The Fountain of Youth

You’ve probably heard the old saying that truth is stranger than fiction. That could be said of De Leon Springs in Volusia County, which has long been reputed to be the Fountain of Youth that Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon was searching for when he came to Florida in 1513. It turns out this was a bit of creative myth-making–old Ponce never made it quite that far inland. That being said, De Leon Springs is still a naturally beautiful spot with a fascinating past.

Excerpt of a 1985 map published by the Florida Department of Transportation showing the location of Ponce de Leon Springs State Park in relation to Orlando, Daytona Beach and Ocala. Click or tap the image to enlarge it.

Excerpt of a 1985 map published by the Florida Department of Transportation showing the location of De Leon Springs State Park in relation to Orlando, Daytona Beach and Ocala. Click or tap the image to enlarge it.

Evidence suggests that the first Floridians to live near De Leon Springs arrived at least 6,000 years ago. In 1985 and 1990, dugout canoes made of yellow pine and bald cypress were discovered in the spring. Carbon dating confirmed that they came from the Middle Archaic Period (6,000-3,000 B.C.E.), making them two of the oldest watercraft ever found in the Western Hemisphere. Native Americans were still living near the springs when the Spanish arrived in the 16th century, although it wasn’t Ponce de Leon who first encountered them. Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, adelantado of Florida and founder of St. Augustine, led an expedition up the St. Johns River in 1566 and made it within about 10 miles of De Leon Springs. Menéndez had been hoping that the St. Johns connected with Lake Okeechobee, but after a confrontation with the local Mayaca natives he decided to turn back.

Portrait of Pedro Menendez de Aviles (1565).

Portrait of Pedro Menéndez de Avilés (1565).

There is no evidence to suggest that the Spanish ever settled at De Leon Springs, but it’s clear the area was considered valuable territory. William Panton and Thomas Forbes, British merchants who traded regularly with local Native Americans, both received grants of land surrounding the springs from King George III during Florida’s brief stint as a British province in the late 1700s. This may have been part of a move to drum up some business with the natives still living in the vicinity. One survey plat belonging to William Panton shows a road heading from the springs toward “Panton & Forbes’ Upper Indian Store.”

Excerpt of a 1779 survey plat depicting a plot of land near Spring Garden granted to William Panton by the British government. Box 32, Folder 23, Confirmed Spanish Land Grants (Series S990), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the full map and the entire land grant dossier.

Excerpt of a 1779 survey plat depicting a plot of land near Spring Garden granted to William Panton by the British government. Box 32, Folder 23, Confirmed Spanish Land Grants (Series S990), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the full map and the entire land grant dossier.

The two traders seem not to have established anything too permanent at the springs, however, because in 1804 the Spanish granted a 2,020-acre plot of land to William Williams in almost exactly the same spot, with the future De Leon Springs right in the center. William Williams and had emigrated to Spanish Florida with other members of his family from the Bahamas in 1803. William had originally received a land grant at New Smyrna about 26 miles to the southeast, but he found the land unsatisfactory and asked to swap for something better. He called his new possession “Spring Garden,” and established a plantation growing corn, cotton and other crops.

Excerpt of an undated survey plat showing the overlapping land claims of William Williams, William Panton and Thomas Forbes (ca. 1825). Box 34, Folder 7, Confirmed Spanish Land Grants (Series S990), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the entire plat and the complete Spanish land grant dossier submitted by the heirs of William Williams.

Excerpt of an undated survey plat showing the overlapping land claims of William Williams, William Panton and Thomas Forbes (ca. 1825). Box 34, Folder 7, Confirmed Spanish Land Grants (Series S990), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the entire plat and the complete Spanish land grant dossier submitted by the heirs of William Williams.

William Williams died in 1808, and his family later sold the Spring Garden property to Joseph and Jane Woodruff of McIntosh County, Georgia. Woodruff had intended to start growing sugar on the site, but he died before he could get his plan into action. A new owner, Colonel Orlando Rees, decided he too would try his hand at growing sugar cane, and by 1832 his operation was up and running, with a water-powered mill taking advantage of the springs’ rapid flow. An 1834 government survey map shows the location of both the mill (called the “sugar house”) and the Rees family’s home just to the east.

Excerpt of a survey plat showing the location of a sugar mill and dwelling on the property surrounding Spring Garden, later De Leon Springs. The plat was reproduced sometime in the early 20th century from the 1836 original. Box 65, Township Survey Plats (Series S617), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the complete map.

Excerpt of a survey plat showing the location of a sugar mill and dwelling on the property surrounding Spring Garden, later De Leon Springs. The plat was reproduced sometime in the early 20th century from the 1836 original. Box 65, Township Survey Plats (Series S617), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the complete map.

The Rees sugar plantation was destroyed at the outbreak of the Second Seminole War in 1835, but a descendant later sold the property to a man named Thomas Starke. In the years leading up to the Civil War, the Starke family rebuilt and enlarged the mill, and during the war they supplied sugar, corn meal and other commodities to the Confederacy. In 1864, Union forces pushed through to the Spring Garden area, hoping to catch the “notorious rebel” Thomas Starke, as U.S. treasury agent A.G. Brown called him. Starke had fled with his slaves and a large supply of corn, but the Union managed to capture 19 bales of Sea Island cotton. They also destroyed the sugar mill and–according to legend–pushed the equipment into the springs.

Artist's rendering of the old sugar mill at Spring Garden, contained in a booklet about the Ponce de Leon Springs Inn, built in 1925. Florida Collection, State Library of Florida.

Artist’s rendering of the old sugar mill at Spring Garden, contained in a booklet about the Ponce de Leon Springs Inn (1925). Florida Collection, State Library of Florida.

Spring Garden began a whole new life when Major George Norris of New York purchased the land in 1872. Norris rebuilt the sugar mill and established a successful orange grove. He also built a hotel–the Spring Garden House–and advertised it primarily to northern tourists. At some point in the 1880s, Norris seems to have shifted his focus more toward his booming citrus business and left the business of putting up a good hotel to his brother, Abijah Hart Norris. “Hart,” as he was called, put out newspaper advertisements promising to give “sufficient land” and 10,000 board feet of lumber to “anyone who will put up a good Hotel.”

Advertisement for the Spring Garden House in The Florida Agriculturist, October 15, 1879.

Advertisement for the Spring Garden House in The Florida Agriculturist, October 15, 1879.

Around that same time, local leaders decided to establish a new post office called De Leon Springs. The old Spring Garden post office remained in place until 1933; this new office was for the growing village located just south of the spring itself. This was likely the beginning of the effort to identify the spring and the surrounding area with Ponce de Leon’s famous Fountain of Youth.

In 1925, the new owners of the spring, F.N. Conrad of Daytona and C.M. Greiner of Seabreeze, opened up a new hotel and doubled down on the Ponce connection, publishing a booklet extolling the site’s storied past. “Picture, if you can, such a spot with all these modern sources of amusement, with every modern convenience, not detracting in the least from its beauty and from the romance of its historical background,” they gushed. “Picture all this, we say, and you have Ponce de Leon Springs.” The “Florida Boom” hadn’t quite burst just yet at this point, so they did what many other developers were doing around the state–in addition to the hotel they also offered land for homes. A folded map inside their booklet showed the land around Ponce de Leon Springs laid out into lots, plus a golf course and space for farming.

Ponce de Leon Springs: Florida's Great Natural Wonder, the Fountain of Youth (1925). Florida Collection, State Library of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the entire booklet.

Ponce de Leon Springs: Florida’s Great Natural Wonder, the Fountain of Youth (1925). Florida Collection, State Library of Florida. Click or tap the image to view the entire booklet.

 

A colored plat map showing the layout of the prospective Ponce de Leon Springs development. Note the golf course, farm, and

A colored plat map showing the layout of the prospective Ponce de Leon Springs development. Note the golf course, farm, and “colored town” included (Florida Collection, State Library of Florida). Click or tap the image to enlarge it.

Ponce de Leon Springs (ca. 1925).

Ponce de Leon Springs (ca. 1925).

The new hotel, the De Leon Springs Inn, closed after a time and the would-be residential paradise surrounding it never quite got off the ground. Still, the springs continued to attract visitors. In June 1953, the springs reopened as a roadside tourist attraction with a zoo, a jungle cruise and even water-skiing elephants. By the 1970s, facing a lag in business as many roadside attractions did in those years, the owners contemplated selling the property to developers. Locals petitioned to have the site turned into a state park instead, and in 1982 Ponce de Leon Springs officially became a part of Florida’s state park system. The focus is a bit more on the cool, refreshing quality of the springs these days rather than their ties to the Fountain of Youth, but there’s still plenty of Florida history to be enjoyed. Stop by next time you’re in the area!

Entrance to the Ponce de Leon Springs attraction featuring the Spanish explorer himself (1954).

Entrance to the Ponce de Leon Springs attraction featuring the Spanish explorer himself (1954).

 

A County Called Mosquito

Florida hasn’t had a new county in almost a century, but in the territorial and early statehood years they popped up all the time. Deciding to form a new county and coming up with a name for it must have been a very serious matter–after all, you can’t just go renaming a county once it’s been established. Or can you? As it turns out, Florida has established several counties that were later given new names, either because the old one proved unappealing or the citizens simply found something they liked better.

Excerpt from H.S. Tanner's 1833 map of Florida, with Mosquito County shaded in pink along Florida's east coast. Click or tap the image to see a zoomable version of the entire map.

Excerpt from H.S. Tanner’s 1833 map of Florida, with Mosquito County shaded in pink along Florida’s east coast. Click or tap the image to see a zoomable version of the entire map.

The best example of this is Mosquito County, created by Florida’s territorial legislative council on December 24, 1824. Clearly no one consulted the local chamber of commerce before coming up with this gem of a name. Mosquito covered a massive amount of territory 190 miles long and 60 miles wide, carved from what had been one of Florida’s two original counties, St. Johns. At the time of its creation, Mosquito County contained within its boundaries all of the land that now belongs to Volusia, Brevard, St. Lucie, Indian River, Martin, Seminole, Osceola, Orange, Lake, Polk and Palm Beach counties. Government operations for this behemoth of a county were eventually headquartered at New Smyrna and later Enterprise. We say “eventually” because it took 10 years for the legislature to make it official–and even after that the county records were still kept at St. Augustine for a while.

As for who was responsible for the name, there’s plenty of blame to go around. The Spanish called one of the region’s waterways Barra de Mosquitos as early as the 16th century, no doubt referring to the insects they encountered in the marshier parts of Florida’s Atlantic coast. The territorial legislature then added insult to injury by passing over all the other named features in the area and choosing to name their newest county for that same waterway, then called Mosquito Bar (or Inlet). Really, guys? Couldn’t the new county have been called Ocklawaha County for its northwestern boundary? Or maybe New Smyrna County for one of its oldest European settlements? Or Canaveral County? Anything but Mosquito!

Excerpt of a 1644 map drawn by Willem Janszoon Blaeu, with particular focus on the named waterways along Florida's Atlantic coast. Barra de Mosquitos is indicated with a red arrow. Click or tap the image to view a zoomable version of the complete map.

Excerpt of a 1644 map drawn by Willem Janszoon Blaeu, with particular focus on the named waterways along Florida’s Atlantic coast. Barra de Mosquitos is indicated with a red arrow. Click or tap the image to view a zoomable version of the complete map.

As you might imagine, the name Mosquito didn’t sit well with many of the locals, and it wasn’t long before they began looking for an alternative. In 1842, the legislature passed an act changing the name of Mosquito to Leigh Read County. Read had been a longtime member of the territorial legislative council and a speaker of the Florida House of Representatives. He died April 27, 1841 when he was ambushed and shot by friends of a man he had previously killed in a duel. There was a bit of confusion, however, because even though the two houses of the territorial legislature voted favorably on the act, the clerk who was supposed to take it up to the governor’s office for a signature failed to do so before the legislative session officially closed. As a result, the name Mosquito stuck for the moment.

Map of Florida drawn in 1842 by Sidney Morse and Samuel Breese. Anticipating that Mosquito County would be renamed Leigh Read as a result of the legislative council's action, the mapmakers labeled the territory of Mosquito accordingly. Tap or click the image to view a larger version of the map.

Map of Florida drawn in 1842 by Sidney Morse and Samuel Breese. Anticipating that Mosquito County would be renamed Leigh Read as a result of the legislative council’s action, the mapmakers labeled the territory of Mosquito accordingly. Tap or click the image to view a larger version of the map.

In 1844, a group of 70 citizens of Mosquito County took another stab at trying to change their name by petitioning the legislature. “The name of Mosquito is very unpleasant to many of the citizens,” they explained, asking that the name be changed to Harrison County. The name “Harrison” was almost certainly intended to honor the late President William Henry Harrison, who had died in 1841 after a short 31 days in office. Harrison had found the time to appoint Richard Keith Call to another term as territorial governor during his brief tenure, which may have endeared him to the citizens of Mosquito County.

Petition signed by 73 citizens of Mosquito County, asking for the county to be renamed Harrison, and for the boundaries to be redefined (1844). Box 4, Folder 3, Records of the Territorial Legislative Council (Series S 877), State Archives of Florida. Click on the image to view a larger version of the complete petition and a transcript.

Petition signed by 73 citizens of Mosquito County, asking for the county to be renamed Harrison, and for the boundaries to be redefined (1844). Box 4, Folder 3, Records of the Territorial Legislative Council (Series S 877), State Archives of Florida. Click or tap the image to view a larger version of the complete petition and a transcript.

The legislature did not grant the citizens’ wishes until the following session in 1845. When they did finally pass an act renaming Mosquito County, they passed over the opportunity to honor President Harrison in favor of something that would prove to be a very valuable asset to the people of Central and South Florida–the orange.

Tanner's 1849 map of Florida. Orange County (formerly Mosquito county) is shown in green. Click or tap the image for a zoomable version of the map.

Tanner’s 1849 map of Florida. Orange County (formerly Mosquito county) is shown in green. Click or tap the image for a zoomable version of the map.

Today, Orange County is much smaller than it was back in its original Mosquito County days, but it certainly makes good use of its space. It’s home to a variety of attractions that draw tourists from all over the world each year, as well as the University of Central Florida, Rollins College and Valencia College. Although many of its signature orange groves have disappeared in recent years to make way for other developments, there’s still plenty of Florida citrus culture going on in the region. And that–most Floridians would likely agree–is a much more appropriate attribute to celebrate than the mosquito!

 

Pulling a University Out of a Hat

Most folks know a little something about the name Stetson. Many recognize the name as belonging to a particular style of hat. Many Floridians are also aware of Stetson University, one of the state’s premier institutions of higher learning. But how are these things connected? To answer that question, we need to take a look at the early history of DeLand, Florida.

A very busy Rand McNally map showing DeLand and the surrounding area (1882). From the Florida Map Collection of the State Library of Florida.

A very busy Rand McNally map showing DeLand and the surrounding area (1882). From the Florida Map Collection of the State Library of Florida.

The settlement went by the name “Persimmon Hollow” for a number of years, owing to the large number of persimmon trees that grew wild in the area. In March 1876, baking powder manufacturer Henry Addison DeLand of New York and his brother-in-law O.P. Terry, traveled south to visit this as-yet undeveloped piece of Florida. Terry had bought up acreage around Persimmon Hollow to start an orange grove.

DeLand was impressed with what he saw. The only way to easily reach Persimmon Hollow at that time was by steamboat, but that could be changed. The terrain, he believed, was highly favorable for agriculture. DeLand and Terry set out to build up a large citrus growing operation, with a new town as the center of activity.

Plan of the new Town of DeLand, drawn up by D.D. Rogers in 1883. The map shown is a reproduction of the original, now in the possession of the State Library of Florida.

Plan of the new Town of DeLand, drawn up by D.D. Rogers in 1883. The map shown is a reproduction of the original, now in the possession of the State Library of Florida.

DeLand returned to Persimmon Hollow in October 1876, ready to get to work. Area residents voted in December to name the new town “DeLand” in his honor. A post office was established in 1877, and the town was officially incorporated in 1882.

Group portrait at the DeLand family home in DeLand. Standing third from the left is Henry A. DeLand. His wife Helen DeLand is standing third from the right (photo circa 1880s).

Group portrait at the DeLand family home in DeLand. Standing third from the left is Henry A. DeLand. His daughter Helen is standing third from the right (photo circa 1880s).

Henry DeLand’s vision for the town revolved around the citrus industry, but he also gave considerable attention to education and culture. In 1884, he contributed $10,000 to construct DeLand Academy, which was chartered in 1887 by the Legislature as DeLand University. DeLand and the original trustees hoped the school would put their town on the map as “the Athens of Florida,” a real nucleus of higher education in the state.

DeLand Hall, the first academic building at DeLand University, which later became Stetson University (photo circa 1885).

DeLand Hall, the first academic building at DeLand University, which later became Stetson University (photo circa 1885).

DeLand faithfully supported his namesake university, providing equipment and extra money to cover its deficits. DeLand’s own finances, however, took a turn for the worse in 1886. That year, Florida suffered a serious freeze that destroyed much of the orange crop in the area around DeLand and Volusia County. Henry DeLand had always told the people who purchased land from him that he would buy the land back if they were unsatisfied with it. After the freeze, a number of orange growers asked DeLand to make good on his offer and, true to his word, he did.

This, of course, was a detrimental blow to DeLand’s personal fortune, and he was essentially ruined. Rather than start over in Florida, Henry DeLand returned to New York and resumed his earlier career as a baking powder manufacturer.

Meanwhile, DeLand University needed a benefactor. That’s where John B. Stetson enters the story. Stetson, who had created a very large and successful hat business in Philadelphia by this time, had spent time in Central Florida and became acquainted with John F. Forbes, president of DeLand University. Stetson contributed a significant amount of funding to the school, and was a founding member of the Board of Trustees. In 1889 he became president of the board.

John Batterson Stetson, founding trustee and major donor to DeLand (later Stetson) University (photo circa 1900 - not taken after 1906).

John Batterson Stetson, founding trustee and major donor to DeLand (later Stetson) University (photo circa 1900 – not taken after 1906).

The Trustees began thinking of renaming the university in honor of its sustaining donor. Stetson declined the honor at first, arguing that Henry DeLand’s contributions in founding the school and nurturing it in its early years earned him the honor. The Trustees insisted, however, and so the school became known as the John B. Stetson University from 1889 onward. Since 1951, “Stetson University” has been the official title for most purposes.

Another nod to Stetson’s influence can be found in its athletic teams, which are known as the “Hatters.”

You can find a wealth of images relating to the history of Florida’s institutions of higher learning on Florida Memory. Visit the Florida Photographic Collection and search for your favorite school!

Staying at the Ormond

New Year’s Day is a holiday in itself, but New Year’s Day 1888 was especially sweet for
Ormond Beach. That’s because it was opening day for the grand Ormond Hotel, a grand resort
for wealthy Northerners looking to escape the chilly winters back home.

Hotel Ormond - Ormond Beach (1900).

Hotel Ormond – Ormond Beach (1900).

The name “Ormond” had been associated with the area since James and Emanuel Ormond had
settled a 2,000-acre plantation called “Damietta” in the area during the late Spanish
colonial era. In the 1870s, a group of men from New Britain, Connecticut arrived to seek a
place for establishing a colony of workers from their business, the Corbin Lock Company. At
first they named the area after their hometown, but they decided to change the name to
something more reminiscient of local history. The first post office named Ormond appeared
in 1880, and by 1886 the settlement was a stop along the new St. Johns & Halifax Railroad.

The hotel did not perform well in its first two years, but its location and potential lured
the interest (and money) of developer Henry Flagler. He bought the hotel in 1890 and began
a major expansion project that added three wings, a swimming pool, a casino, a pavilion and
a pier extending out over the Halifax River. The hotel quickly became one of the star
attractions along Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway.

Excerpt of a map of the Florida East Coast Railway system featuring Ormond and the Ormond Hotel (1917).

Excerpt of a map of the Florida East Coast Railway system featuring Ormond and the Ormond Hotel (1917).

Like Flagler’s other hotels, the Ormond was a playground for those with enough money to
enjoy it. Activities included horseback riding, wooded excursion paths, bicycling (which
was then still quite new), sailing and fishing. When the automobile arrived on the scene,
the Ormond gained a new favorite activity: driving and racing along the packed sands of the
nearby beach.

Ranson E. Olds in his Olds Pirate racecar on Ormond Beach (circa 1896).

Ranson E. Olds in his Olds Pirate race car on Ormond Beach (circa 1896).

The Ormond enjoyed considerable popularity during the heyday of the Flagler hotels, playing host at various times to the Rockefellers, the Astors, the Vanderbilts and a number of other famous personalities. John D. Rockefeller liked the place so much he bought the house across the street in 1917 and spent the winters there until his death in 1937.

The hotel changed hands several times in the second half of the twentieth century. On November 24, 1980 the structure was added to the National Register of Historic Places. It was destroyed in 1992 to make way for condominiums, but the original 21-foot wooden cupola is now displayed in Fortunato Park near the Halifax River.

The Ormond Hotel in 1982, surrounded by a growing Ormond Beach.

The Ormond Hotel in 1982, surrounded by a growing Ormond Beach community.

What historic structures are located in your Florida community? Search the Florida Photographic Collection to find images of them!

Dunlawton Sugar Plantation

Have you ever looked at a Florida landmark and thought about all the things it could tell you if it could speak? Some, admittedly, might have been far enough out of the way that they would have very little to say. Others, like the ruins of the Dunlawton Sugar Plantation near Port Orange in Volusia County, might be a little more chatty.

Ruins of the Dunlawton Sugar Plantation at Port Orange (circa 1920s).

Ruins of the Dunlawton Sugar Plantation at Port Orange (circa 1920s).

The Dunlawton Sugar Plantation and its mill have been around since the final years of Spain’s ownership of Florida. Local historians identify the mill’s original owner as Patrick Dean, who may have received the land as part of a grant from the Spanish Crown. Dean reputedly died during an Indian attack, whereupon his land passed to his sister Cecily, wife of local planter John Bunch. The Bunch family had also obtained land from the Spanish, and were prominent citizens in the area.

A map from the Spanish Land Grant documents of John Bunch, who acquired the Dunlawton mill and plantation after the death of its original owner (1818).

A map from the Spanish Land Grant documents of John Bunch, who acquired the Dunlawton mill and plantation after the death of its original owner (1818).

The land changed hands twice more, eventually entering the possession of Charles Lawton of South Carolina. Lawton named the plantation and mill “Dunlawton,” combining his mother’s maiden name with his own name. Lawton sold the property in 1832 to the Anderson family, who were operating the mill at the start of the Second Seminole War in 1835.

The mill was the scene of an early battle between the Florida militia and the Seminoles in January 1836. Major Benjamin Putnam of the Florida Volunteers led two militia companies to Dunlawton to recapture supplies that had been taken by Seminole raiders. The soldiers happened upon a couple of Seminoles, fired, and soon after found themselves under attack. During the course of the battle, about 120 Seminoles and escaped African-American slaves were involved. The militiamen had been young and inexperienced, and likely underestimated the strength of their adversaries. As Seminole War historian John K. Mahon explains, the Dunlawton skirmish “wakened many volunteers to the fact that they were playing with death.”

Excerpt of an 1836 map showing areas affected by the Second Seminole War. The Battle of Dunlawton is indicated with the note "Battle Jany 18."

Excerpt of an 1836 map showing areas affected by the Second Seminole War. The Battle of Dunlawton is indicated with the note “Battle Jany 18.”

The mill was partially destroyed, but it was rebuilt after the war by a John J. Marshall. The property changed hands several times in the ensuing years, and was used for varying purposes. During the Civil War, several of the kettles used for boiling cane juice were re-purposed by the Confederates for saltmaking. The buildings on the property also sheltered Confederate patrols when the weather became rough.

The Dunlawton property changed hands several more times before being purchased by J. Saxton Lloyd, who had the grounds landscaped and turned into a historic park. He retained the ruins of the sugar processing equipment and surrounded them with flowering shrubbery and other plants.

Postcard of Dunlawton Plantation with machinery and interpretive signage (circa 1940s).

Postcard of Dunlawton Plantation with machinery and interpretive signage (circa 1940s).

Dunlawton had one more major transition in its future. In 1952, J. Saxton Lloyd leased the Dunlawton Sugar Mill Gardens to Dr. Perry Sperber, who envisioned a whole new attraction to draw visitors to the property. He built a train that would carry tourists through the gardens past a series of life-size statues of dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures. Sperber called the renovated park “Bongoland.” The dinosaurs were popular both as scenery and for photo opportunities!

Children perched atop a concrete Stegosaurus dinosaur at Bongoland (1959).

Children perched atop a concrete Stegosaurus dinosaur at Bongoland (1959).

J. Saxton Lloyd donated the mill ruins and the Dunlawton property to Volusia County in 1963. Since 1988, the gardens have been open to the public and maintained by a non-profit organization called the Botanical Gardens of Volusia, Inc.

Is there a building in your Florida community that has witnessed a lot of historic changes? Tell us about it by leaving a comment here or on our Facebook page. Also, search the Florida Photographic Collection to see if we have photos of it on Florida Memory!

Daytona Beach and the Earliest Days of Aviation in Florida

Daytona Beach is perfect for sunbathing and swimming, but there’s no telling how many visitors have spent a day there without realizing they were enjoying themselves on one of Florida’s very first runways. Auto racing was already a popular sport at Daytona by the time the Wright brothers made their first successful flight in 1903. The hard sand surface of the upper beach was a perfect natural track for the light, speedy cars being developed by racing enthusiasts. Airplanes were an easy addition to the mix of experimental machines, since the motors in the earliest planes incorporated much of the same technology as automobiles. The result was an age when Daytona Beach served not only as one of the nation’s first racetracks, but also a natural airport.

An early bi-plane on Daytona Beach, built by Carl Bates (1909).

An early bi-plane on Daytona Beach, built by Carl Bates (1909).

As enthusiasm for aviation spread quickly in the 1900s, more and more pilots and their experimental flying machines began appearing on the sand at Daytona. In 1906, New York aviator Israel Ludlow arrived at the auto races in Daytona and Ormond beaches to execute a test flight with a glider contraption he had designed. Charles K. Hamilton, who would go on to become the twelfth person to earn an American pilot’s license, flew the device. Hamilton gripped a tow rope tied to an automobile that pulled his aircraft along the beach by driving quickly across the sand. Once Hamilton left the ground, he released the tow rope and glided, shifting his body weight left and right to steer. The glider flew for about 150 feet before one of the wing ribs broke, sending it crashing to the ground. The glider was seriously damaged, but Hamilton survived.

Preparing for Florida's first glider flight at Ormond Beach near Daytona. Charles Hamilton would soon fly this glider into the air over Florida's Atlantic coast (1906).

Preparing for Florida’s first glider flight at Ormond Beach near Daytona. Charles Hamilton would soon fly this glider into the air over Florida’s Atlantic coast (1906).

Charles K. Hamilton flying a glider designed and constructed by Israel Ludlow of New York over Ormond and Daytona beaches (1906).

Charles K. Hamilton flying a glider designed and constructed by Israel Ludlow of New York over Ormond and Daytona beaches (1906).

Daytona became a popular testing site for all kinds of aviation innovations. In 1910, Edward Andrews of Chicago flew the first twin-engine plane ever built from Daytona Beach. It flew for about 100 feet at an altitude of only 6 feet before breaking apart. Interestingly, Andrews later decided to temporarily buck the flight mechanization trend and develop a gliding apparatus worn on the arms. In 1911, he attached wings of wood and cloth to his arms and shoulders and had a car pull him along the beach until he took flight. The voyage was successful, but afterward Andrews had this to say:

“I have found this to be dangerous. A machine, which if free would be perfectly safe, is made as erratic as a child’s kite by the attachment of a rope. I, for one, shall seek other means of getting into the air.”

 

Edwin F. Andrews is towed behind a car on Daytona Beach while wearing his gliding apparatus (1911).

Edwin F. Andrews is towed behind a car on Daytona Beach while wearing his gliding apparatus (1911).

First twin-engine airplane, designed by Edwin Andrews of Chicago - Daytona Beach (1910).

First twin-engine airplane, designed by Edwin Andrews of Chicago – Daytona Beach (1910).

The daring and edgy spirit of Daytona attracted a large number of aviation exhibitionists. John McCurdy, Canada’s first licensed pilot, pioneer aviatrix Ruth Law, and future million-mile commercial pilot Ervie Ballough were all among the throng of eager aviators who flew up and down the sandy coast in the 1910s and 1920s.

Over time, the number of planes and people visiting Daytona Beach necessitated regulations to ensure public safety. At first, Daytona’s city government determined the best method was to restrict landings and take-offs to the beach and keep them away from town. Once airstrips appeared at Bethune Point and farther inland in the 1920s, the beach was no longer deemed the safest place for these activities. In the 1930s, the city passed an ordinance prohibiting the use of the beach as an airstrip.

John McCurdy, Canada's first licensed airplane pilot, with his aircraft at Daytona Beach (1911).

John McCurdy, Canada’s first licensed airplane pilot, with his aircraft at Daytona Beach (1911).

Ruth Law lands her plane on Daytona Beach (1915).

Ruth Law lands her plane on Daytona Beach (1915).

Burgess-Wright biplane flying over Daytona Beach. The pilot, Phillips Ward Page of Massachusetts, was hired to fly guests of the Clarendon Hotel over the beach as a novelty (1912).

Burgess-Wright biplane flying over Daytona Beach. The pilot, Phillips Ward Page of Massachusetts, was hired to fly guests of the Clarendon Hotel over the beach as a novelty (1912).

Daytona was one of the most popular spots for early aviation experiments in Florida, but there were certainly others. Search the Florida Photographic Collection for more images depicting early aviation in the Sunshine State!