Airstream Ranch

While I'm working on a few updates for the second printing of Secret Tampa Bay, I thought I'd shift gears slightly with a poem remembering one of the many roadside attractions that has vanished during the course of my time here in Tampa. Blink and you'll miss it - that's what someone said to me about Florida when I moved here. How very right they were.

Airstream Ranch

There it was planted
Between billboards
Like a question mark
At the end of wordless puzzled glances
From those zipping past on I-4.
Less than a footnote now,
A background blur in an overexposed polaroid photo
That belongs to the age of
Garish pink painted pachyderms and
Mediterranean revival style
Shopping mall food courts.
Our roadside temples of the mysteries
Raised on the bones of conquistadors
Fading faster here in the sun,
A heap of broken images
Uploaded to the cloud
And then carted away for scrap;
These memories of minor monuments
That have at last outlived
Even their own uselessness.

Oldest Tampa Bay Acknowledgements

This has been a long while in coming, in no small part due to the slightly overwhelming number of individuals and organizations that provided me with critical insight, documents, photos and support throughout the process of writing Oldest Tampa Bay. With each book I write, it seems the list of those deserving mention grows, while the space in which I have to thank them does not. So I thought to use this blog to try and name as many of those as I can – almost inevitably there will be some person or persons who very much deserve a thank you and find themselves missing from this list. For any such omission(s), I apologize in advance.

To begin with, The Hillsborough, Pinellas, Manatee and Sarasota library systems, TampaPix, and Florida Memory (the State Library and Archives of Florida) were all absolutely essential for research and photos. Just as indispensable was the input I received from the Tampa Bay History Center, Nevin Sitler and Rui Farias at the St. Petersburg Museum of History, everyone at the Clearwater Historical Society, the Dunedin History Museum, Susan Carter and Melissa Sullebarger at the Henry B. Plant Museum, Monica Drake, Sandy Bozeman and everyone at Heritage Village and the Pinellas County Historical Society, Robert Austin and everyone at the Weedon Island Preserve Cultural and Natural History Center, Krystal Miner and Rachel DesRosier at Manatee Village Historical Park, and Catherine Wilkins and Bob Grunow at the Gulf Beaches Historical Museum.

A great many local businesses, organizations, families and individuals also generously shared their time, stories and photos with me. This includes Doris DuBose, Pastor Alan Harris and the committee at Beulah Baptist Church, Rob Feierstadt of Blue Devil Tatoo, “Jungle John” Paner, Vasile Faklis, Dan Hayman, Carl L Zielonka, DDS, Jason Alessi and everyone at Alessi Bakery, Jenny Noell at Treasure Island Fun Center, Doug Morgan, Bob at Bahi Hut, Aaron Virgin, CEO of Save Our Seabirds, Inc., Jim Brady and family, Joseph Vars at the Belleview Inn, Gil Bakshi, Kelly Fairchild at The Circus Arts Conservatory, Cathy Salustri, Brandy Stark, PhD,Bob Feckner and Allan Hurd at the Blueberry Patch, Mike Kush at Lake Como Co-op, Inc., Phillip Cacciatore, J.C. Newman Historian and Museum Curator Holden Rasmussen, Jennifer Tyson at Sunken Gardens, Don Taylor, Cherie Jacobs at Tampa Electric, Nina Acevedo, Ward J. Friszolowski at Harvard Jolly Architecture, Brian Schaefer, Paul Zitzer and everyone at Skatepark of Tampa, Scott Fairbairn at Tampa Yacht & Country Club, Florida State Historical Marker Program Director Michael Hart, and Nainan Desai at the Hindu Temple of Florida. James Crouch at Hillsbrough County Parks and Recreation deserves an extra special mention for helping me identify the oldest dog parks in the county (no doubt one of the stranger questions he’s been asked). Similarly, Richard Fifer shared with me rare first-hand experience and photos from the early days of the phosphate mining industry.

I cannot adequately express my thanks to all of the fellow authors, writers and historians who came to my aid in many ways on multiple occasions. Craig Pittman reminded me that Centro Asturiano de Tampa has a theater, Josh McMorrow-Hernandez very kindly reviewed an early draft and made several suggestions which considerably improved the work. Local food guru Andrew Huse answered several of my questions, as did Kristen Hare (and even though I haven’t definitively figured out the area’s oldest Chinese restaurant, I had many very good meals in the course of my search).

Reedy Press could not have been more supportive through the process, even when it looked like my efforts might go off the rails. Josh and Barbara very patiently talked me off the literary ledge, Jill and Jennifer worked through more edits with me than any of us probably expected, and Alex, Kaitlyn and Mischelle have done an extraordinary job of getting the book in stores and in the news. A better relationship with a publisher I could not hope to find.

Then there are all the friends and family (both work and blood relations), who have been there for me time and time again. Gary Silber, Jacob Gehl, Bobby Conway, Jason Ewing, Larry Hayward, Barry Mac, Andy Tschudy, Tom and Candy, Debbie and Howard, Andy and Bob, David and Myrna, Ali, Jeremy Seth and Adam, Jon, Jeff, Jenna, Barbara and Jon, My Tiger Dust friends, my Grant Thornton family, my Your Signature Resume colleagues, Mike, Krista, Rochelle and everyone at the Jolley Trolley and anyone else left unnamed here – you known who you are and what you mean to me.

Saved for last is unquestionably the one most deserving of thanks – my wife, Jennifer Weiner, without whom I would be at best eloquent but dysfunctional. Your love and support is without measure or comparison, and I appreciate it always. Tinker Bell the Shih Tzu, our fearless protector, has also earned a mention here for helping me stay mostly sane these last few books and years.

Recommended Reading

There's nothing quite like a major hurricane to put a crimp in one's exploration of weird and unusual places. Such is the case for me at the moment - with Hurricane Ian barreling towards the Tampa Bay area, my wife and I decided to heed the evacuation order. With our fierce and fluffy companion, Tinker Bell the Shih Tzu, we made our way up to Jacksonville, where we are currently hunkered down for the next few days. And even though I may not get a chance to check out Chamblin Bookmine, Sally Dark Rides or the pink dinosaur known as "Sexy Rexy," one thing I can do is catch up on some reading. Another thing I can do is write a blog post. In fact, I could write a blog post about some of the reading I've caught up on lately. And so I have. Here are just a few of the books I've been impressed with lately. I hope that you'll check them out and, if you feel so inspired, maybe leave your own review of a book that you enjoyed.

Book: Abandoned Florida: Sunshine Sentinels
By: Thomas Kenning
Originally Reviewed On: Amazon

The massive military fortifications of centuries past were no doubt intimidating and awe inspiring displays of might in their prime, but as Kenning reveals in words and images, they can become something far more wondrous as they quietly crack and crumble. Eerily beautiful in decay - such is the state of these seemingly impregnable behemoths designed to halt the marching of armies, but not the march of time. Kenning has done a really spectacular job of capturing and conveying that magic as nature conquers and reclaims these man-made marvels of engineering. Whether a seasoned or first-time seeker and explorer of modern ruins, this book will have you packing your gear, planning your route and pining to experience the desolate splendor of these places for yourself, long before you've turned the last page.

Book: Curveball at the Crossroads
By: Michael Lortz
Originally Reviewed On: goodreads

I went in without expectations and found a new twist on the old "deal with the devil at the crossroads" that was much more fun than I expected. As someone interested in vintage Americana, including baseball, blues music and especially America's unique modern mythology, Lortz's book appealed to be on multiple levels. But none of it would have landed for me without such clear, clever and entertaining storytelling - the style reminded me a bit of Christopher Moore. A fast read that relies on good solid storytelling; a modern fable that swings for the fences and delivers. Go read it already.

Book: Eerie Appalachia: Smiling Man Indrid Cold, The Jersey Devil, the Legend of Mothman and More
By: Mark Muncy & Kari Schultz
Originally Reviewed On: goodreads

I just finished reading Eerie Appalachia and the first (literary) foray outside of the sunshine state for author/illustrator duo Mark Muncy and Kari Schultz is a fast and fascinating deep dive that picks up where their previous works left off at the Florida state border. Their latest work expands the scope of strange encounters to include not only well-known cryptids like the Moth Man, the Jersey Devil and the Sasquatch, but also hauntings, hyper-local holler legends, UFOs and one of Muncy's own personal experiences on his family's land in Kentucky. As with their previous books, Schultz's illustrations were phenomenal and Muncy was able to construct concise and well written tales from reams of research and often conflicting first-hand accounts. Whether you're new to the world of cryptids and creepy creatures, a paranormal enthusiast or a seasoned legend-tripper with your gear already stowed and ready to go, this book will give you all the reasons you need to start planning your own excursion deep into Eerie Appalachia.

Sir Winston Churchill's Lion 'Rota'

This one is a bit older - one of the first of my published submissions to Atlas Obscura, but it seemed like a logical follow-up post to my recent one on Big Cat Rescue. Have we seen the tail end of such posts and puns? Maybe to the first part of that question and decidedly not to the second... after all, a leopard, as the saying goes, never changes its spots... 

Lions and Tigers and Servals, Oh My A lion given to the prime minister somehow got stuffed and sent to Florida.

What do you get for the victorious allied commander and British prime minister who has everything? A lion, apparently.

Rota, an African lion, was originally won in a bet by a London businessman. Once he outgrew his backyard cage, he was presented to Sir Winston Churchill to commemorate his victories in North Africa during World War II. Tame enough to let curious visitors reach in and touch him, Rota resided for a time in a cage outside of Churchill’s property, before finally being relocated to the London Zoo.

That wasn’t Rota’s last stop, however. It’s not exactly clear how the stuffed lion made his way to Florida, but travel over the ocean he did. He was first exhibited at the Lion Hotel in Saint Augustine, but too many visitors pulling at his fur led the owners to donate him to the avid collector, Otto C. Lightner.

Housed in what was originally the Alcazar Hotel built by Henry Morrison Flagler in 1888, the Lightner Museum showcases its original patron’s vast collection of pretty much anything and everything. It includes the second largest assemblage of American-made crystal in the world, a pipe organ-themed desk (which may have been used by Napoleon’s brother), Tiffany stained glass, Victorian-era scientific equipment, an Egyptian mummy, early automated music machines, and Rota, the lion who once belonged to Churchill.

Today Rota stands behind glass with his monstrous maw preserved in a permanent roar—or yawn, perhaps.

Tampa Bay Scavenger Storyline

At various times in my life, I've been a video gamer. One particular MMORG, Everquest, held my fascination for years. I recalled how every once in a while, a player or team of players, or guild, would unlock some new content, or there would be some special event, triggering a game-wide message. I decided to apply this to Tampa Bay Scavenger - whenever a player unlocked one of the four puzzle pieces and solved the final riddle, I posted a game update to the Facebook group (https://www.facebook.com/groups/2812736358967184). Below are those updates, which essentially create a separate, interactive storyline.

Following the unlocking of the first puzzle piece by a player, this update was issued on October 14, 2021.

----------GAME UPDATE----------
All players and adventurers suddenly pause simultaneously, sensing a shift in the air around them. One by one they realize that it's the stillness, the silence, that has grabbed their attention. Everything has gone eerily quiet except for just one sound, which echoes out from the heart of the labyrinth. It is the unmistakable sound of metal against metal. It is the sound of a key opening a lock, setting something new in motion as hidden gears rumble to life and begin to turn...

...Somewhere, someone has unlocked the first puzzle piece...


Following the unlocking of the second puzzle piece by a player, this update was issued on November 18, 2021.

---------GAME UPDATE----------
The blind seer sits at the small, circular wooden table in the center of her cabin – close enough to the docks that she can sometimes hear snippets of conversation and quarrels, but far enough removed that no one stumbles upon her abode without seeking it. Moonlight pours in through the sheer curtains by the window and pools on the uneven tiles of the floor. She knows that the moon is full not by anything her eyes tell her but rather by the cycles within and around her, as she prepares for her nightly ritual.
From the creased and worn deck she draws three cards, running her weathered fingers over each one as she turns it over.

The first is the Ace of Wands, indicating that a fateful step has been taken, setting in motion a chain of events that will lead one to their desired outcome.

The second card she reads by touch is the Seven of Pentacles. The road ahead will be long and arduous, requiring patience and dedication.

The final card takes her just a moment to recognize as the Wheel of Fortune. It’s been some time since it last turned up in one of her nightly readings. She knows that it heralds change, but for good or ill she cannot say.

“Tell me witch, what does this bode?” The voice belongs to a figure who has until now been concealed in the shadows behind her. She cannot see him and does not know if he is a corporeal being, a shade or just some figment conjured from her own fragmented memory. She long ago ceased making any such distinction, as she has discourse with all of them equally. In this instance, however, her reply is simply a broad grin, for she understands precisely what the cards have revealed…

…Somewhere, someone has unlocked the second puzzle piece…


Following the unlocking of the third puzzle piece by a player, this update was issued on December 27, 2021.

---------GAME UPDATE----------
The water is calm and quiet, as the two men stand fishing side by side from the deck of their small vessel. They've been doing all they can of late to increase their catch as the nets have been nearly empty every night these last many. There's been talk and rumors that the waters have been cursed, that those adventurers who have of late descended upon the bay area seeking clues and treasure have unwittingly unleased something darker upon it.

The two fishermen are not immune to such superstition - each of them have been making extra offerings to their chosen deity in hopes of restoring harmony and good fortune. As they go quietly about their business, a thick fog rolls in and engulfs their boat. They turn towards each other in confusion as they realize that the fog is moving against the wind, towards the shore.

Before they can say anything, they notice a shape rising from the depths off the starboard side. They rub their eyes in astonishment, for what they see is clearly impossible. A rotted and decaying ship, rising from the depths without creating a sound or disturbing the surface of the water. Seaweed hangs and billows form the masts in lieu of sails, and as it passes alongside their craft, they feel chilled to the bone.

The crew is composed of skeletal pirates, reanimated and called up from their slumber at the bottom of the sea no doubt by that which is happening on land. At the helm, Gaspar the Undying points his rusted saber towards the port and urges his crew to make haste, lest they be beaten to their prize. The pirate captain's empty eye sockets glow red as if illuminated by embers and he lets loose a cackle that is the sound of nightmares as he speeds past the fisherman.

The fishermen wait for the ghost ship to pass, put away their gear and decide to call it a night. Neither one has any desire to speak of what they just witnessed or to be out on the water at night again anytime soon. The older of the two sighs, realizing that there will be no peace or normalcy until the hunt has run its course, and that for those competing to complete it, the dangers will only increase the closer they get to their goal. A goal, he muses, rubbing his grey beard between his fingers, that at least one seeker has just drawn closer to...

...Somewhere, someone has unlocked the third puzzle piece...

Following the unlocking of the fourth and final puzzle piece by a player, this update was issued on April 11, 2022.

---------GAME UPDATE----------
The wind that began as a mild breeze picks up and becomes a howl, bending and uprooting trees. Like a droplet of black ink, a roiling storm cloud spreads across the sky. It blots out the sun, turning afternoon into the pitch black of midnight, split by bolts of lightning so bright that they leave an afterimage in the eyes of those watching. The waters along the bay become turbulent, pounding the shores and docks, surging against stone walls. Waterspouts dance over the sea in the darkness. All man-made structures, even the ground itself, seems to tremble from the force of the tempest.

And then nothing. As quickly as it formed, the storm dissipates and when the late day sun breaks free from the clouds that confined it, it shines all the more brightly on one adventurer. Everyone throughout the land reaches the same conclusion...

...Somewhere, someone has unlocked the fourth and final puzzle piece...


Following the deciphering of the final secret message (once the four puzzle pieces were assembled) by a player, this update was issued on July 20, 2022.

---------GAME UPDATE----------
All enemies defeated, all clues solved, ZooTech stands before the ancient doorway that leads to the Keeper of Secrets, and of course, whatever treasure he has been guarding. She takes a deep breath and enters, winding through a maze of passageways, sometimes having to retrace her steps. At last she sees the flicker of torchlight up ahead. The passageway opens up into a circular chamber. At the far side sits a figure wearing a hooded cloak. Between them, in the center of the room are a series of letters and in the very center of the room, a massive wooden chest, bound shut with metal chains and a lock.

“Welcome,” the figure says. He rises slowly, as if he’s been seated there waiting to be found since the very dawn of time. “You have proven yourself courageous and curios in solving my riddles. Now there is but one final challenge.” He gestures to the letters throughout the room.

ZooTech notices that they seem to shimmer as she approaches. She studies each carefully, and then it comes to her – the final phrase. She whispers it to the figure and though she cannot discern his face, she has the distinct impression that he is smiling. He takes a key that hangs around his neck and places it in her hands. “Thank you for freeing me,” he says and then begins to dematerialize before her eyes, until all that is left is a dark swirling vortex of dust and the key in her hands.

Cautiously she approaches the chest and detecting no traps, places the keys into the lock. It springs open and the chains loosen and fall away. She lifts the lid and inside she finds… nothing! Wait, that can’t be right, can it? She looks again and feels around in the dark wood. This time she feels something in the corner and pulls away a false bottom, which reveals a ladder descending into the darkness below.
Determined not to have come this far without claiming the treasure, she climbs down into the unknown. At the bottom she finds herself in another circular room, but this one is lined with portals – dozens of doorways glowing blue, through each of which she can see a different path. Though this particular quest has ended for her, the adventure continues without end…

…And isn’t that really the best treasure of all?

Congratulation to ZooTech on being the first to solve all the riddles and the final phrase.

Now, who will be next?

Secret Tampa Bay Bonus Content: Lions and Tigers and Servals, Oh My!

 

Originally I planned to include this chapter about Big Cat Rescue. Jen and I had gone on a tour there previously - it's located in Citrus Park just about ten minutes from where we live. Unfortunately, in response to both the COVID-19 global pandemic and, as I was told by staff there, to a certain Netflix show, the organization decided to close its doors for tours out of concern for both animals and humans. Consequently this was one of the chapters I opted to trim from Secret Tampa Bay, as I felt it made more sense to focus more on things and places that people can see for themselves. Perhaps one day it will reopen to the public. Until then, you can visit the cats virtually and via my description here.

Lions and Tigers and Servals, Oh My!

Where can you find Tampa’s most unique and exclusive retirement community?

Founded in November of 1992 just miles from Downtown Tampa, Big Cat Rescue is one of the world’s largest accredited sanctuaries for exotic cats—including lions, tigers, leopards, lynx, servals, bobcats, cougars, ocelots, and caracals—who live out the rest of their nine lives peacefully on 67 sunny acres in the Citrus Park neighborhood.

A nonprofit 501(c)3 charity, Big Cat Rescue is accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries and includes full-time homes for big cats as well as rehab and medical facilities, a rotational “vacation” area, and a “kitten cabana” for socializing and supporting smaller cats.

Residents at Big Cat Rescue come from a wide variety of backgrounds and circumstances, some abandoned or abused by owners, others retired from performing acts or rescued from being made into fur coats. Still others, whose names have been changed, are there as part of what might be called “the feline witness protection program,” having been seized during raids or drug busts and now awaiting trial … as evidence.

Some of Big Cat Rescue’s more famous inhabitants include Zabu the white tiger, Kali the tiger, Cameron the lion, and of course Pharaoh and Tonga—the only two white servals known in existence anywhere on earth.

In addition to providing a home and care for its animals, Big Cat Rescue is involved in championing legislation to end the ownership and trade of exotic felines in the private sector. The bill, known as the Big Cat Public Safety Act (H.R. 3546) is currently in the US House of Representatives.

Other local animal encounters include the Suncoast Primate Sanctuary in Palm Harbor, Golden Spirit Alpaca Ranch in Odessa, Gypsy Gold Farm for horses in Ocala, and ZooTampa at Lowry Park.

Paws and Appreciate What: Big Cat Rescue Where: 12802 Easy St., Tampa Cost: In person tours are not currently being offered.   Pro Tip: There are numerous ways to get involved and support Big Cat Rescue’s mission, from donations to email campaigns to volunteer and internship positions. Visit its website for more information.

Valhalla Can Wait

“Hey…. Pssst… Hey, are you awake?...”

It’s the voice of my friend Steve, cutting through the pre-dawn darkness. As kids, during any sleepover, I was usually the one, lying on the red fold-out seat, who could talk until the first shades of deep purple spread like a bruise across the sky, whereas Steve would be asleep and snoring like clockwork within a half hour lying down. Death, it seems, has reversed our roles and it is now my friend who possesses the sort of boundless late-night energy that he did not have in life.

“Hey… are you there?... Wake up.”

I mumble something along the lines of, “do you know what time it is?” but consciousness is seeping in, under my eyelids. Somewhere in the back of my brain an engine sputters a few times and finally kicks on to those two words.

Wake up.

Mmmuumph, hmm, what? I must have dozed off, my index finger still between the pages of a book I was reading. At some point during the night my wife must have turned off the lights and a small warm, furry creature, Tinker Bell, has relocated from being in the crook of my armpit to laying on her back with my left ankle as her pillow.

Some thirty years on from my childhood, it’s a lot harder to keep my eyes open. Sleep is no longer the enemy it was back then. It’s taken the form of a Valkyrie, ready to lift me gently from my body and carry me off to some version of paradise. The temptation to drift back off is so strong, all the more reason I have to ball my hands into fists, dig my fingernails into my palms and summon all my resolve. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, rise and stumble down the hall to my office, managing to bang my shins only a couple times before sitting back down in front of the computer, to stare at a blank page.

I consider anew just how easy it is to go back to sleep. Even as I start typing and working on an upcoming presentation, a big one, I know in some ways though I’m already sleep-walking again. That story of how grief became a catalyst and how I came to reawaken to the wonder of the world around me, after nearly three years has been refined and told so often that I could recite it in my sleep. Which means that I am probably doing just that - the story of waking up has itself become a sort of lullaby mantra, luring me back into a different version of the same trance I fought so hard to break free from.

I’ve made a start though. A good start. I’ve put three books on the shelf and I’m into a fourth. Wrote a ghost tour and working on others. But it’s neither the time nor the place to plant a flag, it’s just the first basecamp and the summit is a long way off in the distance. A start, even the very best of starts, is still just a start. Time now to stop starting and start in on the second act. The climb gets steeper from here, the oxygen gets thinner and there are fewer footsteps to follow.

The Valkyrie isn’t going anywhere. Over my shoulder, I can sense her disapproval of my efforts – she thinks I should just call it a night and be satisfied with what I’ve accomplished. And with what's left unfinished. She doesn't say any this, of course, she doesn't have to - she’s the strong, silent type. Though she is in virtually every way the inverse of my friend Steve, she is no less a member of my party; with me now for the duration of the journey.

Time to delve deeper, to push myself harder, to stay awake and stay focused. There are strange lands yet to traverse and wonders waiting to be revealed before I’m ready to cash in whatever cred I’ve earned as a seeker.

Valhalla, at least for now, is just going to have to wait.