Pioneering Palm Beach

by Ginger L Pedersen

  The nearest large town was Eustis. This town has gone through many name changes but was finally christened after the large lake nearby, named for General Abraham Eustis, who saw service in the Seminole Wars. Eustis is eleven miles from Zellwood via trail, which meant a wagon ride of a few hours. The town had a large hotel (the Ocklawaha Hotel), a telegraph service, steamer service on the lake, a grocery and a hardware store.

  One of the humorous stories Birdie related happened during the cottage construction in Zellwood. Fred had come back to the cabin from the cottage building site without his tools. Birdie asked him where they were, and Fred replied that he left them under the new house, wrapped up in an old coat; he thought that was better than lugging them home each evening. That evening, Bruno did not return from his evening run. A restless night was had in the Dewey household, sick with worry as to Bruno’s fate in the wilds of Florida—had he met his fate with an alligator or some other misfortune?

  The next morning, they heard a rustling at the front door. Birdie opened the door, and Bruno trotted in happily, looking well rested and with a voracious appetite. Fred and Birdie greeted him with big hugs, which amused Bruno. In spite of being tired from the restless night, Fred proceeded over to the building site but returned after a few minutes to tell Birdie that he had solved the mystery of Bruno’s disappearance. Under the house by the tools were Bruno’s telltale paw prints around the tools. He had slept there during the night to protect Fred’s tools: “He had watched Fred arranging and leaving the tools, the while making up his own mind that it was an unwise thing to do, and evidently deciding to see to it later.”

  The newly built cottage in Zellwood was outfitted with furniture and a “chicken park” to supply eggs and poultry. The Deweys were not shy about trying “camp food.” She wrote that they tried roast opossum, stewed gopher tortoise and alligator. Birdie’s description of alligator steak is worth noting: “When the steak was cut the meat looked white and fine-grained, like the more delicate kinds of fish. When cooked it was very inviting, being a compromise between fish and the white meat of domestic fowls. We enjoyed it very much and were loud in our praises of alligator steak, but we didn’t want any more! I cooked the rest of it for Bruno, and he ate one more meal of it; then he struck. We have since heard that most people who try alligator steak have the same experience. A first meal is thoroughly enjoyed, but one not brought up on such a diet never gets beyond the second.” Her account of alligator meat may be one the first literary accounts of the long-running joke that says alligator meat “tastes just like chicken.”

  The Deweys settled into their pine woods cottage in Zellwood and started their pioneering efforts. They had enough money to cover their expenses for a year, but that first season, they discovered that the land they purchased was not at all suited for vegetable growing. As she put it, “[O]ur whole crop of vegetables would not have filled a two-quart measure.” There was no more money to wait for the orange trees to mature, which takes five to seven years. They began to realize that the orange grove estate dream was not going to happen, as they had followed her cousin, the “dreamer of dreams” who had not led them to a place where their own dreams could be realized.

  As Fred conducted business in Eustis, a friend and local merchant, referred to only as “Hawkes” in Bruno, learned of Fred’s skills as a bookkeeper. He offered Fred a position as a bookkeeper in his Eustis store. Fred thought about it on the ride home to Zellwood and discussed it with Birdie. It seemed like the solution to their financial dilemma. She was dismayed at the thought of Fred returning to office work, as well as giving up so soon on their little orange grove estate: “We had seen it in imagination blossoming as the rose, a quiet little nest, far from the madding crowd. And now to abandon it at the beginning and go back to village life, it was leaving poetry for the flattest of prose.”

  The Deweys decided to try living in Eustis. Fred secured three upstairs rooms in a house in Eustis, and she wrote, “We do not like living in the homes of other people, so as soon as possible we made arrangements for two town lots, and put up a little cottage.” And from this description of the lot purchase, the mystery of Lemonville was solved. Land records show that the Deweys bought two town lots in Eustis on July 7, 1883, from Guilford David Clifford. Clifford was one of Eustis’s leading citizens, having platted large parts of the town and running the general store. Clifford is undoubtedly the “Hawkes” that Birdie mentions in Bruno for whom Fred had agreed to take a position as a bookkeeper. The Deweys bought Lots 9 and 10, Block 26, in the Clifford Division of Eustis.

  The first thought was the remote possibility that this little cottage could somehow still exist. Through the help of Louise Carter, historian at the Eustis Historical Society, old Eustis plat maps were located; the maps revealed another startling find—the Dewey house had been located on Dewey Street. Was this just a coincidence, or was the street name connected to Fred and Birdie? Carter explained that it was the tradition of the time to name the street for the first settler living on the street, in this case the Deweys. The cottage, however, had not survived the century that had passed and had been demolished sometime in the 1960s. But Dewey Street remains, and the story of how it was named is now known to town historians.

  It can be speculated as to why Birdie essentially shrouded the name of Eustis as “Lemonville.” The best hypothesis is that she did not wish to harm her cousin’s feelings or shine any negative light on the town of Eustis, a place to which she returned to many times over the years, and Central Florida in general.

  They sold the Zellwood land and settled into their life in Eustis. Fred returned to office work, and Birdie was once again keeping house in a small village, much like the life they had left in Salem. One adventure did await them, though: an invitation to attend a ball with the president at that time, Chester A. Arthur. In Bruno, this episode is presented as a “ball with the Governor,” but the evening with President Arthur is undoubtedly the event in question. In all likelihood, they secured the invitation through Mr. Clifford, being an influential businessman. President Arthur was in Florida hoping to improve his ailing health. The president’s party set forth in April 1883 for a Florida respite. President Arthur arrived in Jacksonville via train but did not stay the night as smallpox had broken out in the city. He carried on via steamer to Sanford, where he stayed for a few days. He then fished for several days in the Kissimmee River. The party did not venture farther southward, as the telegraph lines stopped there and the president needed to keep contact with Washington, D.C.

  President Arthur returned to attend the ball at Sanford but was sunburned and not in a social mood. Fred and Birdie had left Eustis aboard a steamer to attend the ball but were caught in a storm on the lake and arrived too late to attend the ball; rooms were scarce in Sanford, and they shared a room with another couple left stranded after the storm. They never did get to meet President Arthur on his Florida jaunt.

  Their time living in Eustis was short. Birdie explained, “In spite of our snug little home in Lemonville, we never felt quite settled there. We were not built for village life. Country life is good, and city life is good; but in a village one has all the drawbacks of both, with the rewards of neither. So it was not long before we resolved on another change.”

  The Deweys sold the Eustis cottage for $450 to William Gable on December 1, 1883, thus ending the first chapter of their Florida pioneer life. They decided to return to St. Augustine, where they rented a cottage in 1884, to see what properties they could purchase. Fred continued to work in Eustis for a few weeks, sometimes leaving Birdie in Bruno’s care in St. Augustine. Birdie was no doubt at this time submitting articles for publication in the popular magazines and periodicals of the time, and she painted souvenirs for St. Augustine gift shops. She also painted small scenes of the area such as lighthouses and beaches. One great-great-grandniece commented that if it were not for her writing and painting, they would have “starved.” Examples of her paintings have not been found. But nothing in St. Augus
tine seemed to be to their liking as far as property. Once again, they found themselves in Tocoi to take the train back to Jacksonville, to see what the Florida metropolis could offer. What awaited them there, at fate’s hand, brought them a sadness that they felt for the rest of their lives, as well as led to events in history that to a large part contributed to their being so lost to time.

  “Night in a Long White-Draped Room”

  With the properties in Zellwood and Eustis sold, and finding nothing interesting in St. Augustine, the Deweys found themselves in Jacksonville in the middle of the busy 1884 tourist season. No cottages were available for rent, so the Deweys found a boardinghouse that suited their needs. They had a long room with a river view, and Birdie had a “lamp stove,” a small kerosene device that could be used for both cooking and illumination. Fred found a job with Thomas V. Cashen, a leading businessman who had one of the largest lumberyards in Jacksonville. After a time, they rented a cottage. Jacksonville’s tourist industry was booming at this time, and they remained in the cottage until the next year. East Jacksonville was their next stop, and the city directory showed them living on Mattie Street. Fred’s position was listed as bookkeeper at Wallace and Lasher, a prominent lumber business. By this time, another pet had found its way into the Dewey household, a cat named “Catsie” that Birdie called “the very moral of Rebecca.”

  In 1885, Birdie was twenty-nine years old and Fred forty-eight. Finally, the Deweys came to know the joys of parenthood with the birth of their first child, a baby girl, whom Birdie only refers to as “Little Blossom” in Bruno: “Sometimes Little Blossom lay across my knees, the firelight mirrored in her thoughtful eyes, her pink toes curling and uncurling to the heat. Sometimes she lay cradled in Fred’s arms, while he crooned old ditties remembered from his own childhood.”

  Childhood disease was prevalent at that time, and infant mortality rates were high. Birdie had been worried about Little Blossom as she did not seem to be growing as she should. Outbreaks of yellow fever, malaria and even smallpox were common in Jacksonville, and such diseases proved to be especially dangerous to infants and children. The Deweys rented a summer cottage in East Jacksonville along the seashore to try to avoid disease and have fresh air for the baby. Fred commuted to his job, and Birdie, Bruno and Little Blossom enjoyed the seashore. It is possible that the seashore cottage they stayed in belonged to Mr. Cashen, who had a cottage on the beach to live in while he supervised construction of a nearby hotel.

  But fate, in its sadness and finality, had its sights on Little Blossom: “It is night in a long white-draped room. One end of it is lighted by a lamp having a rose-colored shade. In the middle of the lighted end stands a crib. A little white robed form lies within. The pink light so simulates a glow of health that the mother, sitting beside the crib, bends low, thinking the little breast heaves. But no. The waxen cheeks chill her lips.” Little Blossom had died, scarcely after her life had begun. It is a gripping description of losing a child, the only child ever to be born of Fred and Birdie. She stated in a 1930 letter, “I had wished a house-full of babies,” but it was not to be.

  The question of whether Little Blossom’s story was a true one remained a puzzle for months. At that time, there was no requirement to register a death with the county or state; no records were found of the baby’s death, and searching was hampered by not having the child’s first name. It was difficult to imagine that such a sad story was related in Bruno if not true. Everything else in the book was supported by the paper record—dates, land transactions and other unnamed persons whose identities were revealed through investigation.

  And so it was with Little Blossom, too. The authors followed each of Birdie’s brothers and sisters using census records and other demographic databases. In looking at Florida death records, a W.M. Spilman was found, born in 1854 and died in 1926 in Jacksonville; it was known that Birdie’s brother, William Magill Spilman, was born in 1854. A call to the cemetery revealed that William Magill Spilman, Birdie’s brother, was buried in the Greenlawn Cemetery (the former Dixie Pythian Cemetery) in Jacksonville. But the cemetery representative had another startling finding: buried next to William in an unmarked grave in the infant section was an Elizabeth Dewey. Little Blossom had been found.

  Named for Birdie’s mother, Eliza, Birdie had the infant’s remains moved to the Greenlawn Cemetery, which did not open until 1918. The book Bruno again proved to be an accurate and biographical account of the Deweys’ life. The fact that the Deweys had no children who survived is greatly responsible for why they have been forgotten by Florida historians. There was no one to tell their story and ensure their place in Florida history.

  After Little Blossom’s passing, Birdie returned to their home in East Jacksonville. She wrote, “No crib stands by the fireplace; no tiny garments are spread out to air. All is orderly as in the years that now seem so far away. She sits with book or needle. The book falls to her knee, the work slips to the floor; tears steal down her cheeks.”

  The death occurred at a time when there were no support groups and no mental health counseling, only the comfort from each other and their faith. Of course, Bruno was a great comfort, but the years were catching up to the beloved dog. She wrote, “We sit alone, we three, in the twilight—Fred and I, with Bruno at our feet—talking of the future. We speculate on the beyond, hoping it will not be the conventional Heaven, with harps and crowns. We long for a sheltered nook, near the River of Life, where we and Little Blossom can resume the life so happily begun here, going over to the Happy Hunting Grounds to get Bruno, and to the Cat Heaven for Rebecca and Catsie. Then, our family circle complete, we would settle down to an eternity of HOME.”

  Bruno died as well, not long after Little Blossom. This double blow left the Deweys hopeless and discouraged. Their orange grove dream was gone, they had lost their baby and they had lost their comforter, protector and friend. And thus, the chronicle of Bruno ends.

  They undoubtedly considered a return to their northern home. They had endured six years in Florida that had brought much hardship. But the Deweys could not give up on Florida. There was something yet to find, a jewel shining to the south that awaited them.

  The Lake Worth Country

  It was 1886, and a new chronicle was to begin. This part of the Dewey story was discovered through Birdie’s book From Pine Woods to Palm Groves, a serialized novel. This book would have never been rediscovered had it not been mentioned in an old newspaper article. The August 27, 1909 edition of the Maysville Public Ledger published an article titled “Maysville’s Gifted Daughter.” It noted, “Mrs. Dewey has a serial story now appearing in The Florida Review entitled From Pine Woods to Palm Groves.”

  The only library that had a complete set of the Florida Review was the Jacksonville Public Library. It was not known how many parts the series had or what years of the Dewey journey it covered, as the material was not indexed or available through the Internet. It turned out to be an eight-chapter book. The book opens with an author’s note: “The reader who is familiar with Bruno and The Blessed Isle will see that From Pine Woods to Palm Groves is intended to bridge the interval between them.” The book provides a fresh account of pioneering life in Palm Beach County, one that had gone unnoticed by historians for more than a century. But its time had come to be uncovered and the wonderful story to be retold.

  The book’s first chapter provides a glimpse into Birdie’s ideas on the power of one’s surroundings on the spirit: “When all else fails, Wisdom commands: Seek changed environment. Go somewhere and begin anew. Change affects the spirit through every sense. Hope and courage follow revived interest. Body and mind are made whole. Life begins again from a new starting point, and there appears a new Heaven and a new Earth.”

  And so the Deweys made a most daring decision: venture southward to the great frontier that lay to the south. “All Southern Florida bordering the ocean ever seemed to us a land of romance, fanned by mysterious, spice-laden breezes.” They sailed to this mysterious place
and were among the first to discover the paradise of South Florida long before the rest of the world, as well as to be witness to the creation of a world-famous paradise and playground for the elite.

  In February 1887, Fred and Birdie collected together their “household gods,” those few belongings that make a house a home: books, souvenirs and pictures. But what was this mythical place, this “Lake Worth Country,” that was to become their paradise? Even in prehistoric times, the people who lived in the area that would become Palm Beach County did not number many souls. The earliest inhabitants, the Ais, Tequestas and the Jeagas, were Indian tribes who had lived on the coastal barrier islands for thousands of years. They, too, had an eye for fine real estate, enjoying the oceanfront with its breezes and plentiful bounty from Lake Worth, the then freshwater lake that runs twenty-one miles from present-day Palm Beach Gardens southward to Boynton Beach. These earliest inhabitants left behind immense oyster shell mounds containing their artifacts and sand mounds containing their dead. The Spanish decimated the indigenous tribes and brought disease that killed many Indians, save a few taken away as slaves and some who may have intermarried with the Seminoles. Most of their shell mounds were eventually trucked away for road fill.

  A new people were soon to arrive on the scene. General Andrew Jackson drove thousands of Creek Indians from Georgia into the Spanish Territory of Florida, and skirmishes with the Indians began in about 1814. Much speculation exists as to how the term “Seminole” originated. The Spanish referred to the Indians as the cimmarón, which meant “wild men” or “runaway men.” The tribes then began to refer to themselves as the as yat’siminoli, which means “free people” in the Creek language, and eventually the word “Seminole” came into use. The Seminoles lived and thrived in the Everglades; they became difficult to control, especially when they began harboring runaway slaves from southern plantations (the “Black Seminoles”). The subsequent two Seminole Wars were meant to oust the inhabitants and send them westward to reservations in Indian territory, but despite thousands of deaths on both sides, hundreds of Seminole Indians remained tucked away in the Everglades by the time the wars had ended in 1858.