to be a Democrat—in her early 20s, at least. She became a Republican in 1998, though that didn’t stop her (and 53 others) from suing Donald Trump in 2009 for fraud over the failed Trump Tower Tampa.

Whether you agree with their policies or not, Moody and Fried, along with Republican Lieutenant Governor Jeanette Nuñez, hold some of the highest positions in the land.

Florida politics are often simultaneously surreal, sleazy and cynical. Yet idealists thrive, too, bright sparks like state Rep. Anna Eskamani from the 47th district, on the east side of Orlando.

You may have seen her on Time magazine’s 2018 “The Avengers” cover highlighting first-time female candidates for office. You may have read in the Orlando Sentinel that she’s the “future of Florida.” She’s not your usual politician. All of 31 years old, an Orlando Democrat whose parents immigrated from Iran and a graduate of UCF, she’s not Blue Key; not well-connected; not part of anybody’s Old Boys’ or Old Girls’ network. Eskamani’s a determined proponent of progressive causes from LGBTQ rights to women’s rights to racial justice to ending homelessness.

government, even as the Florida Legislature tried (every single damn year!) to make it harder for the public to hold their government accountable.

Petersen retired from the Foundation in 2019, and, clearly refusing to accept retirement’s implications of kicking back and relaxing, founded the nonpartisan Florida Center for Government Accountability (disclosure: I’m a member of FLCGA’s board). The center helps citizens get access to government records they’re entitled to view and deploys journalists to investigate the dodgy dealings of myriad officials, from a Collier County commissioner too cozy with developers to the big money behind the Piney Point fertilizer plant that allowed toxic wastewater to flood into Tampa Bay. There are people who think Florida is pretty much paradise just the way it is now, who don’t want to hear about, say, our record COVID-19 infection numbers, our beaches stinking with dead fish or our less-than-honest leaders. But for those of us partial to reality, Florida is blessed with a cadre of female journalists not buying what our elected leaders try to sell us. Lucy Morgan, a member of the Florida Newspaper Hall of Fame and the Florida Women’s Hall of Fame, has been a fierce champion of a free press (the First Amendment Foundation named an award after her), fearlessly uncovering officials’ misdeeds for 56 years and winning a Pulitzer Prize for exposing corruption in the Pasco County Sheriff’s Office. She claims to be retired, but at 81 she’s still investigating and writing.

Mary Ellen Klas, chief of the joint Tampa Bay Times/Miami Herald Capitol bureau, resembles Morgan in her refusal to be intimidated by the powerful. She breaks big-time stories like the one about people in a wealthy gated enclave down in the Keys getting the COVID-19 jab early.

And without the equally tenacious Julie K.

Floridians fight over politics like minks in a sack

Breaking the big ones Floridians fight over politics like minks in a sack, but I’m pretty sure we all want to know what our representatives are up to. This is why we owe Barbara Petersen a bottle of good red wine and a big thank you. A graduate of the FSU College of Law, she headed the First Amendment Foundation for 25 years, turning it into a ferocious advocate for a free press and open

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Brown, we might not know the extent of Jeffrey Epstein’s crimes. In 2008, Epstein was sentenced to 13 months of jail time in Palm Beach County. The charge was procuring a girl under the age of 18 for prostitution, and as a result, Epstein was registered as a sex offender. Yet the local sheriff allowed him to travel to his office every day, ferried there by his own chauffeur. Brown was intrigued—and appalled. Some of her editors at the Miami Herald weren’t keen on the story, and Brown Julie K. Brown worried that, given the constant downsizing of newsrooms, she could get laid off at any time. Still, she kept digging and eventually tracked down more than 60 of Epstein’s victims, listening to their stories, giving them a voice. In 2018, the Herald published her three-part series on Epstein and the girls he assaulted. Spurred on by Brown’s work, in July 2019, the FBI-NYPD Crimes Against Children Task Force arrested Epstein. On the 10th of August, 2019, he was found dead in his cell, apparently by suicide.

Brown’s dogged reporting and refusal to cave in to pressure paid off. She, like all these women, is proof that when Florida Woman— the real, the brave, the smart, the talented Florida Woman—decides to write it, run for it, litigate it, negotiate it, clean it up or expose it to the light of day, you don’t want to get in her way.

Diane Roberts is an eighthgeneration Floridian, educated at Florida State University and at Oxford University. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Guardian and the Tampa Bay Times. She has also authored four books, including Dream State, a historical memoir of Florida.

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From backwoods mud bogs to bioluminescent bays to Miami thrift shops, we’ve hand-picked some of the Sunshine State’s most exciting and surprising adventures.

Go Deeper

Fly Higher

Trek Farther

By ERIC BARTON AND JESSICA GILES

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erhaps the most astounding thing about the Sunshine State is its sheer vastness and versatility. One moment, you can wade through swamplands in search of wildlife and wonderment. then, a few hours later, tear through longleaf pine forests on an ATV before sprawling out in a grassy clearing under a blanket of stars. Every nook of Florida holds its own secrets and splendor, and luckily for Floridians, the ways to discover them are so innumerable they could last a lifetime. Here’s how to begin the journey, from high up in the sky to hundreds of feet beneath the sea and deep in the heart of Florida.

Air bor ne Adventu re s Here in Florida—where the sun rises on one coast and sets on the other—we have, without a doubt, a big sky, and we’re fortunate to have a lot of ways to rise up into it, like the airborne adventures you’ll find below.

In a city more commonly visited by people interested in roller coasters and a certain famous mouse, the Orlando area also has companies that’ll take you up over it all. With Painted Horizons HOT AIR BALLOON Tours, you’ll have a bird’seye view of theme parks, lakes and the old phosphate mines of Central Florida during daily sunrise flights. The company has a long history with ballooning, having been founded in 1991 by Federal Aviation Administration–certified hot-air balloon pilot and instructor Tom Green. The trips can be solo adventures with just you and the pilot or have as many as 18 of you drifting up into the clouds. Not far away, in the town of Championsgate, hot-air balloon pilot Max Moerles with Air Hound Adventures flies hourlong rides that end with a champagne picnic set up in a field, his colorful balloon lying on the grass nearby.

The first step in BECOMING Previous Spread: Fly AN AIRPLANE PILOT, or at up, up and away least pretending to be one, is typin a hot air balloon over Central Florida, ically called a discovery flight. A and end with a champagne picnic. certified flight instructor takes you Left: Floridians can up in a small turboprop plane; learn to fly everything you’re in the pilot’s seat. Not long from a seaplane to a fighter jet in the after you reach cruising altitude, Sunshine State.

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the state has several spots known for hang gliding. Since we don’t have cliffs to jump off, hang gliders get a tow either from pickup trucks or ultralight aircraft that pull you up until steady winds keep you afloat. Two spots—Wallaby Ranch and the Florida Ridge Airsports Park—offer aerotow for hang gliders, while Florida Ridge Airsports Park uses a truck to hoist you by cable up, up and away.

For our Spring/Summer 2021 cover story on Little Palm Island, we found ourselves on a private beach with its own firepit roaring, the sun casting shades of orange into the mangroves and a SEAPLANE landing in the bay and then stopping offshore so guests could drop into a speedboat for deliv-

ery to shore. It’s one of the state’s out-of-reach spots made accessible by seaplane. Here in Florida, we have more members of the Seaplane Pilots Association than any other state in the nation, thanks to seaplane training schools and tons of flat water, which serves as a wet runway. From Mount Dora, Jones Brothers & Co. flies a small squadron of seaplanes that drop in and out of lakes and rivers in search of gators and quiet spots to tie off. There’s also Tropic Ocean Airways, a full-fledged seaplane airline owned by swashbuckling former fighter pilot Rob Ceravolo, living out a childhood dream of flying the seaplanes he discovered in the pages of a Jimmy Buffett novel.

Above and right: A group

rides the Miccosukee Canopy Road Greenway in Tallahassee; Walkers and bikers travel beneath the moss-draped 200-year-old live oaks that frame the City of Tallahassee’s Lafayette Heritage Trail Park Canopy Walkway Bridge.

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MARK WALLHEISER

the yoke is yours. Here, you’ll discover that flying is a complex combination of steering, throttle and pedals, which bank you left and right, a coordination that just barely begins to make sense before the actual pilot takes over again to bring you back in for a landing. Florida is a prime destination for would-be pilots looking to learn from flight schools dotted around the peninsula, like Florida Aviation Academy in Pompano Beach or Paragon Flight Training Co. in Fort Myers. At Sterling Flight Training in Jacksonville, a 30-minute discovery flight can take you down the First Coast and over the preserve at Guana Tolomato Matanzas National Estuarine Research Reserve in St. Augustine; it’s an introduction, perhaps the start of your new hobby or, if they really hook you, a new career as a pilot.

Once you have that pilot’s license in hand and you’ve tasted the speed of a controlled drop or the power of the G-forces in a tight turn, you might acquire an itch for something more daring. In that case, head to Fort Lauderdale, where Gary Solkovits owns Jet Fighters International.

The company trains commercial pilots to FLY FIGHTER JETS, including “upset” and “critical unusual” training that takes pilots upside down and into altitudes typically not, let’s say, ideal for flying. Similarly, a company based in Zurich, Switzerland, called MiGFlug offers jet flights from Cape Canaveral using an Aero L-39 Albatros, a Czech-made fighter plane in which you can pretend you’re coming up on the tail of Maverick.

Over in St. Petersburg, Aurora Aerospace Training Center uses military jets to bring pilots to the point of zero-gravity weightlessness, which the company says makes it the world’s only civilian space training center.

You’ve probably seen one buzzing over you at the beach, gliding gently over the waves, essentially a small airboat engine hanging below a parachute.

Powered PARAGLIDING looks both fragile and fascinating. Florida Powered Paragliding at Homestead General Aviation Airport offers training for beginners for five to seven days, which ends with students ready to lift off on their own, nothing below them but their dangling feet and the scenery passing by. If you’re not ready to go all in, take a 30-minute tandem flight to test your willingness to suspend by chute. You’ll find similar first-time flights and training for those ready to commit at other spots around the state, including Paragliding Florida in Weston and the Paramotor and Powered Paragliding School in Lake Wales. If the idea of flying without an engine sounds more palatable (and peaceful),

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WHERE TO GO 1. Lot Liquidators of America 2257 E. 10th Ave. Furniture, knickknacks 2. El Frenazo 1025 E. 16th St. Furniture 3. Tropical Thrift 1083/1085 E. 16th St. Vintage furniture 4. JC Furniture 1085 E. 13th St. Hotel buyout, new/used furniture 5. FLAMINGO PLAZA 901 E. 10th Ave. Red, White & Blue Home goods, furniture, clothing

Thrift City Clothing Thrift by the Pound Clothing, shoes, pay by the pound

One Man’s Trash

Exploring doesn’t have to mean conquering the great outdoors. Read about how one Miami restaurateur’s passion for scouring thrift shops led to the creation of the Hialeah Thrift Trail.

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hen Matt Kuscher opened his first restaurant in Miami a decade ago, he’ll admit now, he had no idea how he’d actually decorate the place.

“I had no money,” Kuscher says. “So I said, ‘OK, let me see what I can find,’ and I just collected a bunch of things people didn’t want.”

Friends gave him old furniture, and he found tables, chairs and glassware from thrift stores. At some point, he got six boxes of old cassette cases, and he just started gluing them to the bar. “And I mean,” he says, “it looks super cool.”

These days, Kuscher is a downright restaurateur, with six restaurants, two bars and a milkshake shop in Miami, including the original LoKal, Vicky’s House and several locations of Kush. He still hasn’t lost interest in filling his place with quirky finds. He walks his dog, Yeyo, at night so he can see what the neighbors left out for bulk trash pickup. “I was trying to be frugal and good for the environment, so I never saw the need to buy a chair from a restaurant-supply company when I could just go find one,” he says.

While lots of people are into thrifting, Kuscher realized many of the stores he visited were unknown to the people who share his interest in kitsch. Most of his favorite spots are in Hialeah, in the Miami metropolitan area, which Forbes magazine called one of the most boring cities in America in 2009. A fan of this eclectic place, Kuscher decided he’d create a map to help bring people there. He calls it the Hialeah Thrift Trail, and he’s going to bet, even if you’re a serious thrifter, it’s full of places you haven’t been. There’s El Frenazo on East 16th Street, Thrift by the Pound in Flamingo Plaza

and the aptly named Collazo’s Secret Thrift Shop on East 10th Avenue.

Asked to name his favorite find, Kuscher really had to think about it. The day before we spoke, he found a bright orange mirror for five bucks that fit perfectly in the place of one he’d had that broke. He found a mint-condition collection of dirty magazines that he uses for coasters, and he uses old DVD cases to deliver the bill to tables. For Don’s 5 Star Dive Bar, he found a neon sign that looks like a cross, a feature that always ends up on Instagram. But then, no, he says, the best find has to be the couch he got to go under the cross.

It cost him $10. The only downside was that somebody had sawed it in half. He placed one side on each side of the cross, and it was like it was made for that spot.

He says, “It’s an amazing, amazing piece that really accentuates the artwork.”

After printing out the thrifting maps for the first time in July, Kuscher now hands them out to people who come to his businesses and also gives them a free cocktail if they return with a receipt from one of the stores. That may sound crazy to some people—not only does he make no money off this thrift map, but he actually loses some, too. But Kuscher has been a longtime supporter of all things Miami, right down to donning green tights and a cape to become his alter ego, Kaptain Kush, the champion of Miami culture (seriously, he does this). “In all the concepts we do, we like to showcase Miami and what makes us the best city in the world,” he says. “We wanted to do something to showcase this neighborhood that has all these amazing thrift stores that nobody really knows about.”

Community Thrift Store Furniture, home goods 6. Jireh Thrift Store Corp.

1065 E. 10th Ave. All appliances, furniture, clothing 7. Collazo’s Secret Thrift Shop 1345 E. 10th Ave. Furniture, vintage everything

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8. Liquidation Station 1365 E. 10th Ave. Appliances, furniture

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Bike Tr ails and Backroads You just might be under the belief that Florida isn’t a good place to bike, and we wouldn’t blame you. Just a few years ago, a state with YEAR-ROUND BIKING weather had few safe places to ride. Now, there are bike paths tracing the coasts, crossing through the center of the peninsula and cutting through the landscape. Among the most stunning of them has to be the Florida Keys Overseas Heritage Trail, which stretches 90 miles, nearly the entire length of the islands. With open vistas of Caribbean seas, it’s a separated bike path that keeps you away from U.S. Highway 1 traffic for much of the ride, making this a good destination for newbies and experienced cyclists.

Further north, the FLORIDA COAST-TO-COAST TRAIL cuts the state crossways from St. Petersburg to Titusville, and while about 10 percent remains incomplete, the path includes long stretches that slice through picturesque hammocks and forests. The trail links up to and includes several other routes, some worthy of a trip on their own, like the 52-mile East Central Regional Rail Trail, covered by live oaks and palms.

In Gainesville, there are a handful of bike routes intersecting the city; take the GAINESVILLE-HAWTHORNE STATE TRAIL, where you can roll along mostly gentle hills for 16 miles through prairies and savannas. Dirt and paved paths intersect with it and create a system you could spend days exploring. Tallahassee has even more options, thanks to the more than 700 miles of paved and dirt paths the city offers.

Some planned communities in Florida have also become biking meccas, like The Villages and Weston, where retirees and cyclists from all over descend to ride well-marked and wellrespected paths.

There are also the more hidden, lesser-known spots, just about everywhere. At the Guana River Wildlife Management Area in Ponte Vedra Beach, you might not see another person during a gravel adventure below a shaded canopy. The bike paths in Amelia Island head south and converge into a meandering paved path through Little Talbot Island State Park, where all-day cyclists can continue on to catch the ferry over to Mayport in Jacksonville.

Right now, you might be wondering why we didn’t mention your favorite spot to bike. It’s a good problem to have here in Florida, where suddenly we have so many good bike paths we simply can’t list them all.

Le t’s Go Camping Some of the best exploration in the Sunshine State actually happens after the sun goes down. Roll out a sleeping bag and stretch out beneath the stars at KISSIMMEE PRAIRIE PRESERVE STATE PARK to fully appreciate Florida’s first Dark Sky Park. This sprawling sea of grassland is far enough removed from the shimmering lights of Cinderella’s

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sites at TOPSAIL HILL PRESERVE STATE PARK, where outdoor enthusiasts can spend the day paddleboarding the viridescent waters of the Gulf of Mexico or meandering some of the 15 miles of trails, which reveal traces of the old turpentine industry and the World War II JB-2 rocket development program.

Perhaps the most stripped-down, backcountry camping opportunity in Florida can be found deep in EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, beyond the boundaries of touristy airboat rides. To reach these remote camping sites, explorers will need a skiff or shallow-water boat that can maneuver through the Wilderness Waterway. Tucked among thickets of mangroves and sprinkled throughout the unforgiving swamp are unassuming “chickees,” the Seminole word for “thatched roofs,” which is about all there is to it. Not for novices, these wooden stilt structures hover just a few feet above the water and offer 360-degree views of unspoiled Florida. With just enough room for a small tent and a cool breeze that keeps bugs at bay, it’s a no-frills affair fitting for those who want to get off grid. Given their isolated location, campers should pack enough food for their stay—or be skilled with a rod and reel. Don’t worry, the platforms are high enough to keep gators away, but be prepared: you may hear things go bump in the night.

Above Paddle your

way through a bioluminescent bay and experience Mother Nature’s glow.

Right: Spend a night

under the stars in Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park to fully appreciate Florida’s first Dark Sky Park.

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Castle and the light pollution of downtown Orlando to provide ink-black skies ideal for stargazing. Serious star seekers can reserve an astronomy pad in the “red-light district” of the park to take in the full splendor of the skies, but even amateur astronomers can spot the Milky Way from their tent without the help of a telescope.

For those who like a little more glamour than grime, FANCY CAMPS, a Florida-based glamping company, allows adventurers to experience Florida state parks after dark with all the comforts of a trendy hotel. Their rentable glamping tent can be set up at accommodating sites around the state and comes with a queen bed; dreamy boho rugs and end tables; exterior and interior lighting; a heating/cooling unit; a picnic table and a fire ring. The company has permanent camping

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With 1,350 miles of coastline, Floridians need to find their sea legs if they want to explore the real hidden treasures of our peninsula. There are the well-known deep-sea fishing trips and snorkeling expeditions in the freshwater springs, which glitter like diamonds beneath the high-noon sun. But embark on a marine adventure by the light of the moon, and it illuminates a spectacle found in few other places on Earth.

Sink a paddle into the warm waters of Indian River Lagoon near Titusville after nightfall and the phenomenon appears.

Glowing streaks of neon blue punctuate the dark waves as each kayak stirs up dinoflagellates—harmless plankton that emit bright blue light when moved. There are dozens of outfitters that lead excursions into a BIOLUMINESCENT BAY near the Kennedy Space Center, but opt for one like A Day Away Kayak Tours, which levels up the light show by using clear kayaks that immerse you in the bioluminescence.

While microscopic organisms are responsible for the anomaly, larger marine life like mullet, manatees and dolphins can also be seen putting on a real performance. Aquamarine sparkles outline their movements and silhouettes like fireworks raining down from the sky. This display is best viewed during warmer months, with the peak season running from May through early November.

Pack up and head about an hour west to the endearing city of Winter Park for a beginner-friendly paddling path that looks

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better suited for a gondola than a kayak. WINTER PARK’S CHAIN OF LAKES are connected by Venetian canals framed with cypress trees and verdant ferns. The meandering waterway connects six lakes and winds through neat rows of opulent mansions with manicured gardens, giving paddlers a glimpse of the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Finish your trek on the west coast for an encounter you won’t find anywhere else in North America. Slipping into Crystal River’s 72-degree water in the middle of winter may not sound like a dream dip, but what you’ll find cruising along the pellucid waters is worth the chill. Crystal River is the only place on the continent where you’re legally allowed to SWIM WITH MANATEES in their natural habitat.

From November through April, as many as 400 of these gentle giants flock to balmy Kings Bay, giving Floridians the unique opportunity to share the water with them. To see these mellow mammals up close, launch your kayak or slip into the springs early in the morning when they’re at their most playful. Don’t forget, these calm creatures are endangered, so avoid making loud noises and initiating contact. If a curious manatee approaches—as they’re wont to do—stick to a gentle touch with one palm, never both.

Of f - R oa d ing & M ud Bo g g in g Take advantage of the Sunshine State’s swamps when you explore Florida’s boggy backwoods on an all-terrain vehicle or other off-roading vehicle. The OCALA NATIONAL FOREST boasts one of the most extensive off-roading trail systems in the state. Four-wheelers and motorcycles can kick up dust on more than 200 miles of trails that weave through endangered scrub oaks and sand pine forests. If you’re tackling the terrain in a four-wheel drive vehicle, there are 81 miles of off-road pathways to ride. The forest service limits speeds on these routes, allowing riders to take it easy and spot some of the forest’s wildlife, including black bears, coyotes, white-tailed deer and wild boar.

For those a little more wild than mild, make the drive over to HOG WALLER MUD BOG & ATV in Palatka for some mud-slinging mayhem. Don your least-favorite denim for this drive, because the centerpiece of this Putnam County playground is a 6-acre mud pit. Play around in the pit or embark down some of the 50 miles of natural and man-made trails. For a challenge, visit during the park’s all-hours weekends, where adrenaline addicts can rip through the pit and ride the trails long after the sun goes down. Remember: The filthier you are, the more fun you’re having.

D i v in g For those willing to plunge beneath the surface, a diver’s playground awaits just off the coast. In the north, scuba divers can

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Left: Swim with

manatees at Crystal River, the only place on the continent where you’re legally allowed.

Above: Dive among

mermaid sculptures molded after actual Floridians at the 1,000 Mermaids Artificial Reef Project in Fort Lauderdale.

swim the FLORIDA PANHANDLE SHIPWRECK TRAIL and see 12 unique wrecks from Pensacola to Port St. Joe. About 22 miles south of Pensacola is one of the most popular diving destinations in the country: the USS Oriskany. Once a massive aircraft carrier that served in the Korean and Vietnam Wars, now this sunken ship is the world’s largest artificial reef.

Advanced divers can descend as deep as 145 feet to the flight deck, while more novice swimmers can peer through the portholes and decks of the conning tower starting at 80 feet below the surface.

Off the coast of Palm Beach, divers won’t find sunken ships or treasure chests, but instead a family of mermaids swirling among schools of fish and burgeoning coral. The underwater sculpture garden is part of the 1000 MERMAIDS ARTIFICIAL REEF PROJECT, an initiative that casts the bodies of real Floridians into concrete mermaids that will live forever on the ocean floor near Fort Lauderdale, Dania Beach and Palm Beach. This gallery of ethereal figurines isn’t just for looks; each sculpture gives baby coral a secure place to adhere to, creating an artistic artificial reef ripe for exploring.

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GUNPOWDER Glamping

On a dude ranch in Central Florida, two sisters discover that sometimes the best travel experiences take place outside your comfort zone.

By JESSICA GILES // Photography by MARY BETH KOETH

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M

Kristina and Jessica Giles saddle up at Westgate River Ranch.

Right: Westgate

River Ranch sits about an hour south of Orlando; Kristina Giles looks out over the ranch.

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Opening Spread:

WESTGATE RIVER R ANCH; VEC TORSTOCK .COM

y bedroom looked like it had been ransacked. Clothes hung from half-open drawers. The carpet was buried beneath piles of dresses and denim, my bed blanketed by a thick layer of laundry.

“What am I supposed to wear to a rodeo?” I hollered to my sister Kristina, who was packing in the other room. I had sifted through every stitch of clothing I owned—some I swear I’d never seen before—and found nothing suitable for the Southern odyssey I was about to embark on.

We were taking a trip to Westgate River Ranch Resort & Rodeo, down near Lake Wales, and it promised to be four days of rootin’-tootin’ revelry. The only problem was that I didn’t have anything to wear for said rootin’-tootin’ revelry. I beckoned my sister into the living room.

“Show me what you’re wearing to the rodeo,” I demanded.

Kristina loves all things luxury and athleisure, so unless Lululemon had a cowboy boot line I didn’t know about, I was skeptical she had anything fit for the occasion.

It wasn’t just my lack of Western attire that made me nervous about our trip. In all honesty, almost the whole itinerary made me jittery. Our days were slated to be filled with skeet shooting, horseback riding, swamp buggy tours and a host of other activities suitable for a wild Wild West woman, but definitely not me, the girl who was so scared a bear would eat her marshmallow-covered hands on a camping trip that she slept with them stuffed inside her sweatpants. My sisters and I grew up going to demolition derbies, riding four-wheelers with our dad and whitewater rafting down the Ocoee River, so we were no strangers to adventure. It was the unfamiliarity of these particular Western escapades that gave me heart palpitations.

Our three-and-a-half-hour car ride from Jacksonville to the sticks of Central Florida gave me plenty of time to mull over all the things that could go wrong. What if my horse went rogue,

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and I disappeared into the wilderness? What if I put a bullet in my foot while trying to shoot skeet? What if I awoke to find a snake had slithered under the covers with me? I’ve always been a worrier, but my thoughts were hurtling at me faster than the dotted white lines on the asphalt disappearing beneath my tires.

Maybe I should stop and buy some cowboy boots, I thought.

Girls Gone ...Wild?

I was soothed by the fact that this wouldn’t be typical tent camping; this was glamping. Our luxury air-conditioned tent was outfitted with two sinks, a spacious walk-in shower, electrical outlets aplenty and a king-size bed so comfortable you’d be tempted to never set foot in the nature waiting outside your door. The moment we stepped inside our extravagant digs, I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

Now this kind of camping we could do. Coffee and breakfast delivered to our tent each morning, an ice chest filled to the brim with water bottles every day, and a personal golf cart we could use to explore some of the 1,700 acres of sprawling ranch land that unfurled around us.

My sister surveyed our luxury glamping tent with scrutiny, both admiring the details and searching for creepy-crawlies that could be hiding beneath our sleeper sofa. “Wow, it’s really nice in here,” she said, seemingly satisfied. I agreed. This certainly wasn’t roughing it. Vacation is all about comfort. Maybe this dude ranch would be more comfortable than I thought.

We grabbed the keys to our golf cart and climbed in. My sister took the driver’s seat, and we careened around the ranch like we were two kids who had just hijacked some wheels from a country club. These were gas-powered runabouts, so we flew over divots in the grass and laughed until we nearly fell off the sides. At one point, Kristina almost ejected me when she abruptly stomped on the brake.

“Spider!” she screamed. I looked above her head, where I saw an eight-legged friend clinging to the roof. She demanded I fetch a stick to smash it. We certainly weren’t Wild West women.

We spent the afternoon getting our bearings around the ranch and saying hello to some of the other guests, namely the ones with big humps and horns. When you first arrive at Westgate River Ranch, the herd of bison roaming just off the road makes it seem like you’ve traveled to the heart of Yellowstone National Park. You’d be forgiven if you didn’t realize that Florida was home to bison. In fact, the only other place you can really spot them in the Sunshine State is Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park, just south of Gainesville. We’d noticed some on our way into the ranch and had been itching for a closer look ever since.

Pulling off to the side, we dodged piles of horse dung like

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it was a high-stakes game of hopscotch as we made our way over to the fence separating us from these prehistoric-looking animals. A herd of tourists gathered on the side of the fence, phones out, hoping to snap the perfect bison boomerang for Instagram. The animals’ tails swished lazily behind them as they stooped down to graze on the mushy grass. One had moseyed right over to the fence, his horns nearly brushing the barbed wire. A man in baggy jeans and a backward baseball hat inched closer, holding his phone out in front of him. The bison didn’t care much for the paparazzi and charged toward the fence where he stood, sending the man scurrying backward so quickly he almost tripped over his drooping pants. I thought twice about laughing at him, knowing good and well that could be me the next day, running away from my horse.

That evening, I slid beneath the fluffy white comforter of our king-size bed exhausted, stuffed with barbecue but still ruminating on the “what-ifs.” I picked up the itinerary on the bedside table and thumbed through the pages. First up tomorrow: skeet shooting. Orientation was over. No more dipping my toes into the Western world; tomorrow we would plunge in headfirst.

Just Call Me Annie Oakley Below: Jessica Giles and a Westgate horse stroll down a trail.

We woke to the sound of employees placing a steaming pot of coffee and a picnic basket brimming with quiche, pastries, fruit and yogurt on our front porch. I only nibbled on the quiche,

blaming my lack of appetite on our army-sized dinner the night before. Truly, though, my stomach was already flipping at the thought of our 10 a.m. activity.

My father has offered to take me to the shooting range more times than I can count. I grew up knowing that he had an assortment of pistols, shotguns and rifles, but I never cared to know more, and I certainly never wanted to shoot any of them. He never pushed. Meanwhile, both of my older sisters would load up in his truck and go to the range. They’d return holding their targets proudly and laughing about what a terrible shot Kristina was. I envied the time they got to spend with our dad, but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the anxiety that welled up inside me any time I thought about tagging along. Even seeing him clean a gun on our kitchen counter was enough to relegate me to my room until he was done.

Sitting out of skeet shooting now wasn’t an option for me.

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o more dipping my toes into the “ N western world; tomorrow we would plunge in headfirst.”

—Jessica Giles

Above: xxxxx Below from left: xxxxx

For one thing, I wanted to get the total experience while I was here. And part of me was still battling little sister syndrome. If Kristina was going to do it, then I was, too. I couldn’t have her showing me up.

We wrapped up our breakfast and made the two-minute drive past the tent-camping and RV sites to get to the shooting range. I silently cursed that it wasn’t farther away. I needed just a few more minutes to give myself a pep talk. As we filled out our waivers, I sized up Alton Clark, the man who would be guiding me through my own personal hell. He wore a pale-blue plaid shirt tucked into his scuffed jeans and sunglasses, even when he was inside. He instantly reminded me of my dad.

He led our small group into the screened-in patio, where he walked us through all of the rules. First rule: treat every gun as if it’s loaded. My dad had said that to me once, but I didn’t give it much thought. I had always sworn I’d never be the one holding

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the gun. I felt a few bites of quiche gurgle in my stomach.

I’d assumed we’d be using some kind of rubber bullet, so I was taken aback when Alton handed me a bag full of live ammo and instructed me to clip it on my hip. We geared up in earplugs and eyeglasses, and then he passed out the shotguns. I held mine like a bomb that might detonate at any second. He ushered us all out onto the range and asked us each to stand on one of the squares numbered one through four. I pushed Kristina toward square number one. I sure as hell wasn’t going first, and after all, she is the big sister.

Alton talked her through each step: load the bullet, place the stock in the crook of your shoulder so as not to bruise and track the clay as it arcs through the sky.

“Take a deep breath,” he said. “Ready?” She nodded. I inched farther away from the gun and tried to prepare myself for the blast. I jumped regardless.

Above: Horses running

in from the fields at Westgate River Ranch

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quite a few myself. Not bad for the girl who could hardly keep down her breakfast an hour earlier.

We only stopped when we ran out of ammo—and realized we were 15 minutes late for our next activity. Before we took off, Alton asked if we wanted to take a picture with the “Girls with guns have more fun” sign. I wasn’t sure I was ready to make that kind of statement on my Instagram, yet. After all, I hadn’t even held the gun for an hour. Instead, I drafted a text to my dad: “I think I want a 20-gauge for Christmas.”

“Close one!” he said reassuringly. I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not because I had instinctively squeezed my eyes shut when she pulled the trigger. “By the end of this, you all are going to ask for a shotgun for Christmas,” Alton chuckled. I seriously doubted that. When I opened my eyes, he was making his way Right: The Giles sisters enjoy toward me. breakfast on the He ran through the same checklist he had with Kristina. Load porch of their tent. the ammo with the shiny side facing you. Lean forward, and place the butt of the gun in the crook of your shoulder, not your bicep—that’ll leave a nasty bruise. Take a deep breath. Close one eye, and follow the clay. Pull the trigger at the highest point. In theory, I knew exactly what to do, and yet, when he asked if I was ready, I couldn’t help but hesitate.

I tightened my vise-like grip on the barrel to the point that all of the color in my knuckles began to vanish.

“Ready,” I said.

I didn’t even realize I’d pulled the trigger when I heard the shot echo.

—Alton Clark “Just under!” he exclaimed. I couldn’t care less how close I was. I’d just shot a gun.

I glanced around to make sure I hadn’t maimed anyone, and to my surprise, everything appeared just as it had before I pulled the trigger. This is what I had been scared of for so long?

For the next 45 minutes, we took turns busting clays. Kristina seemed to have outgrown her reputation as a bad shot, and I hit This page: Most

of the rodeo competitors are younger than 25; inside the luxury glamping tents

the end “ b ofy this, you

all are going to ask for a shotgun for christmas. ”

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Serendipitously, the other activity I had nightmares about was queued up right after skeet shooting. I never understood why people would climb atop a 1,000-pound animal and call it relaxing, but supposedly, the rhythm of horseback riding can be calming for some people. I’m not some people.

For a moment, I considered trying to convince Kristina to just go back to the cabin. I mean, we were 15 minutes late, and I had already faced one fear that morning. Two seemed like a tall order. But before I had a chance to suggest it, she was speeding us toward the barn on the other side of the ranch.

My sister, being 6 feet tall and all legs, was assigned the biggest horse in the line, Patrick. “He’s one of the stars of the rodeo tomorrow night,” said the woman helping her saddle up.

“Oh, he must be really well behaved then!” Kristina said, thankful she got the good horse.

“Not really,” the woman chuckled back. Kristina threw a worried look my way.

Just behind her, I swung my leg over Tank, a muscular brown steed with a seahorse-shaped white patch between his eyes.

Why did I have to get the one named Tank? Patrick sounded like an old friend you might invite to a dinner party. Tank? Not so much.

The trail was beginner-friendly and offered sweeping views of the prairie and ranchland that surrounded us. The new luxe Conestoga wagon accommodations stood in a line along the

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ISTOCK /NJMCC

Home on the Range

WESTGATE RIVER R ANCH

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pond, their reflections shimmering on the surface.

The guides had told us this was a walking trail, no galloping allowed. They didn’t need to tell Tank and me twice. We were both happy to go at a leisurely pace, one that would force the rest of the group to stop and wait for us every few minutes.

Tank was unbothered. If he was going to be forced to parade me around the ranch, he was going to do it on his own schedule.

Patrick, on the other hand, was showing Kristina his true colors. The stud was much more interested in flirting with the horses grazing out in the field than listening to her. The tranquil sounds of Tank’s hooves clopping on the ground like a metronome and the wind rustling the nearby tree branches were interrupted by Kristina’s pleading. “Come on, Patrick. Let’s go, Patrick. Please, Patrick.” Who did this city slicker think she was, bossing around the rodeo star?

Watching her negotiate with Patrick made me all the more grateful for Tank. Some scientists say that horses can sense human emotions. Tank must have sensed that I was shaking in my boots, because he seemed to do everything he could to put me at ease. A gentle pull on his reins made him come to a halt, and a slight squeeze to the sides sent him back to a casual stroll.

Lulled into a state of calm, I wondered about the land around me. What was now spacious fenced-in prairies for the ranch’s cattle, horses and bison used to be home to America’s first cowboys. When English and American settlers began moving into Florida in the 1700s, they quickly took advantage of the vast herds of roaming cattle left behind by the Spanish. These settlers would herd the cattle with 10- to 12-foot braided ropes, which let out a sharp “crack” when snapped in the air. Thus, the terms “cracker cattle” and “cracker cowboys” were born.

The land where River Ranch sits, about an hour south of Orlando, used to serve as a meeting place of sorts for the early cowboys. There, they’d merge their herds into one large group to bring them to market. Some cattle drives were 2,000 strong.

River Ranch, built in the 1960s, was originally meant to be the centerpiece of a massive development project called River Ranch Acres, but instead, it transformed into the largest dude ranch east of the Mississippi.

Some of the amenities are less than authentic. Glampers can choose to sleep in a luxury “teepee,” while a stoic Native American statue guards the mini-golf course at the adventure park. But while elements of the resort can feel a bit gimmicky at times (the shop sells bedazzled belt buckles the size of your head), it’s a far cry from the theme Right: Kristina and Jessica Giles hang parks and arcades up the road in out around the luxury Orlando. The land the ranch sits on “teepees.” is undeniably storied. If you spend Shopping Details: Clothing and more time exploring on horseback accessories by or embarking on a swamp buggy Penelope T.

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ho did this city “ W slicker think she

was, bossing around the rodeo star? ”

—Jessica Giles

out into the prairie than you do on the mechanical bull at the saloon, then you’re awarded a glimpse of real Old Florida, with its cracker cattle sloshing through waterlogged prairies, oak trees dripping Spanish moss and alligators gliding lazily on the surface of the Kissimmee River.

This is the Florida I see as Tank trots beneath the dense branches of oak trees: A Florida I wouldn’t have had the chance to see if I’d given into my apprehension and gone back to the cabin. By the end of the ride I was cooing to Tank like I do my puppy. “Good boy, Tank. Nice job!”

ten Feet Tall and Bulletproof

The resort’s biggest claim to fame is its Saturday-night rodeo.

By then, I had already dirtied most of my clothes, thanks to the swamp buggy, an airboat ride, archery and the unforgiving Florida heat. I settled on a pair of clean jeans and my “Pretty as a Peach” T-shirt. (Peaches are Southern, right?). I even made a trip to the on-site Western Store to snag my own cowboy hat, hoping it would give me a little street cred.

The 1,200-seat arena reminded me of the old speedway my dad used to take us to for demolition derbies. Nothing glitzy about it, just sturdy metal bleachers that rumbled like thunder when the crowd stomped their feet in anticipation. Beside us, a whole gang of little cowgirls no older than 10 squealed with excitement. One of them stomped on Kristina’s fingers so hard with her sparkly pink boots that my sister teared up.

What little I knew about rodeos I learned from a Nicholas Sparks movie, so I wasn’t sure reality would live up to the Hollywood picture in my head. The general manager of the ranch, Ray Duncan, welcomed the crowd to the longest-running Saturday-night rodeo in the United States, his thick

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Southern drawl echoing through the loudspeakers. Whichever bull rider could hang on to his bucking bovine the longest, after the minimum of eight seconds, would walk away with a sizable purse and major bragging rights.

The Westgate rodeo doesn’t make you wait for the exhilarating stuff. The first event is the main event: bull riding.

“You’ve gotta be 10 feet tall and bulletproof to do this, folks,” Duncan said. No kidding. The first athlete out of the gate was tall, thin and writhing on top of a white bull splattered with black. He was tossed from his perch after only three seconds, scampering away before he got a chest full of hooves.

What struck me more than the death-defying stunts unfolding in front of me were the young faces of those risking it all on the back of a bull. Most of the competitors are no older than 25, Duncan told us later. Even some of the cowboys responsible for roping the bulls after they ejected their riders looked fresh out of high school.

Kristina and I didn’t know enough about the rules of a rodeo to have a favorite rider, but when Duncan announced that the next contestant was from Deltona, not far from our hometown of DeLand, we cheered extra loud.

The guy got thrown off before the eight seconds ticked by.

The night was filled with close calls. Competitors getting tossed off only for the bull to whip around and go at them with its horns, rodeo clowns narrowly escaping a body slam from the bull by jumping up onto the fence and athletes just inches away from being pummeled by their bovines.

After two rounds of riding, no one had managed to hang on for the eight-second minimum. The bulls walked away with a win, and my blood pressure began to make its way back to normal. My emotions teetered between fear, excitement, dread and exhilaration all night. Once I thought about it, I realized that it had been going on the whole trip.

I had spent much of my time at Westgate River Ranch feeling uncomfortable. Some might argue that is the very antithesis of what vacation should be, and yet, it was that discomfort that defined the most memorable parts of my stay.

The temptation to hurl when I first held the shotgun was replaced with pride when I saw the orange clay shatter. My white-knuckled grip on Tank’s reins gave way to a sense of awe at the landscape around me. In fact, the River Ranch had been such a rewarding escape, not in spite of these fear-conquering moments, but because of them. Not only did every experience bring me face-to-face with Old Florida, but each one taught me something new about myself.

Perhaps the best trip is not always the most laid-back or luxurious. Sometimes it’s the one that makes us queasy—the one that demands we hold on for eight seconds of pure adrenaline—that truly changes and recharges us.

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By MONI BASU // Illustration by JENNA ALEXANDER

Dixie Highway may one day lose its name, but the town it left behind tells a story of little-known Florida.

ROAD LESS TRAVELED

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Above: The Ancient

Spanish Monastery stands along the original route of the Dixie Highway in Miami Beach.

Right: A vintage

postcard of the Dixie Highway circa 1920

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ast year, before the pandemic stole our way of being, Flamingo sent me to South Florida to report a story about veterans. As I made my way to Lighthouse Point, I found myself snarled in traffic at a busy intersection. I looked up to see a road sign that made me sit up and take notice: Dixie Highway.

Perhaps I should not have been surprised. I had, after all, spent most of my formative years in the South. My father began teaching at Florida State University in 1975, and I realized quickly, in my Tallahassee school, the impermeable chasms that existed between Blacks and whites, even though we never spoke of them in any of my classes. My social science teacher was a white woman who changed my brother Shantanu’s name to Bob so that she could pronounce it more easily, hardly a woman who taught us a true history of the South. In her defense, no school curriculum likely included Black or indigenous history back then.

I did not learn about the American legacy of slavery and genocide until much later, when, as a college student, I joined the Center for Participant Education at FSU. In the late 1970s and early ’80s, the Center formed a thriving Berkeley-style free school that promoted underrepresented voices of America. I understood then the void in white America’s understanding of the past.

Still, on that recent day in South Florida, I found myself confounded by the Dixie Highway sign. The name was jarring, and equally so was the fact that it still existed amid a bustling Broward County metropolis. At once, the name conjured history and hatred in my mind.

In subsequent weeks, I read about the attempts to remove “Dixie” from the name of State Road 811. Just like Dolly Parton scratched it off an attraction at her theme park, and the Nashville girl band became just the Chicks, and how Dixie State University in Utah decided to change its name, too.

I sense, or rather, hope, it won’t be too long before “Dixie” is gone from Florida. In some places, this expunction has already begun. Back in 2015, a stretch of Dixie Highway in Riviera Beach was renamed President Barack Obama Highway.

In 2021, Coral Gables announced its portion of the Dixie

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Highway would become Harriet Tubman Highway. But before “Dixie” disappears from the names of public places and, with them, our psyches, it’s imperative that we fully comprehend the history of the iconic highway, which today runs parallel to U.S. 1 and Interstate 95 in South Florida. There is a story behind almost every name, and I grew intent to learn about the origins of this particular highway.

Where did it begin? And end? And why that name?

Now, on this August day, as summer defies quitting with the force of the Delta variant, I have arrived at a place that offers explanation. It’s a place that is hard to find, hard to traverse, hard to know. It’s been called a ghost town, but that is not the truth. Ask the 300 or so people who call this place home. They receive mail in boxes adorned with dolphins. Some yards boast Trump signs. One even has an old scrapyard plane displayed as an ornament on a tree. But, yes, it’s a place masked in obscurity, one that warrants only four short sentences on its Wikipedia page.

I have come to Espanola, about an hour south of Jacksonville and 20 minutes west of the Atlantic. This is where faint traces of the past remain, though they, too, are prone to erasure.

The damp air of the morning is as thick as the North Florida scrub pine and palm that surround me. No signs direct travelers to the road I am in search of. Nor do any inform them of its pivotal role in the making of this state.

There is, however, a warning: “Travel at your own risk.”

And another prohibiting the removal of the bricks in the road.

Doing so, it says, warrants prosecution “to the fullest extent of the law.”

That serves as the only indication, really, of the significance of this road, a stretch of the Old Dixie Highway, the historical precursor to the four lanes of asphalt I saw in South Florida.

What exists today is about an 11-mile stretch that runs from Espanola, here in Flagler County, to Hastings in St. Johns County; it comprises the longest remaining part of the original Dixie Highway in Florida. Rightly, it was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2005.

“It’s one of the oldest roads in America,” historian and author Bill Ryan told me. He also called the lands through which it weaves and winds “the wildest territory you are ever

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This is where faint traces of the past remain, though they, too, are prone to erasure. — Moni Basu

STATE ARCHIVES OF FLORIDA; VEC TORSTOCK .COM

going to see in Florida.”

Folks in these parts of Flagler know it as the Old Brick Road. For good reason. Before me are rows and rows of vitrified bricks, manufactured by the Graves Shale Brick Company in Birmingham, Alabama, belonging to a slave-owning man who fought for the Confederacy. It took 237,600 such bricks to build just 1 mile of road, 9 feet wide. They are the same bricks that paved the streets of St. Augustine.

“They were practically indestructible,” said Ryan, who also serves as a director of the Flagler County Historical Society, in a

brief history lesson he’d given me over the phone.

I see that now. More than a century after they were laid, many of them still lie embedded atop a packed-shell foundation, peeking through the years of dirt and debris that settled once the road was abandoned. I am eager to begin travelling into the woods, into the past.

I stand where the remnants of the Old Dixie Highway end in Espanola and the words of a Rudyard Kipling poem flood my mind: They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago.

Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods

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true south

Above: An illustration

of the old post office in Espanola.

Below: A 1929

postcard depicting the Dixie Highway along the Indian River

STATE ARCHIVES OF FLORIDA

Before I headed to Espanola to drive what survives of the original Dixie Highway, I stopped at the home of Randy Jaye, a self-made historian in Flagler Beach. I wanted to learn more about Espanola, beyond how history portrays it as the town that rose and fell with a brick road.

Jaye grew up in Pennsylvania surrounded by Philadelphia, Valley Forge and Gettysburg. Those places, he said, instilled in him a hunger for history.

He had made a go of it for a while in Los Angeles as a business systems functional consultant and moved to Orlando 28 years ago. Eventually, he tired of traffic and tumult in the big city and settled in 2012 with his wife, Linda, in quieter Flagler Beach, where, as he said, he could reclaim a better quality of life. He’s long been retired, and in his spare time, he has taken

up the mantle of documenting a past that he fears might be lost forever.

In May 2017, Jaye self-published a history of Flagler County to commemorate its centennial. As soon as it appeared on Amazon, he had a realization.

“It was almost 100 percent white,” Jaye said. “I felt like I missed the boat.”

So, he set out to rectify his oversight with a second book that tells the Black history of Flagler County, a book that examines the county as a microcosm of the segregated South.

In Perseverance: Episodes of Black History from the Rural South, Jaye tells the story of the other side of the tracks.

That a white man should write this seemed odd to me. Jaye recognizes his work to be that of an outsider, and later in the day, over lunch at the Chicken Pantry in nearby Bunnell, longtime resident Daisy Henry told me, “It’s a good book, but he didn’t tell it all.”

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Henry has lived in the same house most of her 74 years. She raised her children by herself, ministered to a faithful flock through Spirit of Truth Outreach and even served on the city commission in Bunnell, a few miles southeast of Espanola.

“You know, the way we were treated and all,” she said between nibbles of fried chicken, apple sauce and French fries.

“You mean how Blacks were treated as second-class citizens,” Jaye replied.

“Oh, no. Way worse than that,” Henry said. “This county here was one of the last ones to integrate. … You have to accept there are some things you can’t change.”

Still, I respected Jaye for trying to tell the story of the place that surrounded the Dixie Highway. Aside from a few oral histories and published interviews with residents of Espanola and nearby Bunnell, very little writing exists that tells of Black life here. Even in many of the historical documents I perused, there is hardly any mention of how America’s new infrastructure affected poor Black families, who often found themselves disenfranchised, discriminated against and in deep debt in a post-Reconstruction South.

“A lot of that history is suppressed to this day,” Jaye said.

He, like myself and many Americans, grew up not knowing the true stories of Florida, of the South: stories of Black and brown experiences in a white-ruled America. The story of Espanola is among them. Jaye’s research was a journey of discovery that turned into efforts to preserve Black heritage.

The Espanola Schoolhouse, for instance, is the last standing one-room schoolhouse in Flagler County. In its time, it was the only school in Espanola for Black children, built by the community with money earned selling peanuts and ice cream, according to the National Conference of State Historic Preservation Officers. It didn’t have running water or an indoor bathroom, but within its humble walls, Black children could get an education. In the 1950s, some walked several miles from neighboring Neoga and Bimini to attend classes with Essie Mae Giddens, the school’s only full-time teacher, Jaye said.

Essie Mae died in 2003, but her husband, the Rev. Frank Giddens, proudly told me that at 90, he is the oldest person in Espanola. The son of sharecroppers said his parents settled here because it was one of the few places back then where Black people could own land. He was 19 when he helped pour the foundation of the Espanola Schoolhouse.

Many of the area’s Black schools were torn down and no longer stand as reminders of segregation. But the one in Espanola, Jaye said, was privately owned and therefore somewhat protected from county actions.

Jaye succeeded last year in placing the vernacular-style

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Left: An outline of the

original route of the Dixie Highway, which ran as far north as the Canadian border and as far south as Miami

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building on the National Register of Historic Places, the first place of Black heritage from Flagler County to receive such recognition. He is currently involved in efforts to raise money for repairs and renovations to the 71-year-old building, which is now home to the St. Paul Youth Center, run by the St. Paul Missionary Baptist Church.

Giddens has lived his long life in a house not far from the Dixie Highway. He was born after the highway had been rerouted but he, like Jaye, can tell stories about Espanola’s heyday a century ago.

During my visit, Jaye suggested we drive together in his red Chrysler. The Old Brick Road is rough—better not to jostle through in my ground-hugging Mini Cooper, I thought. I accepted his offer, and with Linda in tow in the back seat, we made our way to Espanola.

gateway to florida

Above: Sherrard’s

Dixie Belle Inn in Miami used to serve up grub to hungry travelers.

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We begin the journey bumpety-bump. Over potholes—blame hulking lumber trucks that hurtle down this historic road— and mounds of dirt and bricks that were baked for three days in an oven and survived a century of neglect. There is nothing around us now but the oaks and the pines and the palms. And the Spanish moss drooping from branches like mourners’ lace.

Once, this road connected America’s Midwest to the South, widely known then as Dixie. It wasn’t like the interstate system that eventually made it obsolete, but instead contained a series of local roads that snaked from Sault Ste. Marie, where northern Michigan kisses the Canadian border, down to Miami.

The brainchild of millionaire entrepreneur Carl Fisher, the Dixie Highway was the gateway to Florida when it first opened in 1915. There was an eastern route and a western route through the state in order to connect a larger number of communities.

In addition to the Flagler stretch, another small portion of the eastern route still exists today in Maitland as a walking trail around Lake Lily. The original bricks were covered up with asphalt in the 1960s, but uncovered and restored in 1998, according to the historical marker erected there.

When the Dixie Highway was completed, more than 5,000 miles of roads wove 10 states together. Some wanted to call it “The Hoosierland to Dixie Road,” according to an article

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published in The Atlanta Constitution in December 1914.

Still others suggested “The Lakes to the Gulf” branch of the Lincoln Highway and “The Cotton Belt Route.” But what stuck was “Dixie Highway.”

Multiple explanations of the rise of the word “Dixie” exist, but many historians link the term to the Mason-Dixon line, the territorial border between Pennsylvania and Maryland that separated free-soil states from Confederate states. Its popularity is also attributed to the song “Dixie,” written by Daniel Decatur Emmett in 1859, which was widely regarded as the Confederate anthem. When construction on the highway began, it had been only 50 years since the end of the Civil War, and the Confederacy still festered in people’s minds. Promoters of this shiny new road wanted to paint a picture of a kinder South that beckoned.

By then, the Ford Motor Company had changed American transportation with its revolutionary Model T. Thousands of wealthy Americans flocked to Florida in their cars.

During the Florida land boom in 1925, some 7,000 people entered Florida each day, writes Christopher Knowlton in Bubble in the Sun: The Florida Boom of the 1920s and How It Brought on the Great Depression. They saw not the darkness of Jim Crow but their dreams shimmering in the swamps and surf of the Sunshine State.

Historians credit the Dixie Highway with building cities like Miami Beach, West Palm Beach and Hialeah, though it’s important to remember that by then, what’s known as the Great Migration, the exodus of six million Black people from Southern states to the North and West, had already begun. Between 1916 and 1920, 40,000 Black people left North Florida. A few of them migrated to South Florida, but most fled the South (on trains, which were much cheaper than cars) even as traffic going the other way got heavy on the Dixie Highway.

Little Espanola prospered. It had a hotel, a post office, a dry goods store, a grocery, a barber shop and camping grounds for vacationers. They were known as tin-can tourists—either because Model Ts were nicknamed “Tin Lizzies,” because of the metal campers they towed or maybe even for the tinned food they ate on their dayslong travels. Ryan, the historian, described the Espanola of the early 1920s as the Disney World of its time.

But as fast as the land boom came, it disappeared. The Roaring ’20s gave way to the Great Depression, and the new road to South Florida, U.S. 1, bypassed Espanola altogether.

“It used to be a real town,” said Ryan, the Flagler County historian. “But when they relocated U.S. 1, it kind of disappeared.

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STATE ARCHIVES OF FLORIDA

Espanola isn’t there anymore.”

Except that it is. For people like Frank Giddens, Espanola has remained a constant. Around here, Blacks and whites still live in segregated communities and carry vastly different memories of the past.

The schoolhouse for Black children that Giddens helped

that Randy Jaye’s Chrysler dares to traverse on this late summer day. It’s hard to imagine that this single-lane brick road served as a model for the maze of sophisticated highways and roads that would come to hold America together one day. I gaze toward the horizon that looms over the bricks from Birmingham. This was the road that helped make Florida what it is today, even though it died young and buried with it many a dream.

I sensed that the people who still call Espanola home prefer the road just the way it is: a relic, a part of the past that they believe is destined to stay that way.

Nearby, the vast planned communities of Palm Coast threaten to gobble their way toward Espanola. Who knows if developers and politicians will one day find the Old Dixie Highway as abhorrent as its name? And then, perhaps, it will vanish altogether.

Above: A vintage

postcard of an orange grove along the Dixie Highway

They saw not the darkness of Jim Crow but their dreams shimmering in the swamps and surf. — Moni Basu build still sits a stone’s throw from the road that might have made this town something, that put this place on the map.

Until the road was replaced and forgotten. As was Espanola.

I take in what’s left of the Dixie Highway, or at least the sliver

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shot

o the

dark

By STEVE DOLLAR Photography by MARK WALLHEISER

A group of preservationists and community members hope to save the tattered shotgun houses, passed down for generations, that define Apalachicola’s Black culture and historic neighborhood

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PREVIOUS SPREAD: STATE ARCHIVES OF FLORIDA

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et us now praise the humble shotgun house.

On a sweltering afternoon in Apalachicola, a man named Creighton Brown guides me onto the porch of one such house. If either of us had a shotgun––which we don’t, by the way––he could pull the trigger and send pellets flying through the open front door clean through the back. Thus the nickname, which handily describes one of the most distinctive forms of Southern vernacular architecture. Brown, a former historic preservation specialist whose superlative handiwork graces Carnegie Hall, the New York Public Library and the Brooklyn Bridge, has in recent years turned his attention to these modest wooden cottages. He and his wife Holly, a former TV news producer, moved to Apalachicola nine years ago to make their retirement home.

In 2016, they co-founded Save Our Shotguns, a nonprofit

In this town, there were white people, Greeks, Italians and Blacks. ...

The Greeks and Italians weren’t quite white yet.

original tiny house, minimalist before minimalism was cool. The homes first proliferated in the early 1800s, most notably in New Orleans—where enslaved Africans and immigrant Haitians constructed the dwellings—as well as in other ports of call along the Gulf of Mexico, from Houston to Mobile to Key West, and across the South.

No greater Southern icon than Elvis Presley was born in a shotgun house, — Willie Tolliver built by his father, Vernon, in Tupelo, Mississippi, for $180—equivalent to about $3,500 in today’s dollars.

In Apalachicola, shotgun houses have been essential to the African-American community for two centuries. Today, they symbolize the hope of maintaining affordable housing for locals and the cultural fabric of a city at This page from left: The sun sets on risk of trading its history and heart for gentrification.

Apalachicola; Bernard The city sits 75 miles south of Tallahassee, where Florida’s Simmons inside his refurbished shotgun Panhandle dips farthest into the Gulf. Its balmy, salt-air charm house on Avenue L in is instantaneously apparent. With a population of only 2,410 Apalachicola

volunteer organization that works to restore and preserve the dilapidated houses.

This particular shotgun, one among dozens of the 19th-century structures that still stand in town, is worn down. It’s owned by Brown’s friend and fellow preservation volunteer, Peter Gallant, who uses it for storage. There’s a fix-up somewhere in the future, but the old house still illustrates what makes its construction desirable. The layout ensures cooling airflow in swampy climates, with a strong cross breeze, even if, as superstition has it, a ghost might come along for the ride. The compact home, built from old-growth longleaf pine, expresses a rooted sense of place and purpose. “It’s not a good house to build in upstate New York,” Brown says. “They were designed for here.”

An elemental design of the coastal South, the shotgun is the

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people, Apalachicola emanates a small-town feel, and it prides itself on preserving an array of elegant historic structures; it touts hundreds of 19th-century homes in its historic district, which evokes the antebellum era of Old Florida largely erased by developers and hurricanes. It’s also where you can gaze upon a replica of Dr. John Gorrie’s revolutionary invention of 1851, the ice machine, at the museum and park created in his honor.

Just as famous is Apalachicola’s uniquely flavorful namesake oyster, harvested from Apalachicola Bay, which once yielded 10 percent of the country’s oyster supply and now provides none. An industry decimated by an ugly confluence of factors, oyster harvesting has been banned in Apalachicola Bay through 2025. Nonetheless, Apalachicola’s weathered docks and oyster bars offer an appropriately brackish backdrop for tourist selfies, and the streets of the postage-stamp downtown are crowded with visitors flip-flopping their way from souvenir emporiums to ice cream parlors to the town’s homegrown Oyster City Brewery, where on a random pre-pandemic afternoon someone might hear a German or French accent amid the drawls and y’alls. That tourism has become the primary driver of the local economy, which has suffered not only from the decline of oystering, but from hurricanes and the COVID-19 pandemic.

These families were close. They had to be, living in such small dwellings. People loved each other, they respected each other.

— Bernard Simmons

Mold e ri ng B on e s

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Apalachicola’s seesawing fortunes may have no more apt representation than the city’s dozens of shotgun houses. They dot the streets of the Hill––or the Hillside community––a once-bustling, traditionally African-American neighborhood that covers more than 60 blocks between 12th and Market streets and avenues E and M. Only a few minutes’ walk from downtown’s tropical rainbow of kitsch and quaint, the Hill has a checkerboard feel, with a mix of new, old, renovated and historic construction. What at first appear to be vacant lots overtaken by lush, overgrown thickets of foliage actually harbor the moldering bones of shotgun houses. Elsewhere sit vegetable gardens, churches and clusters of

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shotgun houses in every sort of condition. Some are well-kept, but many are falling apart; there’s at least one contemporary build based on the classic design. The originals were first built when Apalachicola was a regional timber capital after the Civil War, home to multiple sawmills that shipped lumber out on the Apalachicola River and eventually the railroad. The shotguns housed the Black workers employed by the sawmills and the seafood industry.

Above: Inside one of

the old, dilapidated shotgun houses on Avenue L in Apalachicola; shotgun houses on Florida’s Gulf Coast in 1927

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With so much of its rich civic lore carefully memorialized and monetized, Apalachicola has successfully branded its past, but the future of its shotgun houses has become a greater concern in recent years.

Once common but later disparaged as an undesirable vestige of poverty, shotguns nationwide have been reclaimed both as trendy, historical real estate and as potential locations for urban renewal and affordable housing. In Apalachicola, the homes sit at a sociocultural juncture between the town’s vital African-American history, rising real estate values and an influx of Northern transplants, drawn by the town’s coastal mystique, who are snapping up lots for their retirement homes.

“I’m just trying to save my own,” says Bernard Simmons, a professional blues guitarist whose heroes include Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker, as he sits on the porch of his shotgun house, a property held in his family for decades. As the sun sets, the streets are quiet, save for the occasional golf cart that putters by, a popular mode of local transportation. Simmons’ remodeled shotgun stands out as one of the more inviting homes, with its bright yellow exterior and porch full of plants. Simmons, who grew up in the Hill, remembers a more prosperous time for the neighborhood. “There was a closeness. These families were close. They had to be, living in such small dwellings. People loved each other, they

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respected each other.”

Simmons, whose front room testifies to his musical endeavors with a drum kit and various guitars, says he doesn’t mind change, as long as it’s in concert with the surroundings. “Don’t build a mansion so big and expensive it’s going to put me in a different tax bracket.”

Valentina Webb, a former Apalachicola city commissioner and chairwoman of the Apalachicola Center for History, Culture and Art, draws an important distinction. “We had no choice but to live in those homes,” Webb says. “They had no choice. They couldn’t afford to live in the big antebellum homes that we have here.”

Under segregation, Black residents had no option but to create an alternate social and economic system, of which the shotgun houses were the backbone.

“The Black community in this town had to become pretty much self-sufficient,” says Willie Tolliver, an Apalachicola native who grew up in the Hill in the 1950s before making a career out of politics and academia and retiring from a professorship at the Silberman School of Social Work at Hunter College in New York City. “When I — Valentina Webb was growing up here, there was strong commerce.”

Tolliver, who moved back into his childhood home last year, recalls a district with a general store, a mortuary, a cleaner’s, a grocer who also sold gasoline and Black taxi drivers navigating streets of sand, “because we had no cars.” The city neglected the Hill, Tolliver remembers. “Notwithstanding the fact that people paid taxes.

I don’t remember having but maybe one or two paved streets when I was a child here.”

That did nothing to stall the nightlife. “Lots of juke joints,” Tolliver continues. “The Blue Goose, Flat Top, the 2 Spot. The 2 Spot wasn’t open when I was a child. It’s just a big building that’s for sale now. It was built by George Demo, who had a liquor store downtown for white people. George himself was Greek. That’s interesting, too. In this town, there were white people, Greeks, Italians and Blacks. That was the population.

The Greeks and Italians weren’t quite white yet.”

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Valentina Webb oversees elder care services at the Holy Family Senior Center.

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PREVIOUS SPREAD: STATE ARCHIVES OF FLORIDA

I know people see homelessness as people living on the street, but homelessness is living in a home in the grandmother’s name.

Se pa r at e but not e q ual

Segregation meant separate seating for whites and “colored” patrons at the Dixie Theatre downtown, racially distinct sections of the hospital and separate educational opportunities. Tolliver attended the Holy Family Mission School, a Catholic school for Black children founded by an order of Black nuns from New Orleans. The Spanish-style building sits at 203 Dr. Frederick S. Humphries St., a street renamed for one of its best-known graduates, the former Florida A&M University president who died in June.

“It was affirming, growing up in a space where my teachers looked like me,” Tolliver says, “and they actually expected a lot of me.”

The school opened in 1929 after nine years of construction and closed in 1964. Since 2012, the historic site has found new purpose as a senior center, another reflection of changing demographics in a town beloved of retirees, where so much of the past is always present.

“A town like Apalachicola is not going to be a tech hub, thank God. What it’s got is cultural heritage tourism,” says John Marshall, whose father was the late Apalachicola architect and historic preservationist Willoughby Marshall. The younger Marshall is a law professor at Georgia State University in Atlanta. He did revitalization work in New Orleans after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. “Certainly, on the Hill, the town could and should support redevelopment of more [historic properties] as affordable housing. When you’re looking for the future, you need to look at what the past has given us.”

Save Our Shotguns has promoted the shotguns as one solution to affordable housing needs. The group has held a pair of symposiums with housing, planning and architectural experts; hosts video testimonials on its website; and puts considerable effort into plans to train residents in restoration and construction skills as well as credit improvement. Those plans ran into a

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Above: Patrons dine outside at Tamara’s Cafe on Market Street downtown, a stark contrast to the Hill neighborhood. Below: The Holy Family Mission School,

historically a Black school, now serves the neighborhood’s elderly.

number of issues. Although properties on the Hill were passed down from one generation to the next, deeds were not always updated, inviting a host of complications with bank loans and insurance.

“I know people see homelessness as people living on the street, but homelessness is living in a home in the grandmother’s name,” says former Commissioner Webb.

Where multiple historic shotguns share a single 60- by 100-foot lot, it was suggested that owners could rent out the other houses to offset their own mortgages. But modern zoning laws don’t allow that when a house has been vacant for more than six months.

“They’re so easy to build, you know. It’s obviously not a center-hall colonial,” says Creighton Brown. “When they wanted to have affordable housing, this is what they built.” Brown and his friends proved the point by constructing a new two-bedroom shotgun house based on an original structure that had been torn down, repurposing its wooden columns for the decorative front porch. The 2017 house, valued at $178,000, was sold for $125,000 to the winner of a lottery who met residency, income (under $50,000) and mortgage pre-qualification requirements: a white employee of the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. “Now they’re selling houses like that for $300,000,” says Creighton Brown.

For now, the group is doing what it can, where it can, repairing and replacing roofs for shotgun residents at no cost. Plans to save a row of shotguns on Eighth Street in the Hill were thwarted by red tape. “They want each resident to have a full-sized lot,” Brown explains, “but that rule wasn’t in place when people built their houses. We’re trying to stick a new zoning rule into

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Above from left: Bernard

Simmons, center, talks with Creighton and Holly Brown in front of four shotgun houses in various stages of being refurbished on Eighth Street in Apalachicola; Creighton Brown outside Simmons’ refurbished shotgun house; a pair of shotgun houses in Apalachicola circa 1986

a neighborhood that wasn’t built that way.” The lot and structures have been sold and are due for renovation. However, the rents will likely be set at market rate. “We gave it a valiant effort,” says Holly Brown. “It was just such a battle.”

A Fut ur e Up i Grab s

On the site of a former high school, construction is underway on Denton Cove, a 52-unit multifamily housing development for low-income residents, after years of legal tussles.

The controversial project goes against the practice of scattered-site housing, in which low-income properties are dispersed throughout neighborhoods, an approach preferred by affordable housing advocates like the Browns and others.

“What’s nice about the shotguns in Apalachicola is they exist and they present an opportunity to do something that is very difficult to do nowadays if you were to start from square one,” says Carey Shea, a retired community development professional and activist who formerly ran Home by Hand, an affordable housing nonprofit in New Orleans.

“We should not have all micro-units or tiny homes, but I believe the point they have made is that there are people for whom this is a really good option, and it’s a very affordable option,” Marshall says, “and even better it’s part of the fabric of the history of the town.”

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Can the shotgun houses play as important a role in Apalachicola’s future as they have in its past? The answer is up for grabs.

“If people are going to come in and buy lots and build more expensive houses, then make sure that the people who are here can still afford to be here and that they’re encouraged to be here, instead of pushing everybody out and taking it over,” says Creighton Brown. It’s a summer afternoon, and he’s manning a table at a small downtown farmers market in front of Bee Inspired Too, a boutique that sells organic handmade products.

Tourists drift by or pause. A retirement-age couple. A group of collegiate women. They check out the homegrown vegetables from the Browns’ garden and Holly’s bread loaves. “There’s a strong feeling on the Hill of many people that want to preserve it as an African-American neighborhood. It’s strong, but it needs help. It needs financial encouragement to make that happen,” Creighton Brown says.

Brenda Ash, a former city commissioner who became Apalachicola’s new mayor in June after the sudden death of her predecessor Kevin Begos, also stresses the need for preservation. “We have the retirees, we are blessed that they’ve chosen the charm of Apalachicola,” she says. “But on the flipside, the gentrification that is going on in the Hillside community is sad, because if we don’t already own property, then that generational wealth is lost.” Ash, who grew up on the Hill, raised children as a single mother and sent them to college, would like to see an affordable housing plan that also keeps the workforce in mind. “Those working-class individuals that make too much to

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man who gathered them from the sawmills. She worked as a be low-income and not enough to be middle-class, or, at that maid earning $3 a day. Tolliver’s father worked for the Sheip top level, to be able to afford a house … they just fall through Lumber Company, until it closed in the late 1940s, and later the gaps. Until we find that solution, we’re going to continue the St. Joe Paper Company. As to struggle.”

I look around, noting photoThis summer, Webb proposed graphs on the walls, and listen that Apalachicola’s city council look as Tolliver describes his family’s into dedicating a parcel of land in the journey out of enslavement and town’s Sylvester Williams Park, named his own professional achieveafter her uncle, for new and conments, the context is framed temporary affordable housing. The for what local families face in shotgun houses, she says, “are beauApalachicola today. It’s difficult tiful and precious being restored” but for a working person to find a not a good fit for a large family, and house they can afford. There’s many are so damaged that restoration a job open for a new librarian, is more a labor of love than a practical for instance, that offers between endeavor. “You’re really working with $37,000 and $45,000 a year. “You a shell on some of them.” can’t buy a house here today with Webb’s idea was met with encourthat salary,” he says. agement. The town’s Community Having come full circle, Redevelopment Agency is considerTolliver suggests a people-powing a proposal to direct $150,000 in ered approach to finding solufunds toward upgrades to the park.

— Creighton Brown tions. “Let’s take a food truck, As reported in the Franklin County go around and do what they do News, some $145,000 was approved in New York where they have a for improvements at sites in the Hill. street party and have people sit on their porches and talk,” he Back in the living room of the home he grew up in, says. “Show them some ideas … and let them tell us what they Tolliver can remember when his mother cooked meals on a want to fix and how to get it done.” wood-burning stove, using wood scraps she bought from a

There’s a strong feeling on the Hill of many people that want to preserve it as an AfricanAmerican neighborhood.

It’s strong, but it needs help. It needs financial encouragement to make that happen.

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Above from left:

Shrimper Jeff Padgett next to his shrimp boat at Scipio Creek Marina. Apalachicola’s seafood industry has taken a big hit in recent years; Bernard Simmons outside his home on Avenue L in Apalachicola

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This spread: Deseret Cattle & Citrus is a

cow-calf operation founded in 1950 and covers 295,000 acres in Osceola, Brevard and Orange counties. The ranch uses a three-breed rotation system.

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Florida cattle ranchers hold fast to a 500-year-old American tradition that began in our state and is helping to save its remaining green spaces.

Cowboy

Country

By CRAIG PITTMAN // Photography by CARLTON WARD JR.

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ON a steamy August morning, as the temperature rose with the sun, Jim Strickland stood on a raised cypress board in a rugged cow pen at Blackbeard’s Ranch near Myakka City, looking down on a series of brown, black and reddish cows scooting through a cattle chute. They flickered by like images in a clattering movie projector.

Strickland, the ranch’s managing partner, wore a sweatstained cowboy hat, a once-white fishing shirt with the sleeves rolled up, rumpled jeans and old gray sneakers spattered with mud. As the cows trotted past him, the 66-year-old rancher kept count. On every second or third one, he squirted a spray that would keep away flies for a week or so. When some of the cows hesitated, he’d slap them on the rump or the back lightly, urging them to keep going.

“Go on, baby,” he said to one.

The fly spray and the gentle touch are just two of the ways he and his ranch hands try to relieve stress on their cattle to ensure they don’t worry off some of their weight. Think of it as New Age cowboying.

Between squirts, Strickland reminisced about the good old days, back when he would load a Boeing 747 full of cattle and fly them to customers in Guyana, Pakistan and Dubai. Nobody overseas ever knew what to make of him.

“I’d get on an elevator somewhere and someone would look at my cowboy hat and say, ‘Are you from Texas?’” he recalled. “And I’d say, ‘Texas?

What’s Texas? I’m from Florida, birthplace of the cattle industry in America!’”

Strickland was not exaggerating. In 1521, on Juan Ponce de León’s second trip to the land he’d named La Florida, the Spanish explorer brought along some Andalusian cattle, something never before seen in America.

When the Spaniard landed in Charlotte Harbor,

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his ship carried four heifers and a bull, along with 200 settlers. But Florida’s first conquistador didn’t stick around long enough to start a ranch. Calusa warriors attacked with a fusillade of arrows. One struck Ponce de León in the leg. It had apparently been dipped in the juice of the deadly manchineel tree. He died in Havana shortly afterward. The cattle, meanwhile, fled into the scrub.

From that inauspicious beginning grew an industry that did more than sustain the state’s economy throughout most of the 19th and 20th centuries. This year marks the 500th anniversary of cattle ranching in the United States. Historians say that ranching shaped the Florida we know today both geographically and culturally, boosting one-time cow towns like Arcadia, LaBelle and Kissimmee and cementing an attitude of independence and even a defiance of authority still around today.

Now ranchers like Strickland may be the ones who help save us from losing what’s left of the things that make Florida so special.

the first Vaquero

In movies and TV shows galore, the cowboy is an American icon—laconic, direct, a man of action. Think Marshal Matt Dillon and “The Lone Ranger,” Right: Cattle swirl in their Gary Cooper and “The Man pens waiting to be sorted for shipping at the Seminole with No Name.” In reality, the Tribe of Florida’s Big Cypress first cowboys were vaqueros Reservation. who spoke Spanish and tended Below: Cattle kick up dust cattle outside St. Augustine in the cow pens as Travis Brown drives them toward after its founding in 1565. As the parting shoot on Deseret Ranch in Osceola County. the Spanish spread through

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North Florida, they brought their cattle, establishing ranches and training the local Native Americans to tend the herds too.

Strickland can trace his ranching heritage back to just before the Civil War. “I’m sixth- or seventh-generation,” he said. “Everybody in my family has loved the cattle business.”

The first of his ancestors to go into ranching relocated here from Georgia around 1850, he said. Cattle ran wild in the woods back then, and anyone who could catch a few could become a rancher. Florida was mostly open-range, without fences, until fence laws were created in 1949 because tourists started colliding with cattle on the roads. Plenty of white settlers had already moved here to take advantage of that open range.

“They knew all those cattle were here—it was one of the things that drew them to Florida,” explained James M. Denham, a history professor at Florida Southern College and the author of A Rogue’s Paradise: Crime and Punishment in Antebellum Florida, 1821–1861. “If you had cattle, you had status.”

During the Civil War, some of the sharper Florida ranchers sold their beef to buyers on both sides. Afterward, they found customers in Cuba willing to pay for their steers with sacks of gold. There are stories that some ranchers raked in so much money from the Cuban trade that they used full sacks of gold as doorstops.

Strickland says his family never enjoyed such luxury. What they valued was the cowboy lifestyle—riding horses and roping cattle, working outdoors and communing with nature—so they stuck with it.

“We’re barely making ends meet here,” he said. “I’ve always been blessed to do what I love to do. I have literally traveled the world with my cattle.”

Cowboy to the core

In the old days, Florida ranchers trying to get their herds to market battled hurricanes, mosquitoes, bears, panthers, sinkholes and rustlers while driving thousands of cattle across the rugged landscape.

They were bound for ships docked in places like Tampa, Jacksonville and the long-gone community of Punta Rassa, near what’s now the Sanibel Causeway. They’d load the cows on sailing ships bound for other parts of the country or for Cuba, then celebrate with a trip to the nearest saloon or bordello.

These days, the life of Florida’s cowpokes is a tad easier.

After Strickland and his helpers finished culling the herd, they loaded some of the cattle onto a double-level trailer to go to a

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buyer who’s a repeat customer. The truck and trailer belonged to a man named William “Bushrod” Duncan from Arcadia.

Duncan wore a cowboy hat like Strickland, and, like Strickland, he’s the son of a cowboy. In the 1980s his father, Jack Duncan, was still riding and roping at age 67, which earned him a write-up in the Los Angeles Times. The paper quoted Jack Duncan saying folksy things such as, “If you can’t do it on a horse, it’s probably not worth doing.”

“He was a cowboy ’til the day he died,” Duncan said, his mellow voice carrying a strong country twang. “He worked all day, came home and ate supper, laid down on the couch and passed away.” His father was 72 at the time of his fatal heart attack.

Duncan, 66, started out chasing cattle through the woods with his father, but then injured himself during a rodeo.

“When I hurt my back, I just quit cowboying and took up driving a truck,” he said. “It was easier on my back. … I’m still a cowboy to the core. I just can’t ride [horses] like I used to.”

Duncan has watched with sadness the decline of Florida’s cattle industry as, one by one, the ranchers sell off their property. He understands why they do it.

“Them developers come in and offer you five times what it’s worth,” he said, “and people who’ve worked hard all their lives, that’s hard to turn down.”

Some ranchers do the developing themselves. Right now, the biggest land owner in the state is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Church officials are already planning for the future development of some of their Deseret Ranch, situated near the headwaters of the St. Johns River.

The scale of development proposed there, without significant conservation, could seriously degrade the water quality of the St. Johns River. According to Florida Trend, they envision 220,000 homes, 100 million square feet of commercial and institutional space and close to 25,000 hotel rooms where now there are cattle and wild palms.

Once ranchland is paved over, little remains to mark what was once there, although there are exceptions. When Al Boyd sold off thousands of acres of northern Right: An emblem of Pinellas County ranchland, the the first cattle in North 17-foot concrete boot that marked America, a “cracker” cow stands above the boundary of his Boot Ranch pasture in the Strickland Ranch in Manatee property remained. Now his land County. Cattle were is covered in subdivisions and strip first introduced to this continent in 1521 during malls, and the big boot stands in Ponce de León’s second the parking lot of The Shoppes of voyage from Spain. By the time U.S. colonists Boot Ranch. arrived nearly three Strickland’s story is more tragic centuries later, these cattle were ranging than Duncan’s. His father was killed widely throughout the in an accidental shooting when Florida woods.

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We’re barely making ends meet here. I’ve always been blessed to do what I love to do. I have literally traveled the world with my cattle.

— Jim Strickland

Above: xxxxx

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When you look at these ranchlands from an ecological perspective, it’s an eye-opener. we’ve got to keep these ranchlands intact somehow. They’re keeping Florida green.

— Julie Morris

Above: Blackbeard’s

Ranch is bathed in golden light, accentuating the tops of the longleaf pines on the savanna. The 4,500acre ranch, just north of Myakka River State Park, contributes to an important wildlife corridor and is home to burrowing owls, swallowtailed kites, Florida panthers and bears.

Right: A redshouldered hawk takes flight from an oak snag at Blackbeard’s Ranch.

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Strickland was 17.

At the time, he said, “We owned a little land but leased a lot for cattle. I stayed a rancher because that’s what I loved but had a lot of help along the way. Mentors were and are a blessing.”

His father’s ranch foreman “took me under his wing and taught me how to rope and so forth,” he recalled. He and the other cowboys would ride horses to drive their herds from one part of the ranch to another part where they could feed. Then the cowboys would feed, too.

“The foreman would be driving a Jeep, and he’d meet us somewhere along the fence line and build a fire and cook us some lunch,” he said. “Some of us would hold the cattle while the rest of us ate lunch, and then we’d swap.”

Blackbeard’s current foreman can’t help with the cattle on this day because he’s in quarantine, recovering from a mild COVID-19 infection. Strickland runs the ranch with just two regular employees—the rest of the cowboys are day laborers,

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temporary hires who bounce from ranch to ranch.

As Strickland sorted the cattle on this hot day, the crew helping him included a 71-year-old neighbor spattered with mud from head to toe and the 11-year-old son of one of the ranch hands who’d wanted to accompany his dad to work.

Both of them wore cowboy hats, but only the boy wore cowboy boots. The 71-year-old waded through the muck in white rubber boots that he called “Lakeport loafers.”

Both said they loved working with cattle, spending time outdoors and riding horses. Despite their age difference, they smiled a very similar smile.

Not present: Strickland’s son, who lives in Paris with his family and works for the diplomatic corps. Years ago, after spending lots of time ranching, he told Strickland, “I see how hard you work for how little money. It’s not for me.”

“Did it hurt my feelings?” Strickland said, looking down.

“Yeah, a little.

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Back in the heyday of Florida ranching, from the 1870s to the 1930s, cowboys needed only a few tools to do their jobs: a reliable horse and a comfortable saddle, a rope for tying up the cattle, a leather whip for cracking over the herd’s head, a cow dog to help keep the cows going the right way and a good memory for brands. Plenty of them also carried guns and knives for fighting rustlers or rival cowhands from other ranches.

“People ambushed each other all the time,” said historian Canter Brown Jr., author of Florida’s Peace River Frontier. “It was a rough locale and a rough life.”

The premiere cowhand of those days was the tall and lanky Morgan Bonaparte “Bone” Mizell, who couldn’t write his own name but was renowned for his ability to recall every brand of every rancher in the region around Arcadia. (He was also renowned for his alcohol consumption. Once, after he passed out during a cattle drive, his compadres relocated his bedroll into a nearby cemetery. When he woke up and looked around, he said, “Judgment Day, and I’m the first one up.”)

These days, ranchers rely heavily on technology unavailable back in Bone Mizell’s day. The cattle have clips attached to their ears that can be scanned with a smartphone, providing a full history of each cow, Johns said. The Seminoles don’t drive their cattle to market. Instead, they sell them via internet auction, uploading a video of each cow. Spreadsheets track the history of the herd.

Strickland’s approach is similar. As the cattle he was sending to market took their turns on a cow-sized scale, the ranch manager frequently reached for his iPhone. He used it for calculations on their total weight before loading them on Duncan’s truck. He also sent texts and photos to his customers so they knew what they were getting.

After Duncan drove away, Strickland showed off the ranch to a visitor—not by straddling a horse but by firing up an electric

Born to ride

Like Strickland, Alex Johns grew up in the cattle business.

Like Strickland’s son, he understands how low-paying of a profession it is.

“I’ve been involved in ranching from day one,” said Johns, 47. “I was born into it.”

He’s now the natural resource director for the Seminole Tribe, which means he oversees a co-op that controls ranches from the Georgia state line down to the Everglades. Yes, he’s heard the jokes about Indians playing cowboy, but points out that his tribal ancestors started tending the Spanish cattle five centuries ago, so they’re not newcomers to the field.

Despite the romantic image of cowboys, “it’s pretty hard work, long days and very hot and humid conditions,” Johns said, “and they find out there’s not a lot of money.” As a result, he said, it’s “harder and harder to find good help.”

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golf cart. The cart bounced along through the pastures as the rancher pointed out wells equipped with pumps operated by solar and wind power and talked about analyzing soil samples to maximize the growth of grass for grazing.

Keeping the ranch gates open has required diversifying the products for sale, he said. In addition to selling prime cuts of its own beef to local restaurants, Blackbeard’s now sells Miakka Prairie Honey, collected from beehives set up across the fence from Myakka River State Park. Another product: eggs and meat from Blackbeard’s Heritage Breed Chickens. The ranch is developing a line of Blackbeard’s Miakka Goat Cheese, too.

The pandemic has made Strickland glad the ranch diversified. Last year, with so many restaurants shut down for months, he said, Blackbeard’s discovered that the only steady customer for its steaks was the fast-food chain Wendy’s.

good ol’ days

As often happens with an industry on the downslope, some nostalgic people try to recreate the glories of the past.

North Florida rancher and storyteller Doyle Conner Jr., for instance, said he got roped into leading the first Great Florida Cattle Drive in 1995. He asked ranchers throughout the state to lend to the drive a native Florida breed known as “cracker cattle,” instead of the more common modern breeds of Brahman, Brangus and Beefmaster.

The Seminoles and every county in the state sent representative cow hunters to drive a herd of 1,000 cattle from Yeehaw Junction to Kissimmee. In 2006, they repeated the event but reversed the route. The organizers wanted to hold one this year for the 500th anniversary of Ponce de León’s cattle arriving in Florida, but postponed it due to COVID-19.

A few years ago, Strickland participated in what he said was “the world’s fastest cattle drive” to promote the launch of the photography book Florida Cowboys: Keepers of the Last Frontier

by Carlton Ward Jr. and an accompanying art exhibit at the Tampa Bay History Center. Dogs that he and other ranchers brought along to lend the drive some historical authenticity got into a fight in the street. The snarling dogs stampeded the cattle so that they bolted past their destination and had to be brought back to the history center.

Strickland would much rather look forward to the future than back at the past. That’s why he likes Julie Morris so much.

Hallowed habitat

Driving around the ranch, Strickland pointed out the different habitats—dry prairies, maiden cane marshes, live oak

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hammocks, cabbage islands and longleaf pine savannas. They all attract wildlife, some of it rare or endangered. That’s why he wants to maintain them just the way they are. For ranchers like Strickland who don’t want to see developers turn their land into a row of cookie-cutter homes, Morris has suggestions.

Morris, now with the National Wildlife Refuge Association, has been working to conserve ranchlands for decades to find ways to preserve native habitat on these properties and funnel some badly needed income their way.

Sometimes that means selling the development rights by giving the state or local government a so-called “conservation easement” on some or all of the property. Sometimes it means tapping some other state or federal program—or a combination of the two—to enable a rancher to continue the five-century tradition a few years more.

“When you look at these ranchlands from an ecological perspective, it’s such an eye-opener,” she said. That’s why the

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Above: Seminole

cowboy Andre Jumper points toward the cattle ahead in the predawn light as a full moon sets over pastures at the Seminole Tribe of Florida’s Big Cypress Reservation. Seminole ranching culture dates back to the arrival of some of the first Spanish cattle in America, and the tribe continues to be one of the top 10 producers of beef cattle in the country.

Opposite: Jim

Strickland, a leader in ranching and conservation, poses for a portrait on his Blackbeard’s Ranch inland of Sarasota.

recently passed law creating the Florida Wildlife Corridor is so important for the future preservation of this type of land.

Anyone who wants to hang onto habitat for everything from gopher tortoises to panthers knows “we’ve got to keep these ranchlands intact somehow. They’re keeping Florida green.”

At Blackbeard’s Ranch, Strickland has made use of Morris’s recomendations to reduce the pressure to sell out the way some neighbors have. Beyond saving habitat, he sees a bigger reason to try to maintain ranchland as ranchland: climate change.

That’s why, he said, the future of Florida ranching and the future of Florida itself are intertwined. The future of ranches like Blackbeard’s may depend more on the ability to preserve the natural landscape—particularly carbon-absorbing forests—than on how many cattle can be sold at market.

Development has its place, he said, but “condos and new houses are not going to help you with climate change and sea level rise, not the way green space can.”

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[ — sunny dispatches from NW FLA —

Panhandling

By Pr i s s y E l ro d • I l l u st ra t i o n b y S t ep h en L o m a zzo

Fearless Follies

From a tied-up 9-foot gator to a pig in a blanket, a lifetime of exploits led her to discover one of life’s biggest lessons.

I

The AirPods crammed inside my ears blasted Ed Sheeran’s “Happier” from my playlist.

The volume was higher than the 75 decibels recommended by know-it-alls who knew it all. I didn’t care. Tinnitus, an incurable culprit ordained in hell, was my newest affliction. I’m

dumbfounded there is nothing out there for tinnitus sufferers—yet impotence is all but cured with Viagra.

When I reached the next street, I bumped into my neighbors walking their dog. “There’s an alligator,” the man said, his finger pointed

[

t was unseasonably cool that June day in Tallahassee. I tapped the outdoor walk icon on my Apple Watch screen.

A lingering scent of fading gardenias filled the air as I stepped through my front door. I inhaled and captured the glorious aroma.

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toward the pond. “Don’t go there.”

“I’m not scared of gators,” I replied. They stared at me as if I had two heads. “I grew up on a lake; they lived in my backyard,” I explained to them.

“Well, we called someone to catch it,” the man said as a puff of fluff pulled on the leash his wife gripped. “That thing could eat my little dog,” she said. The anxious Yorkie looked up at her and trembled. Clearly, the dog was too smart for its own good.

“Thanks for the warning.”

We bade goodbye, and as soon as they turned their backs, I beelined to the pond.

When I arrived, there was a spectacle of commotion in motion. I confess one of my favorite activities is documenting the crazy in life.

Dare I say I have more material than needed nowadays.

An audience of landscapers, maintenance workers and homeowners gathered on the sidelines of the large pond. A strong, skinny and clearly confident man stood on the edge in knee-high waders and battled the weight of the struggling reptile hooked to his pole. A net, snare and ropes spooned his rubber boots.

I inched my way up past the crowd and stood next to him. I watched and waited as he pulled the wiggling gator from the water to the lawn’s edge and tranquilized him. As he lassoed and bound the gator’s crusty feet together with the rope, I questioned the nuisance-trapper. His name was Broderick Vaughan of Vaughan Gators. Instantly, I knew the man had a passion and talent for reptile ensnarement. But I soon discovered he was also an entertainer, citing facts and stories to his spectators as though giving a TED Talk.

“How long you think he is?” I asked as I slid over to the gator and rubbed my hand along his armored back.

“Hmmm …’bout 9 feet,” he answered as sweat poured from his forehead and through

the cotton shirt that clung to him.

“No way, how tall are you?” I asked.

“6-foot-1,” he replied.

I studied the gator’s rope-bound, stubby legs.

His back feet had four webbed toes with brittle, fungus-covered nails. His front feet were the same but had five, not four, unwebbed toes. I leaned in and whispered to the drugged creature, “Don’t be scared.”

“Wow, can you lay down next to him so we can measure?” I asked the fearless Broderick.

He smiled, scooted down and positioned his boots next to the motionless tail of the gator.

“Nine feet, 4 inches,” he announced. “Largest yet from this pond.”

knew where I was or when I’d be home. Usually, it was dinnertime, because I was hungry. Seldom did anyone ask or care where I’d been those four, six, sometimes eight hours. I was a busy bee who collected foliage, flowers and friends. But it was a different time back then, long before the world turned upside down and angry.

As a teenager, around 16, my thirst for adventure became more audacious. I had a driver’s license and four wheels, not just two. I was no longer confined to the city limits of my small, sleepy town. My inquisitive, foolhardy and precocious self journeyed outside the city limits to other Florida cities, sometimes alone, other times with my older sister, Deborah. She and I burned many a tar road as we raced to get home before our father discovered our wild and forbidden expeditions: a Beach Boys concert in Jacksonville Beach and a sly getaway weekend in Daytona Beach.

When we were caught, and we were, we paid with Daddy’s restrictive stipulations. He was the disciplinarian, my mother not so much.

One of my first solo adventures was to Ocala, two days after my 16th birthday. I convinced myself it was okay since it was exploration, a form of learning. In truth, I went to visit a darling boy I’d met cheering at an out-of-town football game. Our infatuation blossomed after letters were exchanged and he made multiple visits to see me in Lake City. He’d arrive driving his chick magnet, a fire-red sports car. But the dangled carrot that lured me to Ocala was his promise that I could meet Needles, the family’s famous horse, who’d won the Kentucky Derby.

Ultimately, Needles would be responsible for putting Ocala on the map and would later justify Marion County’s claim to fame as the horse capital of the world.

Bonnie Heath Farm was hidden down a winding paved drive surrounded by lush green pastures and magnificent live oak trees. The farm was named after his father, and, since darling

Bonnie showed me his stable and empty stall. He also showed me how to French kiss several times.

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He’d speculated that the gator came from Lake Jackson, a 7.5-mile-long lake off Rhoden Cove Road, only 1.2 miles from our neighborhood. The lake was lower than usual, even dry in places.

“Guess he was exploring, searching for water, could be looking to mate,” he said.

The horny thing should have heeded the “NO TRESPASSING” sign and kept his tail out of our gated community. Now his hide will be a belt, wallet or purse and his tail fried as an appetizer, I thought as my mind flashed back to the beginning of my own fearlessness growing up.

The Age of Exploration

As a young child, long before helicopter parenting became a thing, I loved escaping to explore. Almost every morning, I ventured off, riding my radiant blue Schwinn bicycle, with its two-tone saddle seat and twin headlights. A wicker basket attached to the handlebars housed my self-made lunch, a butter-and-sugar sandwich on Sunbeam white bread. Most days, no one

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Panhandling

sunny dispatches from NW FLA

boy was the third, also named after him. This impressed my infatuated self. But, after I’d driven the 80 miles (one way), Needles, the stallion, wasn’t even there. Alas, the winner was away on business. So, Bonnie showed me his stable and empty stall. He also showed me how to French kiss several times inside his stable. Was it worth restriction once home?

Indeed. I deposited my explorative excursion inside my memory bank, along with many more that followed. Poor Daddy.

TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS

The dictionary defines “explore” in many ways: to travel around; to investigate and inspect; to acquire information. I’ve met every definition 1000 times in my life. I’m always in search of something new, different and exciting.

In my 20s and 30s, anything pig-related excited me, and I yearned for a potbelly pig.

Boone, my then-boyfriend, surprised me on my 21st birthday and arrived at the Pi Phi house with a tiny pig wearing a bonnet and wrapped in a pink blanket. She was stolen 24 hours later. From that day forward, I never liked the taste of pork. But I did marry that man.

My next decades were spent exploring Walt Disney World with our children or tagging along with my husband to conventions at some of Florida’s gorgeous resorts. When these trips got stale, I bought a box of cereal. Well, I really bought 20 boxes, after I read the small print on the side of the first box. It was a contest to win a trip out West. Since we couldn’t afford to go any other way … I would win.

“Prissy, what are all these boxes for?” my husband asked when he came home to find a tower of no-name cereal boxes stacked

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on our kitchen table.

“We’re going to a dude ranch,” I declared.

“What are you talking about?”

I explained the contest.

“Do you know how many people will enter that thing? You’ll never win.” He jabbered on about the statistical odds of why I couldn’t or wouldn’t get lucky.

“Well, do you know how few people read cereal boxes to know there even is a contest?”

I walked out with squares sliced from the sides of 20 cardboard boxes. They were my proof-ofpurchase validations.

To say I am disciplined, driven and competitive is an understatement. The contest winner was based on the last call received by 11:59 p.m. on a preannounced day. I timed my calling in seconds, not minutes, and started calling only 15 minutes before the deadline. My proof of purchase had been sent and received in advance. As I recall, the more cereal bought, the better the odds. I dialed lickety-split quick.

Yes, indeed, I won that all-expenses-paid trip for four to Lost Creek Ranch and Spa in Moose, Wyoming, for an adventurous week. Then, I donated all my wounded cereal boxes to the local food bank. My second win was showing my husband I could win, that I was right. Or rather, I’d proved him wrong. If only I’d known how insignificant that kind of victory is.

As the years moved forward, my exploring was more for the purpose of discovery. Mainly, when I need to pee: Where is the bathroom? It’s never in the right place. The wrong place is a story my husband likes to tell any day, and to my dismay.

We were at the Tallahassee Civic Center for the annual home show of builders, decorators, plumbers and other vendors. Everyone had everything one needed to build a house. We’d been walking for what seemed like hours and I had to go—you know? We were far from a public bathroom, so I kept browsing and put a potty break out of my mind. Then, we came upon a trailer in the far back corner of the massive 54,000-square-foot building. I climbed the stairs and went inside. Lo and behold, as if by

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a miracle, it had toilets—two of them. I peed. But when I reached back to flush, there was no handle. Wait, is this not a toilet?!

I raced out to find my husband (who can fix anything) and told him the toilet didn’t flush. Could he fix it? “Oh my God, that’s a showroom, Prissy, not real toilets!” I was confused. The room looked like those fancy outdoor toilets I’d rented for my daughter’s wedding. They were functional, not just fancy. We were both mortified and ran out the back door of the civic center before we, or rather I, could be discovered. There would be other explorations for bathrooms. Trust me, anyone who had 9-pound babies would be on the hunt. I believe one must find humor to survive the unexpected.

I see life like an amusement park, full of joyrides, panicked grips and the occasional harrowing bathroom break. The bumper-car moments can shake us to the core or blanket us with courage. Sometimes they can do both at the same time. After a lifetime of exploring this, that or nothing at all, I’ve discovered a truth worth mentioning. The unexpected in life is part of the journey. All those stumbles and triumphs all tangled together remind us of our pains, gains and everything in between. This universal message nudges me to embrace each new day as though it could be my last. The present is my present and a gift I will never take for granted. This turned out to be my greatest discovery of all.

Prissy Elrod is a professional speaker, artist and humorist and the author of Far Outside the Ordinary. She was born and raised in Lake City and now lives in Tallahassee with her husband, Dale. Chasing Ordinary, the sequel to Far Outside the Ordinary, was released in early 2019.

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ON THE FLY — BIRD’S-EYE VIEW —

The local’s gui de t o a Tal l ahas s e e ge t away

— GROVE STAND —

M e e t t h i s m a m a ’s b oy t u r n e d m a s t e r c h e f

— THE ROOST —

Oceanfront estates built for epic entertaining

— DESIGN DISTRICT —

S o m e t i m e s i t ’s w h a t ’s o n t h e o u t s i d e t h a t m a t t e r s

— FLORIDA WILD —

A m o t h e r- d a u g h t e r d u o m a k e a s u r p r i s e a p p e a ra n c e

— THE TIDE —

D o n ’ t m i s s F l o r i d a ’s b e s t f a l l f e t e s

— FLORIDIANA —

MARY BETH KOETH

Th e s t a t e ’s l a s t s u r v i v i n g j u k e j o i n t h a s s t o r i e s t o t e l l

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ON THE FLY:BIRD’S-EYE VIEW A G U I D E TO O U R FAVO R I T E N E I G H B O R H O O DS

going back to Tally

Bookstores, breweries & boutiques abound in our state’s capital

Above from left: The Westcott Building at Florida State University, the Capital City Amphitheater at Cascades Park, Midtown Reader and the Florida State Capitol

Leave college crowds behind when you dine at this eatery serving up elevated New American cuisine, an educational wine series and craft cocktails shaken up with local liquor.

3534 Maclay Blvd S.

2. ALFRED B. MACLAY GARDENS STATE PARK

Escape to ornamental gardens blooming with hundreds of camellias, azaleas and dogwood trees on the banks of Lake Overstreet and Lake Hall.

3540 Thomasville Road

3. HEARTH & SOUL

You’ll feel right at home inside this upscale boutique filled with a curated collection of home accessories, clothing for men and women and bespoke gifts for the most finicky of family members.

1410 Market St.

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4. PROOF BREWING COMPANY

Sip on Sunshine State–inspired ales like the Blue Floridian Berliner Weisse or the Warpath imperial IPA at the city’s first craft brewery.

1320 S. Monroe St.

5. KOOL BEANZ CAFE

Between the casual yet quirky decor and a James Beard semifinalist pastry chef, this Tally institution makes for an unforgettable meal.

921 Thomasville Road

6. FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY

Cheer for the Seminoles, tour the hallowed halls or take a dip in the Westcott Fountain, if you’re feeling brave—it’s tradition.

156 S. Copeland St.

7. BAR 1903

Sample the extensive catalog of cocktails and storied spirits divided by era inside the impeccably restored Walker Library building.

209 E. Park Ave.

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8. FLORIDA STATE CAPITOL

Rub elbows with our state’s lawmakers when you visit the Capitol Complex. Sit in on a legislative session, meet with your representative or discover the history beneath your feet at the museum.

400 S. Monroe St.

9. IL LUSSO

Indulge in authentic wagyu Denver steak, seafood mezzaluna drizzled in lobster sauce or a beef Wellington prepped to perfection over the course of 48 hours. Don’t forget to make a resy at this popular bistro.

201 E. Park Ave., Suite 100

10. CASCADES PARK

Bike some of the capital’s extensive trail network, catch a performance at the amphitheater or let the kiddos splash around in Imagination Fountain at this outdoor community hub.

1001 S. Gadsden St.

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ILLUSTR ATION BY LESLIE CHALFONT

1. SAGE, A RESTAURANT

The Ultimate WEEKENDER

L

ooking for a quick fall getaway but need some inspiration for where to go? Check out our collection of Bird’s-Eye View travel guides showcasing the best of our favorite cities and neighborhoods with a weekend’s worth of shops, eateries and quintessential experiences to try at each destination.

11. NEAT INTERIORS & DESIGN

Spend hours browsing shelves full of throw pillows and framed art or enlist the help of a NEAT consultant to find just the right decor to make your house a home.

1390 Timberlane Road, Suite 201

12. TALLAHASSEE AUTOMOBILE MUSEUM

Along with over 160 rare cars, visitors will also find a vast collection of sports memorabilia, Steinway pianos, motorcycles and more in this antique enthusiast emporium.

6800 Mahan Drive

13. MIDTOWN READER

Find your next paperback pal or pick the brains of local literary legends like Lauren Groff and Jeff VanderMeer, whom you just might find holed up inside this intimate indie bookstore.

1123 Thomasville Road

14. ST. MARKS NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE

Far from the war chants of the city, trek through this sprawling ecosystem of estuaries, coastal marshes and islands to catch glimpses of alligators, ospreys, bald eagles and bobcats.

1255 Lighthouse Road

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FIND THEM ALL ON Flamingomag.com Anna Maria Island

Naples

St. Augustine

Summer 2016

Summer 2018

Spring 2018

Coral Gables

Palm Beach

St. Petersburg

Winter 2017

Fall 2019

Fall 2017

DeLand

Ponte Vedra & Jacksonville Beaches

Summer 2017

Spring 2020

Fernandina Beach Spring 2016

Flagler Village Winter 2019

Mount Dora Spring 2017

Spring 2021

Seaside Fall 2018

Siesta Key Winter 2018

Stuart Tampa Summer 2019

Winter Park Winter 2016

Wynwood Fall 2016

South Beach Spring 2019

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ON THE FLY: GROVE STAND SEASON’S EATINGS B y E ri c B a rt o n

The Chef Mom Made His mother gave up everything to come to America, and then she taught Henry Moso everything She’d learned about the food industry

This page:

Moso was inspired by his mother’s success as a restaurateur and opened Kabooki when he was 22.

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Chef Henry Moso’s Ebi Gyoza with Mojo S e rv e s 2

MOJO 2 bunches of cilantro, roughly chopped 4 garlic cloves 1 green pepper, sliced 1/4 cup grapeseed oil 1 teaspoon cumin 1/2 cup sushi vinegar Juice of 1 lime Salt PREPARATION: Add all ingredients to a blender and mix until smooth.

Above: Moso’s carefully constructed hamachi carpaccio Below: The extensive bar and cocktail menu

includes gems like the Lychee Princess cocktail.

CHRISTIAN LEBON

H

enry Moso’s story—how at 31 years old he’s already chefowner at a successful Orlando restaurant, how he has earned national fame for his cooking—unquestionably begins with his mom, the toughest person he knows.

His mom, Linda Vongkhamsene, left Laos when he was 9 or 10. Moso’s parents had divorced, and his mom decided to chase the American dream by moving to Florida. Living with his dad, Moso started running with troublemakers. He was an unruly 16-year-old when his father shipped him to America to live with his mother. Moso had no idea what to expect.

Back in Laos, his mom had owned a successful jewelry store and even had a personal cook who prepared all her meals. But with an unfavorable exchange rate, her life savings translated to just $1,000 when she moved to Orlando. Somehow, though, she opened a restaurant, and then another. In 2013, the Orlando Sentinel called her place, Thaitanic Sushi, “a little restaurant with a lot of heart” that put out “not only top-notch sushi but elegant curries and tempura dishes.”

Moso arrived to discover his mother had become a restaurateur and entrepreneur. A

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GYOZA 4 ounces shiitake mushrooms 2 cups shrimp 1 cup scallions, thinly sliced

woman who used to have others cook for her was not only running kitchens, but doing much of the work herself. “I’d never seen this side of my mom, and it kind of got me inspired,” Moso says. “She knew how to make Thai food and roll sushi and taught herself to do it. And I thought, ‘That’s kind of badass.’ I wanted to do that, too.”

Moso started waking up at 6 in the morning to catch the bus to high school in Oviedo. After homework, he’d go to his mom’s restaurant to wash dishes until close. After eight months, his mom let him try a stint as a sushi chef, and he soon became the quickest sushi roller on the line. Then she kept giving him new jobs.

She made him a server, put him at the hostess stand or had him working the line. He learned how to use OpenTable and ran the restaurant’s computer system. He practiced his mom’s golden rules: If you own a restaurant, you should know how to do every job; you should be the last one to leave; and you must “understand the struggle” of everyone on the staff.

By the time he was 18, Moso essentially ran one of his mom’s kitchens, hiring staff and doing inventory. By then, his mom was planning to return to Laos, where she lives now,

2 tablespoons sesame oil 2 tablespoons white soy sauce Salt and pepper to taste Wonton wrappers, preferably green for color PREPARATION: Add all ingredients except scallions and wonton wrappers to food processor and blend for 1-2 minutes. Transfer mix to a piping bag. Pipe the mixture into wonton wrappers and use water to seal and shape the wrappers into half moons.

Let the gyoza dry before pansearing them with a splash of oil. Garnish with scallions, and serve with mojo sauce.

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ON THE FLY: GROVE STAND SEASON’S EATINGS

and so she began grooming him to run his the freshness of the fish, and with few garnishes, own place. He was 22 when he opened the albeit each of the finest quality. He also serves doors in a lackluster shopping plaza on East an ever-changing menu of dishes that sound like Colonial Drive. He called his eatery Kabooki what you’d find in kitchens of acclaimed FrenchSushi, after the traditional Japanese theater, trained chefs. He plates octopus with charred because he says a good restaurant ought to be eggplant puree, caramelized lemon and tomato entertainment on its own. jam. His wagyu tartare comes dotted with egg The first three months were god-awful. yolks, shallots and vibrant flower petals. He He’d serve 20, maybe 30 people a created a tableau of pastels with a day and then go back to the dish Mother’s Day dessert of basil panna pit to finish the night, wondering KABOOKI SUSHI cotta, berry sauce, lemon cake, if he’d make it much longer. Then dehydrated strawberries and salted — EAST COLONIAL LOCATION — 3122 E. COLONIAL DRIVE a food blogger posted a review watermelon sorbet. His dishes speak ORLANDO that urged people to look past to his precision, each ingredient — SANDY LAKES LOCATION — the restaurant’s tired exterior. placed where he wants it. The plates 7705 TURKEY LAKE ROAD ORLANDO Next, the Orlando Weekly gushed: are undeniably art, but the thing kabookisushi.com “Gifted chef and accomplished that he wants more than anything staff drawing raves from local is for a customer to come in and sushi zealots.” Business doubled, eat something they’ve never had, then tripled. He landed on lists of Orlando’s perhaps a new ingredient or maybe just things best restaurants, and in 2020 he was a brought together on a plate in a way they’ve semifinalist for the James Beard Foundation’s never seen. award for rising star chef of the year.

“I like to try new things. I like to be Moso serves his sushi and sashimi like they creative. I don’t like to work on something do in Japan: room temperature, to show off that you already know,” Moso says. “For me,

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it’s always to improve.”

In 2019, he opened a second Kabooki location in Doctor Phillips, an Orlando suburb. During the pandemic, he doubled the size of the original location and is expanding again, working on a lounge and private dining space. Like his mother taught him, Moso knows every part of his business.

On the Thursday afternoon we spoke, he was designing Kabooki’s new lounge. Two nights earlier, he had worked the sushi line because he was short-staffed. The day before, he did a catering gig. Within the next five years, he’s planning three or maybe four more restaurants, a couple in Orlando first and then elsewhere, perhaps Miami.

His mom hasn’t been back in two and a half years, but Moso says she was impressed

by Kabooki, even if she did offer some strong feedback. She wondered why he had so many chefs and if he ought to be doing more of the work himself.

“She’s low-key kind of proud of it, because she’s always tough on me,” he says. “She’s like, ‘Good job, but what’s next?’”

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CHRISTIAN LEBON

Above from left: A bottle of Hibiki Harmony Japanese Whiskey on display; the hirame crudo is a work of culinary art; Kabooki is named after traditional Japanese theater

This page: Moso’s

kanpachi tasting

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ON THE FLY: GROVE STAND SEASON’S EATINGS

Above: The elegantly appointed bar inside Kabooki Below: Kabooki Sushi offers a sophisticated selection of high-end spirits.

If there’s one dish that Henry Moso thinks of when he remembers growing up in Laos, it’s green papaya salad. As a kid, he’d order it from street vendors, along with charcoal-grilled chicken and sticky rice. Papaya salad isn’t a dish Moso serves in his Orlando restaurants, but he shared the recipe he’ll make for himself, especially to cool the heat of a Central Florida day. There are several keys to making this recipe successful, he says, including using a mortar and pestle, not a food processor, to mix the dressing. You’ll need to source an unripe green papaya. For a true Laotian version, search your local Asian market for Padaek fish sauce.

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Chef Henry Moso’s Green Papaya Salad S e rv e s 2 2 garlic cloves 5 fresh Thai chilis 1 teaspoon shrimp paste 1 teaspoon crab paste (optional) 4-5 tablespoons Padaek (Laotian-style fermented fish sauce) 2 teaspoons fish sauce 1 tablespoon tamarind concentrate juice

PREPARATION: Finely julienne green papaya and soak in water to keep crisp.

Cut scallions into 2-inch-long strips.

In a mortar and pestle, smash garlic, sugar and chilis. Add the shrimp and crab paste and mix until ingredients become a paste. Add fermented fish sauce, fish sauce, tamarind and mix. Slice tomatoes in half and gently smash into sauce. Add lime and mix.

Add shredded papaya, carrot and scallions into the mortar. Pound and toss lightly until dressing thoroughly coats vegetables. Adjust seasoning to taste.

4 teaspoons sugar 15 cherry tomatoes 1 unripe green papaya (yields 2 cups) 1/4 cup shredded carrot

CHRISTIAN LEBON

Chef Henry Moso’s Green Papaya Salad Brings Him Back to Laos

1-2 scallions Juice of half a lime

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FLAMINGO TURNED 5!

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ON THE FLY:THE ROOST RE AL ESTATE DOLLARS & SENSE B y K i era G era g h t y

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More than a place to call home, these over-the-top estates are monuments to entertaining and living the most fabulous lifestyle

Miami Beach

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THE CARROLL GROUP

isionary architect Peter Bohlin is perhaps best known for designing Apple’s iconic stores in New York City, but now a piece of his architectural genius is up for grabs in Miami's Venetian Islands. This modernist home with stunning water views has four bedrooms and five-anda-half baths. Covering 5,330 square feet, this architectural gem is characterized by clean lines, a back wall made entirely of windows and a suspended 23-yard lap pool with colorchanging LED lights. Its simple white exterior and abundance of windows allow the natural flora of South Florida to take center stage.

Inside, a floating staircase leads to a lavish master bedroom that almost seems to hover over the water. Whether you’re dangling your manicured toes off the dock or swimming morning laps in the pool, this extraordinary home is outfitted only for the most fabulous Miami lifestyle.

21 E. San Marino Drive, Miami Beach $18,900,000

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ON THE FLY:THE ROOST RE AL ESTATE DOLLARS & SENSE

Anna Maria Island

J

AWARE MEDIA COMPANY/JOE CURT

ust steps from the white sand beach Anna Maria Island is known for, this palatial estate is an ideal Gulf Coast getaway.

Sprawled out over 7,437 square feet, the spacious layout of this newly built home is fit for milestone celebrations. Here you’ll find a wet bar, game room, oversized patio and a partially covered pool that sets the scene for the perfect party. The double-island kitchen inside serves as a stunning focal point for massive dinner parties, and the conveniently located elevator means guests will have easy access to their quarters.

The property features five bedrooms and five-and-a-half baths—not to mention a one-bedroom guest house for anyone vying to overstay their welcome. The vaulted ceilings, oak and natural stone finishings soak up the sunlight streaming in through the vanishing sliding doors. The resort-style master bedroom further confirms that living here will feel like a year-round vacation.

100 Beach Ave., Anna Maria $16,500,000

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ON THE FLY:THE ROOST RE AL ESTATE DOLLARS & SENSE

Santa Rosa Beach

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JASON ELLIS/8 FIFT Y PRODUC TIONS, TIM KR AMER / TIM KR AMER PHOTOGR APHY

ontemporary design meets unmatched comfort in this 6,550-square-foot estate perched on Choctawhatchee Bay. Spend summer days lounging in the pool, then curl up on plush seating around the sunken fire pit to watch the sun set over the bay. If you’d rather indulge inside, the living room, anchored by a two-story fireplace, has 24-foot ceilings and a wall of retractable glass doors that create an open-concept space. Continue through the doors onto a spacious covered patio with ample seating and an outdoor kitchen, making this an ideal home for entertaining. The house boasts five bedrooms, seven bathrooms and a theater perfect for nights in. With a mix of chic, modern details and warm earth tones throughout the property, this bayfront beauty represented by Cindy Cole of Cindy Cole Fine Homes feels inviting and on-trend.

337 Driftwood Point Road, Santa Rosa Beach $7,495,000

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Come see us April 8-10, 2022 at the Word of South Festival for one of America’s most unique celebrations of music and literature, located in Tallahassee, Florida.

Allison Moor

Don't miss this event featuring Jamey Johnson and his band, the poet David Kirby, the singer John Kurzweg and a host of other authors and musicians!

Stay tuned to our website for upcoming festival details: WordOfSouthFestival.com

April 8-10, 2022 Tallahassee, Florida

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ON THE FLY: DESIGN DISTRICT B y N ila D o S imo n

hedge fun

With a sharp eye for detail (and a pair of clippers), fernando wong speaks the love language of lavish outdoor landscaping

S

omewhere in Florida, a sabal palm is swaying.

With a crown of radiating fronds that swing against a breeze, the tree moves with fluidity and purpose, just like the man who designed its placement in hundreds of outdoor abodes: Fernando Wong. It comes as no surprise that the sabal palm is one of Wong’s favored native species.

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“There are so many things I can do with sabal palms,” Wong says. “You can have orchids hanging from them, staghorns can hang from them. I just love the tree.”

To hear Wong discuss a topic as ubiquitous as a tree is to be in the presence of a design savant. Since founding his Florida-based boutique firm, Fernando Wong Outdoor Living Design, he’s become a sought-after

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CARMEL BR ANTLE Y, NICK SARGENT

designer known for his ability to connect with the exterior environment and give his creations a deep sense of place. The accolades have come from far and wide, with his firm winning a prestigious 2021 Palladio Award in the exterior spaces category for its reconfiguration of a historic 1930s Palm Beach estate’s outdoor area, as well as a 2020 Addison Mizner Award for landscape architecture from the Institute of Classical Architecture & Art. At the 2021 Kips Bay Decorator Show House in Palm Beach, where 20 designers were asked to contribute their ideas for a showcase benefiting charity at a 4,400-square-foot Mediterranean villa, Wong’s manicured front motor court was the first display to greet guests, who were eventually led to his art deco–inspired design of the pool terrace, dripping in old-school Hollywood glamour.

Primarily a residential designer early in his career, Wong has recently been awarded some of the state’s biggest commercial landscape design projects, including the Four Seasons Hotel at The Surf Club and the upcoming Four Seasons Hotel and Residences Fort Lauderdale. He also designed a 15,000-squarefoot sculpture garden at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Miami. While some clients have asked him to figuratively move mountains, what Wong has literally done is move massive trees, including a 40-foot-tall, 130-year-old kapok tree he brought from the

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Opposite: Wong’s design at the landmarked John Volk Estate This page from top: Wong poses for a portrait; an aerial view of the landmarked John Volk Estate in Palm Beach

Bahamas to a Palm Beach estate.

The past year saw landscape design and topiary art vaulted to the mainstream, with Discovery+ airing the first-of-its kind reality show competition Clipped in May, which challenged seven contestants to weekly horticulture challenges. Wong was one of three judges, alongside the great Martha Stewart and the multifaceted Chris Lambton. Wong, who says he didn’t even know Stewart was

going to be on the show until he stepped on set, believes that after years of reality shows featuring controversy and quarrels, Clipped was a refreshing reset for viewers. “It was that kind of ‘aha!’ moment that led the network to pursue something that was happy and sunny,” he says.

Before Hollywood came calling, Wong says his beginnings were humble and far from the shininess of the silver screen. The grandson of a Chinese immigrant, Wong was born and raised in Panama, “in a tropical jungle, close to the Panama Canal,” as he describes it. A budding athlete in his youth, Wong would often spend the weekends with his father, helping friends and family with their gardens and outdoor spaces. “It was hard work,” Wong remembers. “My father taught me that all this work would make callouses grow on my hand. And they definitely did.”

After studying architecture and interior design at the University of Panama, Wong moved to Miami on a chance invitation from a friend in 2001. Speaking little English at the time, Wong says he started working on a landscape crew at the “bare bottom, like driving a truck, mixing cement, going to the

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the architecture: It’s the first thing that I see. I arrive at these job sites and see how the neighborhood feels. I could arrive at a Georgian-style home or a bungalow or something super modern, but what matters is the progression of how I’m led to the house. That allows me to create more of a sense of place that feels native to the area.”

That approach helped him create a master plan for the Four Seasons Hotel and Residences Fort Lauderdale, a 22-story oceanfront property set to open on Fort Lauderdale Beach later this year.

Wong wanted a seamless ocean FERNANDO view from the property, “but what WONG stood between it and the ocean was OUTDOOR LIVING DESIGN the main road, a boardwalk and white sand,” he says. “I thought, — LOCATION — ‘How can we make the blue ocean MIAMI PALM BEACH the primary thing you see when fernandowongold.com you’re at the Four Seasons?’”

To create a direct sight line to the ocean, Wong’s plans called for vast amounts of vegetation between the property and sidewalk on A1A, essentially creating a canopy of lush greenery by installing a grove of coconut palms on the ground floor of the property. From the third-floor pool area, guests and residents will have uninterrupted views of the beach, thanks to that tree canopy beneath them.

Despite his affinity with flora and fauna, as a landscape designer, Wong works with all things in the outdoors: plants, pools, Above: The oval pool at the landmarked John Volk Estate Opposite clockwise: Island House patio; Beach ponds, fountains, walkways, buildings Bungalow bougainvillea; simplistic Secret Garden; Beach Bungalow confederate jasmine trellis and anything else that the sun can touch.

For the Four Seasons property in Fort nurseries, lifting the plants and palms from and now has offices in Palm Beach, Miami and Lauderdale, he also designed the third-floor the nursery.”

Southhampton. Despite the range of projects pool deck that includes two horizon-edge One of his employers had a huge library he’s worked on over nearly two decades, Wong pools and lush cabana spaces on either of garden books, so Wong would often says when he’s asked to design outdoor spaces, sides of the pools. draft designs based on the classic French he approaches them all in the same way.

When asked if he sees a stopping point and Italian styles that he saw in the books.

“I ask the clients a simple question: What in the future, Wong’s response is steadfast.

Eventually, his talents took him off the is your inspiration?” he begins. “Hopefully it “No,” he says with a smile. “I will work landscaping crew and onto the design team. comes from a beautiful ocean horizon or the until the day I die because it’s true: You Along with business and life partner Tim clouds or something else that’s dreamy. If that’s never really work when you love what you Johnson, Wong founded his firm in 2005 the case, I want to embrace that. Then comes do. And I love what I do.”

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NICK SARGENT, CARMEL BR ANTLE Y

ON THE FLY: DESIGN DISTRICT

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ON THE FLY: FLORIDA WILD P H OTOGR APHS & F IELD NOTES B y C ar lton Ward J r.

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Perfect Pair

T

here is no better place in the world than Boca Grande in the early summer. The tarpon fishing season is reaching its peak, and the Charlotte Harbor estuary is teeming with life.

One of my favorite things to do is run a boat south past Gasparilla Island and Cayo Costa State Park to photograph the old fish shacks inside Captiva Pass.

In the late afternoon, storm clouds often build like mountains over the mangroves of Pine Island while the stilt houses stand over the grass flats in the foreground like sentinels of a bygone era. Charlotte Harbor, near Fort Myers, is the second-largest open water estuary in Florida—behind Tampa Bay. Freshwater flows in from the Peace, Myakka and Caloosahatchee rivers, nourishing a vast mangrove ecosystem that provides a habitat for hundreds of species of fish and birds. As the places where inland freshwater and coastal saltwater mix, estuaries remind us how our whole state is NOTES interconnected. Charlotte Harbor is connected to Lake Okeechobee and the Everglades — HABITAT— through the Caloosahatchee. When water BOCA GRANDE/ quality in Lake Okeechobee suffers, Charlotte GASPARILLA SOUND Harbor often suffers, too. Thankfully, Charlotte Harbor is resilient, aided by many passes — SEASON — exchanging water with the Gulf of Mexico.

SUMMER Boca Grande Pass, between Gasparilla Island and Cayo Costa State Park, is nearly a mile wide, up to 80 feet deep and said to be the — TIME OF DAY— EVENING deepest natural pass along the entire Gulf Coast. On this day in June, our boat was traveling south toward Captiva Pass. As we — SUBJECT— neared the inside of Boca Grande Pass, the BOTTLENOSE DOLPHINS Gulf of Mexico starting to show beyond, a pair of bottlenose dolphins started playing in the boat wake. I moved close to the stern and lowered my camera, hoping to get another glimpse, when a mother and baby broke through the surface right in front me. Having grown up on the Gulf Coast near Clearwater at a time when Flipper was popular on TV, I have always had a fondness for dolphins.

These highly intelligent marine mammals can live up to 50 years. The bond between a mother and her calf is strong. After a gestation period of a full year, a calf will nurse for about 20 months and then stay close by the mother for three to six years.

By freezing time in this photograph, I get to ponder this tender moment shared between mother and calf forever. The light for the stilt house photographs didn’t work out that day, but this gift from the journey is a moment I will always remember.

26°44’10.482” N

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82°15’0.0648” W

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ON THE FLY:THE TIDE ROAD TR IP–WORTHY EVENTS (NORTH) SUPER GIRL SURF PRO JACKSONVILLE BEACH

Nov. 12–14

Women are taking over the waves at the largest female professional surf competition featuring Olympic gold medalist Carissa Moore and Florida favorite Caroline Marks. supergirljax.com

DICKENS ON CENTRE FERNANDINA BEACH

Dec. 9–12

Laughter and good humor are irresistibly contagious at this Victorian celebration of Christmas past. Cheers with costumed characters, spill your wish list to Saint Nick and banish holiday bah-humbug. ameliaisland.com

POLAR BEAR DIP PERDIDO KEY

Jan. 1

Brave the wintry waters of the Gulf of Mexico for a free beer and black-eyed peas lunch from the Flora-Bama Lounge.

Costumes are encouraged (and wet suits are for weenies). florabama.com

NIGHTS OF LIGHTS ST. AUGUSTINE

Nov. 20–Jan. 31 The Ancient City puts Clark Griswold’s house to shame each holiday season when more than three million lights illuminate every branch and banister. Rooted in the old Spanish tradition of placing a candle in the window at Christmastime, St. Augustine’s over-the-top spectacle has been named one of 10 mustsee holiday light displays around the world by National Geographic. The Plaza de la Constitución glows as the heart of the show, each tree wrapped in lights and a multicolored Christmas tree towering over it all, but the Lightner Museum and Flagler College often steal the glory when their Gilded Age facades begin to glimmer. To escape the crowds, soak up the scenery by boat, and watch a rainbow of colors shimmer off the surface of the Matanzas River. visitstaugustine.com/event/nights-lights

30A SONGWRITERS FESTIVAL

APALACHICOLA OYSTER COOK-OFF

DONNA MARATHON

Jan. 14–17

A PA LA C H I C O LA

Jan. 14–15

Feb. 6

Slurp and score the Panhandle’s best bivalves during this twoday shellfish showdown that benefits the town’s volunteer fire department. Squeeze in a quick 3-mile run before the taste test begins. oystercookoff.com

At the nation’s only marathon dedicated to breast cancer research, patients, survivors and supporters race in everything from the 5K to the 110-mile ultramarathon or the beach-front, Boston-qualifying marathon. breastcancermarathon.com

FLORIDASHISTORICCOAST.COM

S O U T H WA LT O N

Above: Visitors stroll thru old St.

Augustine during Nights of Lights.

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Heavy hitters like Mavis Staples, Emmylou Harris and John Driskell Hopkins mingle with up-and-coming musicians at this sweet-sounding spectacle in the 30A beach communities.

30asongwritersfestival.com

JACKSONVILLE BEACHES

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ON THE FLY:THE TIDE ROAD TR IP–WORTHY EVENTS (C E N T RA L ) JOHN’S PASS SEAFOOD FESTIVAL MADEIRA BEACH

Jan. 20–23

Feast on the freshest flavors of the Gulf just steps from where they’re reeling it in with a quaint fishing village as the backdrop.

Live music, local vendors and a VIP tasting event round out this seafood fete. johnspassseafoodfest.com

FELLSMERE FROG LEG FESTIVAL FELLSMERE

Jan. 20–23 Sample a true down-home delicacy in every dish imaginable at this quirky festival going 31 years strong. Start small with a single frog pop or order a whole pound of frog legs to share with the family. This year, you don’t even have to leave the car to get your amphibian appetizers. Just swing by the drive-thru. froglegfestival.com

DAYTONA 500

D AY T O N A B E A C H

Get a front-row seat at the most iconic race in motor sports, where the world’s best drivers push their cars and themselves to the limits at NASCAR’s signature speedway. Thanks to the course’s high banks (and the race’s high stakes), outcomes are known to change in an instant at the Daytona 500, keeping fans—and drivers—on the edge of their seats. At this year’s 64th annual competition, catch a prerace performance by Luke Combs, get a glimpse of the pit crews prepping the cars in the UNOH Fan Zone and even sign your name on the starting line. When the flood lights illuminate the 2.5-mile tri-oval track and the roar of the crowd threatens to drown out the revving engines, you’ll understand why they call this the Great American Race. daytonainternationalspeedway.com

25TH ANNUAL SPACE COAST BIRDING AND WILDLIFE FESTIVAL C A P E C A N AV E R A L

Feb. 2–6

Grab your best binoculars and look to the skies to see some of Florida’s feathery friends. Embark on field trips to birding hot spots, hear from experts in the industry and even learn how to capture these creatures on film. scbwf.org

SARASOTA MOD WEEKEND

ST. PETE RUN FEST

ORANGE BLOSSOM REVUE

FLORIDA STATE FAIR

Nov. 12–14

nov. 12–14

Dec. 3–4

Feb. 10–21

S A R A S O TA

Celebrate all things sleek, chic and thoroughly Sarasota during this deep dive into the city’s signature architecture. Stroll around stunning homes and get to know the mastermind behind the Sarasota style. sarasotamod.com

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ST. PETERSBURG

Lace up your sneakers and tour this Gulf Coast gem on foot when you sign up for the half marathon, 10K or 5K. Not a runner? Cheer on your athlete from the sidelines and stick around for the post-race party. stpeterunfest.org

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LA K E WA L E S

Rock out to roots music beneath a blanket of live oaks in the heart of Old Florida.

Blackberry Smoke, Nicki Bluhm, Devon Gilfillian and more bring their soulful sounds to this not-so-sleepy town. orangeblossomrevue.com

TA M PA

This annual carnival with a massive midway is the only time downing a basket of deep-fried cookie dough and chili cheese fries before taking a whirl on the Zipper sounds like a good idea.

Pro tip: It’s not. floridastatefair.com

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DAY TONA INTERNATIONAL SPEEDWAY

Feb. 20

ON THE FLY:THE TIDE ROAD TR IP–WORTHY EVENTS (SOUTH) FORT LAUDERDALE CONCOURS F O R T LA U D E R D A L E

Oct. 29

Gear up for the classiest night of cars and cocktails on the rooftop of the Las Olas Parking Garage at the Intracoastal, guaranteed to make classic car enthusiasts out of anyone, with fine art, fashion and live music to seal the deal. ftlconcours.com

STONE CRAB FESTIVAL N AP L E S

Oct. 29–31 The best of Florida’s signature seafood harvesters celebrate the opening of stone crab season at the Stone Crab Festival, hosted by the waterfront businesses that define the area. stonecrabfestival.com

MIAMI BOOK FAIR MIAMI

nov. 14–21 Floridians with a penchant for page-turners can nerd out with their favorite authors at this beloved book fair. Past guests have included Margaret Atwood, Debbie Harry and Richard Russo. You may even see some familiar Flamingo faces! miamibookfair.com

ART BASEL, NYC CONCOURS & FORT L AUDERDALE CONCOURS

Editor’s Note: Due to COVID-19,

ART BASEL MIAMI BEACH MIAMI BEACH

Dec. 2–4

From the fair that brought us the infamous duct-taped banana, which sold for $120,000, Art Basel Miami Beach returns to once again push the boundaries of conventional art. As the continent’s most comprehensive contemporary art fair, Art Basel showcases the work of more than 4,000 artists from more than 260 galleries across the globe inside the enormous Miami Beach Convention Center. Admire installations from established and emerging artisans and maybe even spot an A-list celebrity or two ducking into exclusive parties across the Magic City. It’s not just the convention center that’s brimming with art. During the fair, museums and galleries throughout the city host events that elevate the arts in Miami. But just a friendly reminder: Don’t eat the displays. artbasel.com/miami-beach

these events are subject to change.

Above: Peruse rows of antique cars at

the first Fort Lauderdale Concours.

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KEY WEST FOOD AND WINE FESTIVAL

GARLIC FEST

HONDA CLASSIC

KEY WEST

Jan. 26–30

Feb. 12–13

Feb. 21–27

Enjoy a night in Tuscany, a Spanish fiesta and a boozy brunch without leaving the Keys at this festival showcasing local food and wine vendors. keywestfoodandwine festival.com

Break out the breath mints for the “best stinkin’ party in South Florida.” Indulge in garlic gator, a breakfast garlic burger and even a cone piled high with garlic ice cream at this odorous ode to everyone’s favorite herb. garlicfestfl.com

D E L R AY B E A C H

PA L M B E A C H G A R D E N S

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FLORIDIANA ALL THINGS VINTAGE B y E ri c B a rt o n

Left: The Bradfordville

Blues Club entrance

Below: The club is part of the Mississippi Blues Trail.

The Backwater Blues

T

hey had been free about 15 years when a group of formerly enslaved families bought a big piece of land northeast of Tallahassee.

They grew corn, potatoes and sugarcane, and drank moonshine made from cane skimmings. They’d start up a bonfire. Then somebody would break out a harmonica and a diddley bow, a one-stringed guitar that sounds like background music to a story about meeting the devil at the crossroads.

It was nothing more than that until the 1930s. Then traveling blues musicians started heading to the outpost after Tallahassee bars closed for the night. These days it’s called the Bradfordville Blues Club. Owners Gary and Kim Anton first read about the place in the Tallahassee Democrat in 1992, when it had just been reopened after a decade of sitting empty. “It’s in the middle of nowhere, and

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finally I came upon this cinderblock building down a couple of dirt roads and a goat trail in this entirely unlikely location. There were three people in there,” Gary says.

The Antons went out to the club just about every weekend until Gary was hospitalized for pancreatitis in 1999. “I learned real quickly how fragile life is,” he says. The blues club went up for sale in 2002, and Gary bought it. The club’s oral history has been passed down from the landowners, the Henry family. They told about the old one-room schoolhouse, the baseball diamond and the sheriff who harassed them about the music, then hauled off a Black man whom nobody saw again.

The current building, the size of a twobedroom house, was built in 1964. It’s full of portraits of blues greats who are said to have played there. The space comfortably holds about 80 people, and the bonfire, in the same

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spot where freedmen once gathered, roars during shows. The place makes little money, Gary says.

“We are an unintentional nonprofit. We stay alive through donations from the community.”

That local support has seen the club through hurricanes and even the pandemic.

The Antons say they are grooming longtime fans William Stinson and Tammy Makowiecki to take over the place, hopefully later this year. “We’ve had a lot of fun, but we have grandkids, and we want to travel,” Gary says.

No matter what happens to the club, music will continue, at least on the day after Christmas. That’s when the Henry family holds a reunion. They might play baseball and barbecue, and gather around the bonfire, a lot like folks did way back when.

@T HEFLA M INGOMAG

JEREMIAH STANLE Y

Down a goat path on land bought by freedmen, the Bradfordville Blues Club rocks on

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