Embrace yourself, ‘Goula

The marker indicates the spot were two fishermen were allegedly abducted by aliens. In the background is the “new” bridge, which replaced the old drawbridge from 1973.

The new Netflix documentary series “Files of the Unexplained” opens with a well-researched episode about my hometown Pascagoula, Mississippi. Situated on the Singing River, Pascagoula has been associated with unexplained and bizarre happenings long before aliens abducted two fishermen on the river. And Pascagoula was different long before Austin, Texas, decided to keep itself weird or Florida celebrated its outlandish Florida Man. After all, what other town arose from a place where two Native American lovers and their kinsmen walked to watery graves singing? And then there’s the case of the phantom barber who sneaked into the bedrooms of young girls in the dead of night and cut off their lovely locks. And a scary right-wing John Birch Society member who recruited members at the drug store soda fountain.

The Netflix documentary interviews people who have embraced Pascagoula for what it is – a shipyard town on a river where good people work hard to make a living for their families. And a town where strange stuff happens. Five decades after the alien event, Pascagoula embraced the encounter with a celebration and officially marked the spot of the abduction. It’s not quite a “historical” marker, but the sign near the bridge documents the event and offers peace to the two men allegedly abducted at that site. Strange things happen, especially at night on a river that sings. Weird is okay.

Close up of the sign and its co-sponsors which include the historical society!

When I lived there in the 1950s and 1960s, many of us were trying to be something we weren’t. We looked at neighboring towns and envied their rich history, artist colonies, fancy homes, mossy oak-lined boulevards, and lovely stretches of manmade beaches. “Why not us?” we wondered. In high school, we grimaced when rival teams called us “Goula” or mispronounced the town’s name – PasPagoula, as if they had a lisp. We dismissed our origins and eccentric characters that made Pascagoula a unique place to call home.

Now Pascagoula has embraced itself with honesty. Yes, Pascagoula is a shipyard town and those shipyard workers built WWII ships and nuclear submarines. The towering cranes may mar the view, but they produce defense equipment for a nation and provide more jobs than any other employer in the state. Yes, the water is slick and brown, but that’s just the Pascagoula water. It’s safe to drink and makes the best gumbo around.

And, sure, the town smells when the wind blows from the northeast. That’s the smell of dead fish processing from the Omega Protein Plant in Moss Point making vitamin supplements. And, yes, the town smells when the wind doesn’t blow. That the “aroma” of marsh mud, brackish water, and bayous, band it’s a great place to fish. Besides, that’s just the way tide flows — or doesn’t. And to me, it smells like home.

From the Netflix episode I learned Calvin Parker, the eighteen-year old who was abducted with Charles Hickson, died of kidney cancer in August 2023, (another update for my book A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South: Bay St. Louis to Apalachicola). Parker wrote two books about the alien encounter, and one ebook version reached bestseller status. Interviews with both Calvin and his wife are featured in the documentary. The episode also includes interviews with others who witnessed weird sights on October 11, 1973, the night of the alien abduction. In addition, it includes part of an interview with Parker and Hickson recorded by law enforcement officers on the night of the incident.

Kudos to the city leaders who welcomed Netflix filmmakers and posted reminders to watch the show on the city’s Facebook page. And a big shout-out to the girls’ high school softball team now wearing jerseys emblazoned with ‘GOULA across the front. Those five letters fit a lot better than the ten letters that used to run diagonally across the jersey’s front.

Go ‘Goula!

Call us who we are! Forget Pascagoula — or “Lady Panthers.” PHS softball is Goula!

Three states, four cities, ten parades in four days

I threw myself full-force into a Mardi Gras marathon — Saturday, Sunday, Monday (Lundi Gras) and Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras). Along with two of my sons and three teenage grandkids, I experienced Mardi Gras from Gulfport to Pensacola Beach nonstop for the best Mardi Gras I’ve ever celebrated. That’s saying a lot because I’ve lived and reveled in New Orleans! The real birthplace of Mardi Gras, we Southerners know, is Mobile, Alabama, and that’s where we spent most of our time.

I love parades even more than I love fireworks displays.  I especially like parades with high-stepping marching bands and sequined majorettes. Line up some horses and some motorcycles in between masterfully designed floats and I’m in my heyday. We saw so many parades, now whenever I hear sirens, I start looking for floats!

We started with Saturday afternoon’s Krewe of Gemini parade in Gulfport, Mississippi – a low-key celebration compared to the end of our marathon. For the family-style parade in old downtown, we stood near Fishbone Alley (from the movie Christmas in Mississippi). The prelude featured the short but lively Chanty Gras mini parade – bejeweled dogs, costumed owners and a small jazz combo marching by, then winding down Fishbone Alley guided by a reveler hoisting a decorated umbrella. And then the Krewe of Gemini rolled with about 40 units and a remarkable antique police car that stole my heart. (Mississippians love antique cars, hence the success of Cruisin’ on the Coast, one of the most popular classic car shows in the nation).

Note the small poodle in the viewer’s lap behind the barricade. The Gulfport parade is for man and beast alike!

A short drive east on Scenic Highway 90, we reached downtown Biloxi where we people-watched a few hours awaiting the night parade of the Krewe of Neptune. Heralded by motorcycles, sirens and the Clydesdale horses, the illuminated floats featured nautical and underwater themes with gorgeous neon colors brilliant against the night sky. The high school marching bands, many from the Mississippi Delta (the birthplace of the Blues), reminded me why I love marching bands from the Deep South – they are a prancing personification of joy, rhythm, and soul. The bands are so lively and entertaining, the crowds cheer the musicians – from percussion to brass! And the bands are sandwiched between dancers and flag corps with just as much rhythm and flair. Biloxi also has several “marching clubs,” costumed marchers like the Ole Biloxi Walking Club, who walk in the procession and often hand flowers or beads to spectators, making parade goers feel intimately part of the parade. The Krewe of Neptune parade was halted midway for about 45 minutes so the crowd thinned, which only meant more beads for us! (We later learned a train had sideswiped four empty cars parked too close to the tracks, stopping the parade.)

The first float, naturally, in Biloxi’s Krewe of Neptune night parade is Neptune, King of the Sea.

This marching club portrayed iridescent jellyfish and sea anemone in the Krewe of Neptune parade in Biloxi.

Fortunately, my home in Florida allows us to reach parades with a two-hour drive and no need for hotels. After our late night return from Mississippi we needed a little rest. On Sunday we slept late but awoke in time to grab a good place to view the Pensacola Beach Krewe of Wrecks parade. As always, the crowds were rowdy and the throws plentiful. We stood across Via de Luna (the main beach road) from a partying Mardi Gras krewe who appeared to have rented a beach house on the route to enhance their partying. Their antics livened up our wait time for the parade. There are no marching bands in the Krewe of Wrecks parade, with the exception of drums and bagpipes from McGuire’s Pipe Band. Music, provided from sound systems on the floats, was almost drowned out by the volume of the crowd and the music of the partying krewe across the way.

Lundi Gras, the Monday before Mardi Gras, we drove to Mobile for two, back-to-back night parades: The Infant Mystics and the Order of Doves. The “masked” reveler is tradition in Mobile so most participants don masks. Krewe royalty attired in velvet and sequined capes and mounted on horseback usher in the magnificently lighted floats. Jazz combos march between the floats in the Infant Mystics parade, playing nonstop. Most floats feature a giant sculpted head or torso depicting the parade’s theme. For the Infant Mystics’ theme of “Mythical, Magical, Mystical,” giant figures like Merlin and Marie Laveau towered over the bow of the float. Lively marching bands highlighted the Order of the Doves parade—those Alabama girls can dance!

Miraculously rejuvenated by Tuesday, Mardi Gras Day, we arrived at 10 a.m. in Mobile for the first parade of the day, the Krewe of Athena, an all-female krewe around since 1954. Never leaving our coveted spot in front of the parking garage on Royal Street (appropriately named) we viewed three more parades: Knights of Revelry (my favorite themed parade), the Comic Cowboys (wild and crazy political humor), and MAMGA Mammoth (the historic Black carnival association). Led in by a giant jester atop a float (breaking preserved balloon-like cow bladders) the Knights of Revelry throw lots of blue and silver beads and produce a classy parade, all floats adhering to the theme of “Nights” with clever plays on words – like a Knight at the Opera, Friday Knight Lights, and Knight of the Living Dead. Some of Tuesday’s parades boasted as many as 45 units including floats and bands. MAMGA ran more than an hour late, but it was worth the wait because, as described, the parade is mammoth. The floats highlighted the history of the organization, founded in 1938, along with Black figures in history and the new Africatown museum. Marching units included Black cowboys and the famous Alabama State University marching band. It was a great way to end Mardi Gras for us. We were too exhausted to pack up and change locations for the final parade. Maybe next year.

Top: The Knights of the Holy Grail; below: Saturday “Knight” Live.

Though I love the parades, for some, Mardi Gras is all about the throws – not just beads, but the throws. We caught pounds of beads but also caught – footballs, a hula hoop, Moon Pies in three flavors and two sizes, a wooden tomahawk, silk flowers, doubloons, boxes of oatmeal cookies, Ramen soup in two flavors, glow sticks, candy bars, a book of religious poetry, paper masks, a jigsaw puzzle, Star Wars collectible bobble heads, frisbees for dogs and humans, plastic cups, noise makers, two backpacks, a 14-inch plastic toothbrush, four plush toys, lip gloss, and a giant container of pork rinds!

My favorite beads are the first I caught in Mobile – a bundle packaged by the special needs students at Augusta Evans Elementary School. Mobile’s Augusta Jane Evans was the first female novelist to earn more than $100,000 and was herself a fragile child. The second writer reference appeared on a Comic Cowboys float!

 

 

After our senses being bombarded by so many smells, sounds, and images over the four-day adventure, it’s difficult to end without mentioning a few more personal favorites. . .

Best Mardi Gras People Watching — Fat Tuesday, Mobile, no description needed.

Best Vendors, ABOVE: Gulfport. Midway through the parade he swapped souvenirs for ice cream for a thirsty crowd. BELOW: Girl Scouts selling their cookies between parades in Mobile.

Saving a Historic Concrete Hut

Tolstoy Park, Fairhope, Alabama. Photo by Diane Skelton ©2016

How in the world could they move that concrete mass in one piece? I wondered when I heard the story televised on the evening news. The mass is a hand-built, round concrete hut in Fairhope, Alabama, erected over a hundred years ago and the inspiration for Sonny Brewer’s book The Poet of Tolstoy Park.  The hut, which once stood on ten acres in the wilderness, is now surrounded by businesses and in danger of demolition.

As I described in my book A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South, “The site is easy to miss because it’s hidden in plain sight, sitting partially submerged under a giant oak in a parking lot.” But it’s well worth seeking out for lovers of the written word or people who like weird places. It’s listed on both Atlas Obscura and on the National Register of Historic Places. Henry Stuart built the structure in 1926 after moving from Idaho to Fairhope to die following a diagnosis of tuberculosis. Eccentric, educated, quirky and a curious fellow, Stuart was also dubbed a hermit and poet. He named his sanctuary Tolstoy Park after the Russian author and lived in the hut until 1944 before leaving the area. (Either he was misdiagnosed, or Fairhope is really a healthy place to live!)

Inside Henry Stuart’s hut. The stove is vented through the wall. The domed roof has two vents that look like skylights. Photo by Diane Skelton ©2016

Though the The Poet of Tolstoy Park is fiction, it reads like fact due to Brewer’s research and imagination. Because of the novel, I understand the construction pains Henry Stuart endured to create his domed concrete home. Plus, I’ve been inside the hut – unblemished from dozens of hurricanes over the years. It’s so permanent and strong, I’m baffled how it could be moved even for the guess-timated $200,000.

Author Sonny Brewer, who leased the hut while working on the book, addressed the Fairhope City Council in November of 2023 and proposed collecting donations to move the structure. He already has one donation from Ken Niemeyer, whose family firm Niemeyer Realty owns the property on which the hut stands. Niemeyer says he can’t predict if future generations of his family will save the hut.

A recreation of how Stuart lived. Photo by Diane Skelton ©2016

The old television shows, Massive Moves, Texas Flip ‘n Move, Move This House, and HGTV’s Haulin’ House show the romantic and dramatic aspects of lifting and moving a house. Big trailers haul the structures down small roads, over tight bridges, and under overhanging trees and power lines, as viewers sit on the edge of their couches.

To me, the distance and terrain are not the challenge of relocating Henry Stuart’s hut. It’s the construction. In Brewer’s fictionalized account, he offers a thoroughly credible description of how Stuart built the house single-handedly. Part of the structure is below ground level — you step down to go in. Stuart mixed and hand poured the concrete blocks which create the perimeter below and above ground. Today, plenty of serious digging would have to occur to unearth the home before trying to move the structure.

One relocation suggestion is moving the hut to the Fairhope Museum of History in downtown. Another idea is replanting the hut at Fairhope’s Flying Creek Nature Preserve, a 72-acre nature park bordered by Fly Creek. The creek is often mentioned in Brewer’s book as he imagines Stuart’s experiences along its sandy banks and describes the overhanging dense foliage like an “ancient jungle.”  In the late 1900s, writer Craig Turner Sheldon named his semi-weekly column in the Fairhope Courier, “Knee Deep in Fly Creek.” For locals, Fly Creek is a landmark. 

The fundraiser to save Henry Stuart’s Tolstoy Park hut is in the planning stages. It was suggested at the city council meeting to send donations to the city, but an official site for accepting donations isn’t on the City of Fairhope website.

The City of Fairhope, founded upon the idea of a single tax colony, has fostered great thinkers and writers since its beginning. Some say Fairhope has more writers per capita than any other city in the country. Hopefully all these great minds will formulate a great idea. For me, moving Henry Stuart’s hut to Flying Creek Nature Preserve would honor Stuart and his hut, pay homage to nature’s influence on writers, and salute the imagination and creativity of Fairhope writers. Dropping the hut right back into nature where it belongs is a really great idea! 

Stuart dated the concrete blocks. Looking up towards the roof vents. Photo by Diane Skelton© 2016

Christmas in Paradise, Buffett-style

Two themed Christmas trees and a table filled with Jimmy Buffett books.

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Jimmy Buffett.  The songwriter-author-singer who personified the culture of the coast would have turned 77 on Christmas Day.

I’ve had a hard time writing about his death, much less revising my bookbook A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South. He’s mentioned in it more than any of the other 100-plus authors. I even created a Jimmy Buffett Trail for readers to follow. I didn’t know Jimmy Buffett, but we were born in the same town, were in the same grade, went to the same college, and shared mutual friends. Some say he’s a distant cousin on my dad’s side. I needed to find a fun way to close the parentheses in my book: Jimmy Buffett (1946-2023) What better way than on his birthday, Christmas?

I started decorating our Christmas tree with a theme when we moved to our little part of paradise in Florida over a decade ago. During Covid, I created a “bling” tree. Last year I honored the late Queen Elizabeth II with a very proper British tree complete with monarchy ornaments and tiny teapots, cups, and saucers. This year my trees (yes, two) honor Jimmy Buffett. Like him, these trees are anything but prim and proper!

Before the Buffett idea, I struggled to find a good 2023 tree theme. I went to the PBS Festival of Trees for inspiration in Pensacola where I marveled at more than 30 themed Christmas trees — Blue Angels, a 12-foot Grinch, one covered with handmade crochet ornaments and tree skirt, even a “Scripture” calligraphy tree. I came away with a half-hearted idea of designing a World Peace tree. Yeah, right. Try finding a dove or a globe ornament.  Noting my frustration when I came home from ornament shopping, my son looked at me as if I was missing the most obvious of all themes. He suggested a Jimmy Buffett tree. My spirits soared. He was right. A fitting tribute and fulfilling quest.

Like Jimmy Buffett says, “Searching is half the fun: life is much more manageable when thought of as a scavenger hunt as opposed to a surprise party.” This Christmas decor search has unleashed my creativity. A writer-artist-friend donated a pre-lit 7’ artificial palm tree, and I’m searching everywhere I go for Jimmy Buffett style ornaments. Family members and friends have offered beachy ornaments. I found a “cheeseburger” for “Cheeseburger in Paradise” ornament at a thrift store. A glass “coconut drink” ornament arrived from my Texas friend. My daughter-in-law donated flamingos and shells. My son ordered a Jimmy Buffett miniature doll complete with guitar and parrot. Mini-JB hangs out on the tree with fish and sailboats (JB loved to fish and sail) and manatees (JB saved the Florida manatee with a license plate idea). Almost every ornament means something, like the coconut for the Coconut Telegraph (his newsletter and album), the hurricane glass for “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere,” the ocean for the song “Mother, Mother Ocean,” a shark (Fins Up!), and the parrot-captain’s wheel tree-topper, a book cover montage. We even found greeting cards with Buffett wisdom “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On.”

I’m still searching – not for a lost shaker of salt – but for four ornaments — a volcano (for the sosng and the Jimmy Buffett ring tone on my phone), a dinosaur (for his cameo appearance in Jurassic World – my granddaughter shared that piece of trivia), for a seaplane (like the one that almost took his life), and of course, a pirate for oh-so-many reasons, especially the book A Pirate Looks at Fifty and the album “A Pirate Looks at Forty.”

This Christmas, I’m following Jimmy Buffett’s last words to “keep the party going” and “have fun.” From now on, I’m having a Jimmy Buffett Christmas tree that transforms into a Mardi Gras tree every single year. Laissez les bons temps roulee! Happy Birthday, JB, and Merry Christmas to all my readers!

One last song: Sing along with these Parrotheads to keep your party going this Christmas!  

You’re Reading a Winner!

The Gumbo Diaries, the blog you’re reading, won the top award for Writing for the Digital Domain in a statewide competition sponsored by the National League of American Pen Women in Florida.  I’m proud, excited, and surprised. I entered the competition six months ago and had almost forgotten I’d entered that category until the announcement and the check arrived!

When I prepared my entries for the competition back in June, I took an introspective writing inventory (yeah, I invented that phrase). Doing so, I realized how far my blog has traveled in the past ten years. What began as a personal diary and a few gumbo recipes has transformed into a literary gumbo.

Here’s the synopsis I wrote to accompany my entries.

 “What began as a ‘quest for the perfect cup of gumbo’ has transformed into a literary gumbo. Currently, part-travelogue and part-literary commentary, the 2022 posts feature reviews of regional books, authors, and interesting stops off-the-beaten path along the Gulf Coast area of Florida, Mississippi, and Alabama. Following the publication of a regional travel book, the author has used the blog to provide updates to the book along with interesting side trips and information. Local foods and recipes remain a popular topic for readers, though the blog’s most popular post is one describing an abandoned mansion destroyed by a hurricane. Readers also enjoy an occasional history tidbit or literary walking tour. Yearly themes have included 300 Gumbo Recipes to celebrate the 300^th birthday of New Orleans and 52 Gumbo Recipes for 52 Southern Authors. The blog’s tone is conversational, lighthearted, and witty. Original graphics and photographs by the author accompany most posts.”

Along with the synopsis, I was required to submit three blog posts from the past year. This is where the introspective inventory came into play – why did I choose these three and why do I like them better than others?

Crybaby Creek: Mesmerizing, frightening fiction

My Second Chance: The one that almost got away

Wandering Around Wakulla (wah-cull’-uh)

Why? Because I thought the judges might like to escape on a short trip by reading my blog. Knowing the reputation of the organization and the contest, I hoped the judges would be professional writers and appreciate research, wit, and speculation by the author. I later discovered from the NLAPW State Letters Chairman, “all the judges are professionals, have masters’ degrees, and are employed by or retired from a college; they either taught English or worked in fields of writing or library science. All are avid readers of worthy literature, some writers themselves.”

I am humbled they chose The Gumbo Diaries as the first-place winner in Florida.

Most of last year’s posts related to my book, A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South. In 2024, I‘ll be updating the book, so the blog may take a detour to propel the new version of the book. Some of my “book reviewers” have encouraged me to include popular recipes from Bay St. Louis to Apalachicola in the new version. When I began researching the idea, I realized Coastal Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida truly personify America’s melting pot, (Warning: Play on words approaching) especially in the kitchen.

The first settlers to visit and affect the indigenous foods were European – French, Spanish, and British. In Mississippi, later influences also came from the Polish, Sicilians, Louisiana Cajuns, Creoles, and Vietnamese. In Alabama, the Vietnamese also added a coastal influence, while in the Florida Panhandle, the Greeks and Germans contributed to the palate. African, Caribbean, and Indigenous flavors mingle in every state, with flavorings and ingredients from enslaved peoples and Native Americans. And every coastal region boasts a smorgasbord of seafood dishes from these cultures.

I might be a digital domain winner, but I’m not a cookbook author, as I learned during my “inventory-introspection.” And why rewrite a book that Gwen McKee, one of my favorite cookbook authors and editors, has already published? I own both Little Gumbo Cookbook and The Little New Orleans Cookbook so know the value of her work. Gwen and fellow Mississippi author Barbara Moseley have collected and published the best recipes, state by state since the early 1980s. Most recipes are from home kitchens and community cookbooks, but a few famous ones from restaurants are thrown in like Mary Mahoney’s Bread Pudding from Biloxi, Mississippi. The Florida cookbook features “Gator Gumbolaya.” The name of the dish alone intrigues me.­­­ Several cookbooks are available on Amazon or at Quail Ridge Press, but Alabama’s is currently out of print, though is available at preowned sites like Abe’s Books.

About a year ago, I blogged about favorite seafood recipes along the Coastal region. Maybe that post will make my recipe-seeking readers happy. The recipes are borrowed but wonderful. I do listen to my readers, though, and might throw in a favorite recipe so unique no one else thought to include it in a literary travel guide – like smoked mullet from The Mullet Festival in Gautier, Mississippi.

 

 

Writers-in-residence, Welcome to Pensacola’s Punkhouse

Pensacola’s Punkhouse, 309 East 6th Avenue, is across the railroad tracks from the Bay Center and around the corner from million-dollar smart homes. PHOTO CREDIT: Diane Skelton

Along with its rich cultural history as America’s first settlement, Pensacola also boasts a slice of subculture history. Two faculty members of the University of West Florida and a classroom of college students were instrumental in preserving Pensacola’s punk subculture with the book A Punkhouse in the Deep South: The Oral History of 309 (University of Florida Press, 2021).

I first encountered Pensacola’s punk history in July 2018 when my son and I took his kids to see the petrified cat at the Pensacola Museum of History (then the T.T. Wentworth). We found the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! petrified cat but were much more intrigued with a new exhibit, “Pensacola: Reflections of a Subculture.” There I learned the punk movement is more than punk rockers and music. It includes art, writing, a do-it-yourself attitude, and activism.

The book has earned a place in my forthcoming edition of A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South: Bay St. Louis to Apalachicola. Residents of Pensacola’s punkhouse, located 309 East 6^th Avenue in Old East Hill near the railroad tracks, made a notable literary contribution in the unique form of the zine. A corruption of the word magazine, zines are publications usually produced by one person. They date as far back as 1930 and progressed from handwritten to carbon copies to mimeograph to ditto and finally, photocopier.  Zines have no editorial boards or set publishing schedules. The format is heavy in text and drawn images, often comics, along with essays, poetry, and opinion pieces. They have evolved into the online publication – the ezine.

The 2018 exhibit on Pensacola’s punkhouse sparked interest in saving the old house and its history. PHOTO CREDIT: Diane Skelton

In the recreated punkhouse room in the museum, copies of zines plastered the walls along with underground press articles, photos, guitars, record jackets and album covers. The room even provided a couch for viewers to sit and immerse themselves in the subculture. We spent hours there, absorbed by the unique drawings, memorabilia, writing, and wall art. While the grandkids enjoyed the musical aspect of the display, I appreciated the written words – and the protest pieces. We sat on the couch and watched a video of the wild and crazy goings-on at the dilapidated house. Despite being built in 1913, that house was rocking.

The exhibit enlightened me on the diverse culture of Pensacola in the 1970-1990s, decades before I moved here. For historians and scholars, the museum elevated the movement and represented the effort for the cultural mainstream to accept and save the artifacts of a subculture and the 309 Punkhouse.

For the book, Scott Satterwhite, a writing instructor at UWF, compiled interviews conducted by the students of Dr. Jamin Wells’ undergraduate oral history class. Satterwhite collaborated with Aaron Cometbus (penname of Aaron Elliott), a zine publisher since 1981. Both Satterwhite and Cometbus lived in Pensacola’s punkhouse. The book includes thirteen question-answer formatted interviews with residents, including Satterwhite and Cometbus. The introduction explains that the residents, through these interviews, relay the 25-year history of “the big house by the tracks.”

The interviews begin with Skott Cowgill, then a young artist and early punk resident of the house. He created the first and longest-running zine in Pensacola, the Smell of Dead Fish, publishing 65 issues filled with record reviews, music, political and ecology articles, and blurry, out-of-focus skating photos. The zine continued until it was no longer economically feasible. The issues had grown in length and “printing” costs had increased. Smell of Dead Fish is memorialized with a sticker on the mailbox in front of the house. Copies can be viewed online at Skott’s website, in a documentary made by a UWF student, and in the cultural archives at the University of Miami.

While living in 309, Cometbus and Satterwhite started Sub City Press with a purpose “put out literature from around the world.” Cometbus, who now co-owns three bookstores in New York, writes of learning the book trade from Satterwhite who worked at Subterranean Books, located at 9 East Gregory (closed in 2007). Cometbus still publishes the zine Cometbus and has written several books including Double Duce and I Wish There Was Something That I Could Quit.  Satterwhite is the author of several poetry books and edits Myezine. Former 309 resident Mike Brodie has three impressive photography books: A Period of Juvenile Prosperity, Tones of Dirt and Bones, and The Polaroid Kid. (He also did the title page and cover photos for A Punkhouse in the Deep South.) Cindy Crabb, another resident, has written Things That Help: Healing Our Lives Through Feminism, Anarchism, Punk, & Adventure,  and The Encyclopedia of Doris: Stories, Essays and Interviews.

A Punkhouse in the Deep South is quick and interesting reading, but several of the former residents are adamant that readers shouldn’t romanticize the house, but face its reality.

The 309 Project has revitalized the house, stored the artifacts of the era for a museum, and now welcomes artists-in-residence for a month at a time. Though they’re usually artists or musicians, an occasional writer checks in for a month. The price of a one-month stay – put on a program for the community!

Welcoming front porch with a converted newspaper stand. PHOTO CREDIT Diane Skelton

“Stubbinville, Florida – A Scab of a Town”

Always on the lookout for books to include in my Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South, I recently asked A Gift of Time author Jerry Merritt about the book’s setting, a town on the Perdido River. The science fiction novel features time-traveling main character Micajah Fenton (Cager for short). As a boy, Cager often visits an ancient relative, Aunt Cealie, who lives along the Perdido River, which forms the state line between Florida and Alabama as it flows into the Gulf of Mexico. Growing up, Cager lives in Stubbinville, “a scab of a town on the pine barrens of the Florida Panhandle.” I wanted to know where the town was so I asked the author.

In his presentation to Emerald Coast Writers, Merritt, who lives in Milton, Florida, (north of I-10 and outside the boundaries of my Literary Traveler’s scope) responded with “I take it you’ve read the book. . .  it’s fictional. . . probably Old Muskogee.”  And that’s where my research adventure began.

I knew nothing of a Florida town called Old Muskogee or plain Muskogee for that matter, though I’ve crossed the Perdido River many times. It was Merritt’s book that brought the river to life for me. He describes the origin of the river’s name (“Lost” in Spanish), the young boys who camped beside it, an old woman who lived along it, and the boys who swam across it from Florida to Alabama.

Though the book has galactic as well as American settings, there are enough references to places along A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South’s route to include A Gift of Time in my updated book. In Alabama, Merritt mentions the town of Bon Secour, the site of Old Pine Cemetery in Baldwin County, and Mobile.

According to the book’s description, fictional Stubbinville is about 20 miles northwest of Pensacola, not too far from Cantonment, precisely where the real Muskogee, now a ghost town, was.

In Pensacola in the 1950s, young Cager and his friend Arlen eat burgers in Kress’ drugstore and share fries, burgers, and milkshakes at J.J. Newberry’s lunch counter. They visit the downtown library, a stockbroker’s office on Palafox, Mayes Print Shop (founded in 1905), and Pittman’s Electronics (which may be fictional).  Those locations fulfill my book’s criteria, along with the 2000-plus four and five-star reviews for A Gift of Time on Amazon. 

S. H. Kress was located at 13-15 South Palafox in downtown Pensacola. From Florida Memory.com

Cager and friend Arlen dine on fries, burgers, and milkshakes at this J.J. Newberry’s lunch counter at 303 South Palafox. PHOTO CREDIT: PENSACOLA HISTORICAL SOCIETY.

These lunch counters, along with Woolworth’s, became famous for sit-ins during the Civil Rights era. A historical marker now stands at the corner of Garden and Palafox streets where Woolworth’s stood. Some of the buildings remain but the five-and-dimes are long gone.

Top: In 1957, this postcard features Pensacola’s new (officially West Florida Public Library) Below: the main Pensacola library after its facelift in 2019, still located at the corner of Garden and Spring Streets in downtown Pensacola. Cager and friend Arlen would have researched their lawn-mower repair business at the library in the top photo. PHOTO CREDIT: Friends of the Library

Cager lives close enough to the Perdido River to see the lights of his house shining when he’s on a camping trip. Merritt’s descriptions of the Perdido River at night, white sands glistening, are enough to make me want to camp out on the Perdido (and I do not camp!)

The mystery continued as I searched for Old Muskogee, where Merritt’s “Stubbinville” would have been.  Old Muskogee is a ghost town https://www.emeraldcoastmagazine.com/ghost-towns-of-west-florida/ but was founded pre-Civil War, around 1857, with an economy based on timber and lumber.

Perdido River at Muskogee circa 1903. Florida Memory.com Image LIB00150

At one time, prior to 1930, Muskogee was a thriving lumber and sawmill town with a population of several hundred with 1000 employees working at the mills. According to an article in the Pensacola News Journal, the town had “four mills, at least two churches, a school, stores, post office, train depot and a fire station.”  Nothing remains except for the old cemetery (here’s the YouTube video tour), not even a historical marker. Old Muskogee may be a ghost town but it lives on in Merritt’s book as well as on the internet, where it has its own ghost town website, so in a hundred years people can get to know those folks who lived in Muskogee.

NOW TRENDING: BOOK MARKET WITH VEGGIES

I’d like to push aside the daisies, take a seat, and read a good book from this rocking chair in front of Bailey’s Produce Market.

Plenty of local authors hawk their books at farmer’s markets, but I never thought books went well with fresh fruits and vegetables. That is until I saw books by famous authors displayed prominently in a produce market. When I stopped to buy fresh onions, celery, bell pepper, tomatoes, and okra for a seafood gumbo at Bailey’s in Pensacola, I discovered a bibliophile’s paradise.

I often shop at Bailey’s Produce and Nursery because of their great prices on green bell peppers and ripe tomatoes in the summer. In the winter, I go for their fresh greens to put in Gumbo Z’Herbes.

Lately, the decades-old family produce business has blossomed – with bougainvillea, mandevilla, and plenty of blooming plants for sale in a nursery section. The owners have figured out how to keep shoppers coming in every season. For fall, they display pumpkins and mums. Then around Thanksgiving, all flowering plants are removed and replaced with Christmas trees!

Inside, year-round, fresh produce is accentuated with racks showcasing local honeys, preserves, pecans, pastries, and spices.

On the way to the outdoor nursery, shoppers walk by this clever book nook with make-do shelving – a rolling cart crafted from an old pallet and a low children’s shelf made with planks and cement blocks.

But now Bailey’s has captured more than my appetite.  I can buy books at Bailey’s – children’s, gardening, health, nutrition, history and how-to books along with specialty cookbooks. And every title has something to do with fresh produce or plants. Their selection in these niche categories is wider than some big box bookstores yet more varied than Pensacola’s most popular seafood market’s bookshelf.  While Joe Patti’s Seafood Market carries some regional cookbooks, Bailey’s is the place to go for “food” books, from curry to herbs.

Orange plastic mushroom stools provide places for children to sit and look at books while mom or dad shop and read. Clever titles for young readers include Hello Worm, Our Little Kitchen, Unstoppable Us, My Nature Book, Bruno the Beekeeper, Goodnight Veggies, and How to Make An Apple Pie and See the World. They’ve kept the décor and shelves simple and functional: pallets, old wooden boxes, cement blocks and planks, and unfinished shelving units. Baskets, ceramic ducks, and colorful birdhouses adorn the shelves, but it’s clear this section is about books and reading.

Hungry for a good book? Bailey’s Produce and Nursery in Pensacola offers a variety of books for readers, young and old.

I was glad to see familiar titles like the bestselling Braiding Sweetgrass by indigenous author Robin Wall Kimmerer and Michael W. Twitty’s The Cooking Gene. Twitty takes readers, in particular African American readers, on a family tree journey via favorite foods. (I loved his Masterclass). Sitting next to Twitty on the shelf is Stand Facing the Stove: The Story of the Women Who Gave America The Joy of Cooking.  Black Girl Cooking and The Cole Family Cajun Cookbook also caught my attention. There’s even poetry like Ode to an Onion by Pablo Neruda. Bailey’s also offers books on flowers, herbs, orchids, mushrooms, and honey. Yet no title seems run-of-the-mill or ordinary. Each book appears carefully chosen and personalized for their customers alone.

If you drop in for books, produce or plants, keep your eye out for one of the Seven Wonders of Pensacola — the Jolly Green Giant. This massive wooden cutout shrunk from 32-feet to 25-feet to adhere to sign ordinance restrictions when the market moved into Pensacola’s City limits. He still towers over customers.

By the time I left Bailey’s and the books, I wanted to go home and read rather than make gumbo! Bailey’s is one of the most interesting bookselling spots I’ve ever visited.

Where’s the most unusual spot you’ve even seen books for sale? Leave a comment below, please!

 

Colonel’s Seafood Gumbo

2 cups grease (1 Crisco plus 1 olive or vegetable oil) 4 cups flour. Heat skillet, add grease and get hot. Stir flour into hot oil slowly to arrive at the paste stage to make the roux. Cook roux slowly until between light and dark brown. If space permits add 4 big onions, chopped, and cook till half done. Also add 1 chopped bell pepper, 16 stalks chopped celery, 4 cloves minced garlic, 1 cup parsley, and 2 handfuls okra, sliced thin. (You can sauté vegetables separately and add to roux later.) Add 4 quarts boiling water and 2 beef bouillon cubes. Then add 1 tablespoon tomato paste, 4 slices fried bacon, 4 bay leaves, ½ teaspoon oregano, ½ teaspoon basil, 1 teaspoon filé, ½ teaspoon thyme, ½ teaspoon rosemary, dash Worcestershire sauce, and Tabasco. Simmer until flavors meld. Add seafood (oysters, shrimp, crabs, one or all), more filé, spices, and water to taste. Simmer at least 15 minutes more.

No More Wastin’ Away in Margaritaville

The Pensacola Beach hotel that once yelled FUN now whispers luxury – a turnaround in less than 24 hours from May 31-June 1. The change is so fresh you can still see the outline of the parrot sign.June 1. The change is so fresh you can still see the outline of the parrot sign.

I’m going to miss Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville Hotel on Pensacola Beach. It’s now an independent hotel, no longer part of Buffett’s paradise. The newly named, renovated multi-story hotel is posh, pristine, and luxurious but doesn’t look like a lot of fun.  I’m thankful Margaritaville Hotel on Pensacola Beach, the first of its kind, came to Pensacola Beach when it did – to rescue our economy during the BP Oil Spill when our beaches were considered taboo and cursed. Margaritaville arrived and gave us hope, and now, at the close of the pandemic, we bid it a fond farewell.

No more locals dropping in for gumbo at Frank and Lola’s or stopping by the gift shop for souvenirs.

Personally, I said goodbye to Margaritaville by shopping their close-out sale – t-shirts, hats, anything branded Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville Pensacola Beach was 70 % off that day. Gone is their majestic, colorful sign that towered over their curved entryway off Ft. Pickens Drive. The giant blue and green parrot adorning the white building invited everyone inside for fun. LandShark Landing, the beach bar with its rustic Caribbean-style, took me away from Florida shores just like Buffett’s music. We enjoyed good times at LandShark Landing, such a favorite family venue it almost hosted a family wedding reception.

I’ll miss the gumbo at Frank and Lola’s Restaurant (from the song “Frank and Lola” on their second honeymoon in Pensacola). The inside restaurant will transform into a guests-only restaurant named Wind Rose. The gift shop no longer will feature varnished wooden sales counters and quirky signs like “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.” I just hope the new brand will keep the board games and the big tables where guests enjoyed inside-fun on rainy days overlooking the waving sea oats, windswept dunes and emerald Gulf waters. Yes, the hotel, no matter its name, has a phenomenal view in sunshine, shadows or moonlight.

My close-out purchases included t-shirts, hats, a Parrothead squeaky horn for my bike, and a philosophical “One Particular Harbor “sign for the garage. Though I’ve never been to the Caribbean, I like the rhythm of the song and the idea that everyone has “one particular harbor” that stays in their memory as they age (granted, the harbor may not be by the water). And naturally I bought a book – a paperback copy of Tales from Margaritaville with a new preface by the author, Jimmy Buffett. My prized purchase—a sticker that reads WWJBD? (You got it! What would Jimmy Buffett Do?)

I stocked up on Margaritaville merchandise when the Pensacola Beach Margaritaville Hotel rebranded. My Parrothead horn looks like the parrot on the book cover and is already on my beach cruiser.

Margaritaville’s name change calls for another revision in my Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South. On page 44 in “Searching for paradise,” I’ll add the word “former” Margaritaville Hotel and on Page 45, I’ll tweak the Jimmy Buffett Trail to read “the former site of the first Margaritaville Hotel.” On page 94, I’ll finesse the name but keep the message, “Locals sing Buffett’s praises for helping out when times were bad. It was the first of the Margaritaville Hotels. As a boy growing up in Alabama, Buffett spent many summer days on Pensacola Beach.”

My hopes are that the new brand continues to be generous and supportive of the local community. My woman’s club could always count on Margaritaville to donate gift items for our big Mardi Gras charity event, Bingo Beads & Beans.  I suspect the locals might like the fireplaces and pickleball courts the new resort plans to install, but we might not be able to enjoy that hospitality unless we’re guests.  Definitely not Jimmy Buffett style!

Speaking of Changes: A Bay St. Louis Addition

On June 1, the first day of hurricane season, I appropriately finished reading Salvage This World by award-winning Mississippi novelist Michael Farris Smith. Not quite Southern Gothic or post-apocalyptic but a little noir, this book is set along the Mississippi-Louisiana line in the near-future, where hurricanes have ravaged the area and most of the residents have moved north. Remaining are the handful who lack the way or will to leave. Jessie, a young woman with her toddler son, flees back to the area and her father, one of the few who stayed. Her father’s occupation provides the title Salvage This World. He exists by scavenging and stealing copper and air conditioning units to sell to the metal salvage yard. Smith’s style is easy to read, gripping and at the same time literary with the fluid way he has of blending words to create images.  I’m including the book in my literary travel guide because of a section in which the father, Wade, remembers taking his daughter Jessie to a beach-side hotel with a swimming pool in Bay St. Louis—before their whole world changed and swamps replaced sandy beaches.

Smith’s book left a funny feeling with me, now that Hurricane Season is upon us.  As a precaution, I recharged my backup energy stick in case we’re without power and I’d like to read another of his books on my Kindle. Salvage This World was five-star!

Wandering Around Wakulla (wah-cull’-uh)

The front of the Wakulla County Library displays a mural of library books beckoning the reader to stop and browse. Photo by Diane Skelton

On my quest to find authentic “Old Florida” and to see a manatee, I embarked on a three-day road trip traveling the back roads of the Florida Panhandle along with my husband and our two best friends from Texas. Our destination — Wakulla Springs, the largest and deepest spring in the world, home to manatees, and the site of The Lodge at Wakulla Springs, a historic hotel from the 1930s.  Wakulla County and Crawfordville, the actual town where Edward Ball Wakulla Springs State Park is located, should also be famous for its library.

Note the leg in a cast and arm in a sling in this massive Humpty Dumpty in front of the Wakulla County Library. He definitely took a great fall!

In fact, the library is so impressive when we were driving by, we stopped the car, backed up and then pulled into the parking lot to see if we could believe our eyes. From the road, I had seen giant books on library shelves and my friend had seen an enormous Humpty Dumpty with a broken leg.  Our side trip was well worth the detour.

When researching­­ my book, A Literary Traveler’s Guide to the Gulf South, I learned public libraries are sometimes better travel stops than tourist information centers. Librarians are helpful, resourceful, and friendly. They also know the best coffee shops and cafes.

Clever librarians and gardeners came up with this zinger: Novels and gardens move from plot to plot!

We lingered in front of the mural, fascinated with a “novel” garden and picnic tables. Our interest grew and we couldn’t help going inside. After all, we were on an adventure.

Inside the Wakulla County Library, I asked the librarian about the ­large mural of books decorating the front. I wanted to know how they selected which titles to display because they were so diverse and included one of my favorites, A Land Revisited by Patrick Smith. The librarian, a young man who all the patrons called by name, told me each staff member selected their favorite books to be “shelved” on the mural.

The mural even includes the Dewy Decimal call numbers, so a patron can just walk right to the shelf, pick up the book, and check it out.

The place was bustling with patrons browsing books, using computers and chatting with library staff members. Everywhere people were loving their library. The head librarian’s collection of Harry Potter memorabilia is on display for everyone to see. My traveling buddy spotted a table laden with used books for sale. While we shopped for 5-for-$1 bargains, we talked with library patrons, who offered backroads directions and good places to eat while riding around Wakulla County. And we bought books to read — the Lodge has no television.

At the front desk, I also picked up the best tourist information brochure I’d seen since we left The Lodge at Wakulla Springs several hours earlier. Even The Lodge didn’t have a brochure of this caliber (though after we left we learned the historic hotel has a second floor library for guests!) With our handy new trifold “Experience the Wonder of Wakulla County” map and guide from the local library, off we went, intrigued to see what the town of Sopchoppy might offer, unless, of course, we took another detour.

As we left the library, we thought we saw what appeared to be a little free library. On closer inspection, we realized it’s a free food pantry. At the Wakulla County Library, they feed both mind and body.