Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire FLORIDA history - when ALL game was 'fair'

Mike, my Great uncle Dewey Allen was the mayor of Yankeetown................

My family on my mothers side started in South coastal Georgia in the early 1780’s and then moved south to the south Florida area after the first Seminole Indian war. They fished and cattle ranched along the edge of the Everglades early on and then when Flagler drove his railroad down to them they added tomato farming around Homestead. I really cannot imagine how tough it had to be to live along the edge of the Everglades long before it was drained , mosquito control , and A/C ! I met my Great Uncle Dub when he was in his eighties in about 1976. He’d been a cowboy on the north side of the Everglades around Arcadia Florida all his life. His legs had big pock marks where he’d been bitten by rattlesnakes repeatedly over the years. I was just old enough to have discovered that old people would tell stories and I didn’t believe him about being bitten until he pulled his pants leg up and showed me the scars. I remember him telling me the first time he was bitten he nearly died. After the first time he said he’d take some aspirin and go get in a dark room because he was going to wish he’d die !

Great thread! I remember my great granny telling me how turtle eggs were the absolute best for making a cake and how she wished I could have had one made with turtle eggs. My great grandfather would take the Sunday school children down to the beach and collect eggs and a turtle every now and then. Back then they would keep the tarpon they caught and considered the snook 'soap fish"

And today the Snook are at the top of the table fare list and no one would consider eating a Tarpon.

Before this thread drifts off into the abyss of the CF archives I'm going to add a few more random photos that I have in my collection from some research I did some time back on the area...

Now if some one can tell me they tipped a few at either of these local Ozello bars I'll be surprised..

I believe that "Bar" above would now be named "Peck's" and it's a Seafood restaurant . Back when I was a young boy living in the "Park" at the end of the road, it was a local dive bar/tackle shop where I could buy sinkers, hooks and the occasional piece of candy.

One day, my father took me in tow there to purchase some new shear pins for the outboard, as we had broken our last one. There was but one customer, far down the bar, setting upon his vinyl and chrome barstool, nursing his beer. I happened to look under the barstool nearest me, and there was a crumpled bill under it. I leaned over, grabbed it and stuffed it in my shorts pocket. Once back at camp, I discovered my prize was in fact a Ten dollar bill! Back in the 60's, that was big money for a young boy, and I had a good supply of hooks, sinkers, and candy for quite a few months!

Yes, the Pirates Cove was a rundown mess for quite awhile. Against my Mother's admonishment, we boys would sneak over there and scrounge around the ruins, just checking things out. We never took anything from there, not that there was much left anyway.

Caught my very first Sea Trout off the little point at the end of the road there in that park. In fact, I spread my Father's ashes there after his passing at that very spot too.

I recall we used to dip Shrimp at night under the culvert that goes under the road. Dad would hang a gas lantern over the one end and there's a little ledge about a foot or so wide under there. He and others, would see the Shrimp being pushed through by the Tide and dip them with a net and put them in a garbage can with ice in it.

Years later as we could afford it, we purchased a Sears Jon boat, a model particular to the South. Fourteen feet long, with maybe 36" width and only about 8" freeboard......not very deep at all. Once had a very live and very pissed off Shark join me in that boat, and the mayhem that ensued still remains a vibrant memory...but that is a story for another time.

All us kids ever had to fish with were Cane poles, never had the money for fancy Rod&Reels until many years later. We started Shrimping at night with the boat. Dad would stand in the front with a car headlight taped to a helmet and connected to a car battery we had setting on the floor of the boat. Once we were in the pass leading to the Grass flats, we would make pass after pass and Dad would point which way he wanted me to turn the boat so we could make another swing through. We would come in about 2:00 or 3:00 am and ice down the Shrimp, get some sleep and then Mom would make breakfast while we cleaned Shrimp. We would take a couple Shrimp and go fishing out in the boat on the flats. We used a skinny cane pole as a bait rod. We would use small pieces of Shrimp on an even smaller hook to catch Pinfish, and then use them on larger Cane poles with a big cork attached at the proper depth to catch Trout and such.

Once, while on the flats, we had a Greater Hammerhead come ghosting across under our boat. It's head was at the bow of the boat and the tail was still past the stern.....biggest Shark I've EVER seen!

Once we were finished fishing, we'd stop at an Oyster Bar on the way in and chip off a few dozen Oysters with an old Brick Masons hammer, and bring them back in an old, wet, burlap bag so that we could eat them with dinner. The only way my mom would eat them was roasted on a wire rack we'd found, over a fire, until they popped open.

I still have that old hammer in fact......

We never knew we were poor, we just lived differently than other folks.....but as a young boy, it was an adventure!

I recall a family that lived on a houseboat of sorts. We would see them only occasionally. They had several young children as I recall, and the boat had all kinds of things lashed down on the outside that they might need, such as washtubs, net's, and assorted other things.....I've wondered what ever happened to them every so often over the years.

If you care to make the drive to Peck's Old Port Cove (as it's called today), they have a pretty decent menu and the atmosphere is fantastic. You can drive over the "Culvert" where we Shrimped all those many years ago, and at the end of the road, you will still find that "Park" and can still see the remnants of where the old Hotel once stood. Looking at the launch, on the left you'll see the "Point" where my Father's remains were spread...be sure to say a hello to "Sparky" (his nickname) if you go...…


Thank you for letting me share my story.....


Frog----OUT!

Nope.

Pecks is and always was Pecks, Happy Helens was another place and Happy Helen lived here on the island too.

Pirates Cove bar and restaurant was many things to many folks but it was the live music and nightlife that made it memorable for most.
It had to be a quite interesting location to have grown up living out there on the point as a young boy, not much has changed other than they swept up and hauled away all that remained of the buildings now, just a couple picnic tables sitting under the trees is all that is still there.

The fishing, shrimping and gathering of Oysters are still common practice in the area, seldom is there not someone fishing those culverts, Red fish and Trout abound.....

It's said that Ozello is one of the last remaining pieces of "Old Florida" still left intact.



I know the exact spot you mention very well, I go there a few times a week, I'll make it a point to hello to your father.....

Good read, thanks for sharing

Fascinating thread.

Thanks to all that have posted.

I have thoroughly enjoyed reading this entire thread. Thanks to everyone who has contributed.

I see in the plea for the children, whomever objected from the kids working in the canneries didn't object from the children going back and working in the strawberry field.

Damn good thread!

Very interesting stuff!

If you take a look at the satellite image on Google Maps of the Crystal River area, just SW of the airport you will see Ozello Trail. Proceed westbound on that biker's dream until you come to the first cluster of civilization on the west side of a meandering channel and you'll see where my friend J.C. was born. On a house boat.

I don't recall the specifics about family size but the houseboat was around 30' in length. He grew up a bit and started going to school, via a bus. Apparently the island school was a thing of the past. He did have to cross the channel by boat to get to the bus stop on the east side so they had a little rowing skiff for that purpose. If it had been raining they often had to get out of the bus, just the boys mind you, and push the bus thru some of the mud holes along the way. Such was life out on the Trail. In 1950 the region was visited by Hurricane Easy which visited most of its damage a little further up the coast, but it was a Cat 3 storm and as a result left some damage in the area. They wound up with something around 15 family members living on the houseboat for a spell, and the ol' man decided they had seen enough. They moved down to Marathon in the Florida Keys, leaving the extended family to rebuild and carry on.

And carry on they did. As fate would have it JC came home and I went to visit. He showed me where all of the above transpired and at least one family business with the Wells name above the front door. So, with the history out of the way, I'll relate a few things about his adventures in the Keys.

He continued school of course and always wore shorts. Flip flops, tee shirt? No, barefoot and bare chested. He learned to dive on his own and found a vast pool of amusement in cruising under the 7 Mile Bridge, collecting fishing lines from the Yankees on the bridge on opposite sides and tying or tangling the lines before giving them a good yank. Another pastime was chasing sharks in the flats with a buddy, armed with a gaff and a club. They actually won those battles a few times without shedding their own blood.

Moving forward a bit, I met JC in the mid to late '80s. A couple of ambitious friends of mine had purchased Faro Blanco Resort just east of the 7 Mile Smile (aka Bridge) and JC kept his charter boat there. First impressions? He was enormous, and had a terrific since of humor. First trip with him, we were going out to snare some cobia and I asked how long we'd be out. He replied "Til you get tired." I thought "Hey, I'm no stranger to fishing and I don't get tired.", but stifled the comment and just said, "OK". We got to one of his many fishing holes, he tossed the anchor and handed me a heavy spinning rig with 50# mono. I thought "WTF?" He told me the drag was set tight and not to worry about it. Put a pinfish on the hook and tossed it over the side. Might have taken at least 2 minutes before I was hooked up and, well, I was expecting, you know, maybe 20# fish. First hookup was a 40 pounder and boys, it was Hemorrhoid City!

But I won in the end and in the process found and answer to another puzzle. He had no gaff on the boat, but instead had a huge dip net. 5' deep pocket, 4' diameter hoop...he leaned over the side and scooped that thing up and plopped it in the cooler in a blink. And the show went on.....about an hour and a half later I moaned to JC, "I'm tired." He laffed, and my buddy said "Me too.", so we went home. 19 fish in the cooler and not a single one was less than 35 pounds. One was a few pounds over 50. Wow...

And so it went when fishing with him. Didn't matter what you were chasing, you caught them. He was so good at the game that other captains would try to follow him now and then to find out where his fishing holes were. When he saw one approaching we'd up anchor and move along, have a nice polite chat with them when they came near and resume fishing when they left. A few times they even employed planes to try and pin down his secrets. Planes couldn't sneak up on him either.

I mentioned earlier his size and sense of humor if you recall. Picture below has him on the left, me in the middle and another wacko buddy on the right. I'm 6'2" and about 225# in that picture. JC is pushing 50 years of age pretty hard. The mutton snapper head he holds was very near world record size but got trimmed by a shark beside the boat. If you think a 20 something pound mutton can't bend your knees on 50# spin tackle, think again. What you see before us is a very small portion of what we hauled in that day.


One more story and I'm wrap this up. JC had some clients out one day tarpon fishing by the 7 Mile Smile and when it came time to leave his anchor had snagged something. He used the boat to drag it into the shallows, hopped over and found an old barge anchor used by the crews employed by Henry Flagler to join all the Keys by rail back in the late '20s and '30s. Nobody told JC he couldn't, so he picked it up and put it in his boat. They returned to Faro Blanco and he put in on the dock. An ancient historical relic, about 6' in length with hooks spread about 5' and a 5' cross bar. The crossbar was about 3" in diameter, the main shank of the anchor about 5-6". Nobody, me included, could budge that thing after he put it there. My guess on weight is ballpark 500#. Someone told me he didn't even fart when he put it there.

Around year 2000 he was diagnosed with cancer and passed a few years later. He had come home to Ozello and gave me and my wife a tour, replete with many humorous tales. We visited him quite a few times and as a result settled near there after I retired. He went home and his remains are out there where he was born. He was, like many of the old timers in the region, a remarkable man and a joy to be around. It was a privilege to know him.

A different breed of people than now.
Somewhere is my families history, not as extensive, and illinois, iowa, missouri, nebraska folk. Stories of smallpox, fever; and railroad speculators lieing to buy land. A letter telling a mother of her son being cared for in another town by strangers. The letter so they would know what happened because they did not expect him to live.

Spent a lot of time up in Citrus County as a lad and on into my late 20's, especially around Crystal River. As someone already mentioned, it is Old Florida. Sadly, hasn't been on my radar since my Dad was in the hospital several years ago while he was still living outside Crystal River.

Great thread, muffin. And great pics, JeffA.

G.G.G.Granddad - buried Crystal River

G.G.Granddad - buried Crystal River

G.Granddad - buried Lecanto - 7 mi east of Crystal river

Grandmother/Father - Lecanto


Dad's still alive and well..... if they cover me up with Citrus County sand I'll be generation No. 6.....................

Wow, your family really has some history here...

Thanks guys. A great read. I knew yours would be good DD. Thanks for that too. Be Well, Rustyzipper.

Amazing thread, If I could live my life over. I spent a few years in the 60s there but my wife could't take the heat.

Mike