We are happy to announce the addition of a new title to Chronicling America! There are now a little over 16,000 pages of Boletín mercantil de Puerto Rico available for January 1871 through December 1898.
The Boletín mercantil de Puerto Rico was first published in San Juan, Puerto Rico on March 2, 1839 under the title Boletín Instructivo y Mercantil de Puerto Rico. It was one of two main communication methods (the other being La Gaceta) for the Spanish Government on the island. According to scholar Antonio S. Pedreira, it is “a newspaper of transcendental significance in the history of newspapers in Puerto Rico”. The Boletín brings to the forefront, from a conservative stance, the daily life of the Spaniards and their descendants in Puerto Rico and serves as an important resource to study the conservative pro-Spanish political currents in the colony.
It reported on interests of merchants, on-goings of the Conservative Party (Partido Conservador), daily government happenings, major political events, and international news.
The Boletin also includes articles that provide a glimpse into social/cultural life during the time.
For example, it published several poems, sonnets, dramas, short stories and literary reviews.
It also published announcements of theater performances, identification of actors/actresses, singers, musicians, and orchestras.
And several announcements for books, textbooks, school supplies
Stay tuned! More of this title to come in the upcoming months.
Today we bring you a guest post by R. Boyd
Murphree, Project Manager, Florida Family and Community History, Digital
Services and Shared Collections, University of Florida, George A.
Smathers Libraries. He can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org and is also
on Twitter @boyd_murphree.
In his 1962 alternative history novel, The Man in the High Castle, Philip K. Dick portrays the United States as a defeated country occupied by Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan, the victorious powers of World War II. A crucial part of his premise is that President-elect Franklin Delano Roosevelt was assassinated on February 15, 1933, while on a visit to Miami. Instead of missing Roosevelt, the would-be assassin, Giuseppe Zangara, killed him, leaving the United States without Roosevelt’s leadership during the Great Depression and World War II. As one of Dick’s characters relates in her telling of an alternative history within an alternative history: “Roosevelt isn’t assassinated in Miami; he goes on and is reelected in 1936, so he’s President until 1940, until during the war. Don’t you see? He’s still President when Germany attacks England and France and Poland. And he sees all that. He makes America strong.”
The only Florida title available from 1933 in Chronicling America, the newspaper source for this blog, is the Key West Citizen. Although a small newspaper from a small town—the population was 12,831 in 1930—the Citizen covered Roosevelt’s February 1933 trip to Florida, Zangara’s attempt on FDR’s life, and the gunman’s trials and execution. This sequence of events began on February 4, 1933, when Roosevelt arrived in Jacksonville to launch a ten-day fishing trip along the state’s Atlantic coast with a stopover in the Bahamas. The trip was designed to be his last vacation as president-elect—he was elected on November 8, 1932, and took office on March 4, 1933, a month after the beginning of his fishing excursion. Roosevelt arrived in Jacksonville by train and was driven through the city accompanied by recently inaugurated Florida governor David Sholtz before boarding the yacht Nourmahal, owned by tycoon Vincent Astor, a distant relative of FDR. Five days before the trip, another prominent politician entered office. Adolf Hitler became chancellor of Germany on January 30, 1933. The target of dozens of assassination plots, Hitler’s time in office paralleled that of Roosevelt: both leaders came into power in early 1933 and died in April 1945.
FDR ended his vacation on the evening of February 15, when the Nourmahal docked in Miami. The president-elect was scheduled to make a brief speech a little after nine o’clock at Bayfront Park before boarding a train for New York. Three cars carried Roosevelt and his entourage to the park: FDR and Mayor Redmond Gautier of Miami sat in the back of the first vehicle, a convertible Buick, followed by a secret service car, and a car carrying a few of Roosevelt’s friends and associates. Roosevelt’s motorcade moved slowly through the city towards the park, which was located a few miles from the pier, and FDR waved to the large crowd that lined the streets—some 25,000 people. Once arrived at the park, Roosevelt’s car pulled up in front of the outdoor stage. FDR, disabled by polio, delivered his remarks from the Buick’s back seat. After his short speech, in which he joked about his fishing trip, dignitaries, who were seated on the stage, rose to greet Roosevelt, surrounding the Buick for a quick chat. Included in this party was Mayor Anton Cermak of Chicago, who had travelled to Miami to discuss politics with the president-elect. As FDR and the dignitaries talked, Giuseppe Zangara, an alienated Italian immigrant, stood about twenty-five feet away—he later related that the crowd was too thick to get closer to Roosevelt—when he opened fire with a pistol in the direction of FDR’s car.
Zangara managed to get off five shots before he was subdued. Each of the bullets missed Roosevelt but struck five individuals, including Mayor Cermak. His wound and that of Mabel Gill, the wife of Florida Power and Light’s president, were the most serious. Mrs. Gill and three other victims, who received slight wounds, survived the shooting. Mayor Cermak did not. He died in Miami’s Jackson Memorial Hospital over two weeks later on March 6, 1933, two days after FDR was inaugurated. The morning after the attack, Roosevelt visited Cermak. Doctors told FDR that the mayor’s wound was serious but not fatal—they expected Cermak to recover—and FDR tried to cheer up the Chicagoan before moving on to visit other victims. He then boarded a train and headed back home to New York to prepare for his inauguration.
Who was Giuseppe Zangara and why did he try to kill Roosevelt? Standing only five feet tall with a mass of curly black hair and a thick Italian accent, Zangara, who was thirty-two-years old in 1933, was an unemployed bricklayer who had been living in the United States since 1923; he became a US citizen in 1929. A native of the region of Calabria in Italy, Zangara drifted in and out of jobs in his home country all the while suffering from a painful abdominal condition that was never successfully treated. After arriving in the United States, Zangara lived in New Jersey, where his experience as a stone cutter in Italy landed him work as a bricklayer. He did well in his work during the economic boom of the 1920s, but like millions of other Americans during the Great Depression he lost his job and travelled around the county in search of work. He ended up in Miami in 1932. In January 1933, Zangara learned that Roosevelt would be visiting Miami in February—FDR’s itinerary was published in newspapers—and decided he would assassinate the president-elect. Zangara’s motive for the attack seems to have been a combination of depression and resentment about his poor lot in life and the ongoing stomach pain that he endured every day. Although he claimed the attack was due to his hatred of capitalism and capitalists, he was not associated with any leftwing political movements. He may have had a death wish. If he killed Roosevelt, his name, although infamous, would live forever and he would no longer be in pain after his inevitable execution.
His appointment with Florida’s electric chair came soon enough. After his arrest, Zangara was questioned by the Secret Service, the county sheriff, and reporters. He expressed no remorse for the attack, except his sorrow that he had not killed Roosevelt. Court appointed psychiatrists deemed Zangara unstable but could not definitively state that he was insane. Zangara was determined to accept full responsibility for the attack and would not accept advice that he plead insanity. He was arraigned on four counts of attempted murder for trying to kill Roosevelt and bystanders William Sinnott, Russell Caldwell, and Margaret Kruis. The judge also empaneled a grand jury in the event that Cermak or Mrs. Gill died, in which case Zangara would be tried for murder. Florida governor Sholtz, the press, and the public clamored for a quick resolution of the case. On February 20, only five days after the shooting, Zangara was tried in a Miami courtroom. Questioned at length by the judge, Zangara again admitted that he had done the shooting, and wished that he had killed Roosevelt. Judge E. C. Collins then sentenced Zangara to eighty years in the state prison—twenty years for each of the four victims. According to the Key West Citizen, Zangara said to the judge, “Don’t be stingy—give me 100 years.”
On March 6, Mayor Cermak died. His death meant that Zangara, who was still in jail in Miami, would be tried for murder. The grand jury indicted Zangara on the same day that Cermak died. His trial began on March 9 and concluded a day later. The judge, after hearing Zangara’s rambling account of his reason for trying to kill Roosevelt—Zangara repeated his previous statements that he committed the act because he hated capitalism—sentenced Zangara to be taken to the state prison at Raiford, where, after receiving the governor’s warrant, he would be electrocuted. In response to his sentence, Zangara yelled, “Well, I no scared of electric chair because I am thinking I am right to kill the president. Because it is capitalists, for the crooked government.” Governor Sholtz wasted no time issuing Zangara’s death warrant, signing the document on March 13. On March 20, Zangara was led to the death chamber and executed. During Zangara’s short stay at Raiford, the prison warden, Leonard F. Chapman, took up a lot of time with his death row’s most famous resident. Chapman wanted to know for sure if Zangara was sane and confirm his reason for trying to kill Roosevelt. He allowed Zangara to write a memoir, which the prisoner composed in Italian. The memoir reinforced what Zangara had said about his life, his reason for attacking Roosevelt, and his own wish to die. His memoir, which has been translated into English, is stored among Warden Chapman’s papers in the State Archives of Florida in Tallahassee.
it is impossible to say what the history of the twentieth century would have
been had FDR died that night in Miami, there is no doubt the federal response
to the Great Depression would have been much less active—Vice President-elect
John Nance Garner, the man who would have become president, was a conservative
Texas Democrat rather than a liberal New Dealer. Without Roosevelt’s resolve to
bring the United States out of its strict neutrality in foreign affairs,
isolationism might have triumphed. It is unlikely that Congress would have
passed the Lend-Lease Act, which was vital in aiding Britain and the Soviet
Union against Germany. Without naval cooperation between the United States and
Britain, it would have been much easier for Germany’s U-boats to win the Battle
of the Atlantic by cutting off supplies to the British Isles. With Britain
defeated and America far away and withdrawn, Hitler’s attempted conquest of
Russia might have been successful. The United States would have faced the
prospect of fighting Germany and its ally Japan without the crucial help of the
British and the Russians: The Man in the
High Castle’s horrendous vision of the outcome of World War II becomes more
In his classic six-volume history of the war, Winston Churchill titled the fourth volume, The Hinge of Fate, to capture the monumental importance of the year 1942: “I have called this volume The Hinge of Fate because in it we turn from almost unmitigated disaster to almost unbroken success. For the first six months of this story all went ill; for the last six months everything went well. And this agreeable change continued to the end of the struggle.” If Giuseppe Zangara’s bullets had struck and killed FDR the fate of the world might have turned in a very different and dark direction.
Citations and Additional Sources:
S. The Hinge of Fate, vol. 4 of 6 of The Second World War. Boston: Houghton
Dick, Philip K. The Man in the High Castle. Mariner
Books edition, original edition, 1962. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2011.
The political status of Puerto Ricans has been questioned ever since the island was annexed by the United States in the late nineteenth century as a result of the Spanish-American War. Questions regarding the United States citizenship of Puerto Ricans were definitely brought forth during the Supreme Court case Gonzales v. Williams (1904). The case involved Isabel Gonzalez, a twenty-year-old Puerto Rican who decided to leave the island for New York in 1902. Isabel, at the time, was pregnant and planned to reunite with her fiancée who had found a job on the mainland. Isabel also had some relatives residing in New York, including her brother, Luis Gonzalez, and her uncle, Domingo Collazo. Isabel didn’t think any issues would arise from her travels, since it was common for people from the island to travel freely to the United States. However, while on board the S.S Philadelphia, the United States Department of Treasury issued new immigration protocols, ones that would label Isabel as an immigrant alien. Even though Isabel believed herself to be a United States citizen, immigrant officials disallowed her from entering New York. The case was noteworthy and covered extensively by the Puerto Rican press. Newspapers, such as La Correspondencia (1890-1943), worked to question whether Isabel Gonzalez was indeed a United States citizen. Subsequently, her fate came to determine that of the whole Puerto Rican population.
Upon her arrival to the United States, Isabel was detained and transferred to Ellis Island. There, the newly appointed Immigrant Commissioner, William Williams established policies in which individuals traveling with less than ten dollars could be suspect to further investigation. While Isabel did have more than ten dollars on her person, Williams still labeled her with a public charge since she was traveling alone while pregnant. Deemed as “immoral” she was then prevented from entering the mainland until a relative or family member could claim her.
The ordeal turned out to be more complicated as her uncle, Domingo Collazo, and her brother, Luis Gonzalez tried to claim her and convince the officials at Ellis Island that Isabel was not entering the United States for “immoral” reasons. Even with their statements and assurances that they would take care of her, she was not allowed to leave. Thus, Collazo issued a habeas corpus petition for Isabel. The petition was passed through the U.S Circuit Court for the Southern District of New York.
In an issue of La Correspondencia from September 27, 1902, one can find a letter to the Senior Director of the paper from Isabel’s uncle, Domingo Collazo, under the title “Una carta de Nueva York”. A verdict was soon approaching at the circuit court level at the time when the letter was written. Some of the details of the case are related in the letter, such as the names of the judge involved in deciding the verdict, Judge Lacombe, and the lawyers defending Isabel Gonzalez, Charles E. Le Barbier and Orrel A. Parker. Both lawyers were praised by the newspaper as the letter’s subheading exclaims that “Puerto Ricans should give respect and recognition to the American lawyers Charles E. Le Barbier and Parker”. Collazo, in his letter, mentions how he has had to “spend money from his own earnings” for the defense of his niece Isabel Gonzalez. Nonetheless, he believes that something must be done, even “at the expense of the tranquility and the pockets of those who do not care about the elections of the political parties of the island”. Collazo ends his letter with the quote “they want the cage but reject the birds” which relates to the way he feels the United States has treated Puerto Ricans. They want the territory but reject its inhabitants.
At the circuit court level, Judge Lacombe concluded that Isabel Gonzalez was an immigrant alien and could therefore not enter the mainland freely. The facts of the verdict were published on the cover of another issue of La Correspondencia on October 18, 1902.
The case was then appealed to the Supreme Court and American lawyer, Fredric R. Coudert Jr., and Puerto Rican Resident Commissioner Federico Degetau y Gonzalez got involved in the matter. Coudert Jr. had previously been one of the attorneys in another Supreme Court case, Downes v. Bidwell (1901), a case that argued whether the rights from the United States Constitution applied to United States territories. Degetau at the time was extremely active in Puerto Rican politics and advocated for statehood and United States citizenship for the island and its inhabitants. Hence, both figures adamantly fought for Isabel Gonzalez’s cause, even though each had their own approach towards the issue, a fact that scholar Sam Erman outlines well in his article “Meanings of Citizenship in the U.S Empire: Puerto Rico, Isabel Gonzalez, and the Supreme Court.”
A letter from Degetau to the United States Secretary of Commerce and Labor was published in La Correspondencia on October 8, 1903. The letter’s heading declares “Finally, Sir Degetau publically protests the United States immigration laws applied to Puerto Ricans.” In the letter, Degetau expresses issues surrounding United States immigration laws and that deeming Puerto Ricans as alien immigrants went against the Treaty of Paris (1898), the United States Constitution and other United States laws. For example, Degetau evokes the United States March 3, 1903 Act, an act that discusses the regulations of immigrant aliens that come into the United States. Section 2 of the Act lists the types of people excluded in the United States, while Section 33 articulates that the words “United States” encompasses not only the country, but also its territories and the waters surrounding it. Therefore, Degetau cannot understand why residents of the island, such as Isabel Gonzalez, would be deemed as immigrant aliens when in fact Puerto Rico is part of the United States.
The Puerto Rican population were anxious to know the results of the case. This is evident on the front page of the December 19, 1903 edition of La Correspondenica where one can find a subheading stating “Soon we will know the opinion of the United States Supreme Court in regards to our political status. It is discussed with passion in these moments the case of Isabel Gonzalez, that presents the problem of whether ‘the flag follows the Constitution or not’”. In reality, the results of the case didn’t bring much more clarity to the situation. While the case was positive in the sense that it decided that Isabel Gonzalez, and hence all Puerto Ricans, were not immigrant aliens, it left unclear whether they truly were citizens of the United States.
It wasn’t until the Jones Act of 1917, thirteen years after the Isabel Gonzalez case, that Puerto Ricans were officially granted United States citizenship. However, it is important to note that those living on island do not have the same rights as those living in the mainland. One can moreover argue that the political situation in Puerto Rico still remains complicated with many unresolved issues. Therefore, the Isabel Gonzalez Supreme Court case has much relevance today as it is part of a long history of Puerto Ricans and their struggles in attaining their rights.
We just posted about a new batch of The Key West Citizen, but even more pages were just uploaded to Chronicling America! This batch includes January-December 1941, October-December 1942, January-August 1943, March-December 1945, January-December 1946, January-December 1947, and January-July 1949. This batch really covers the lead up to World War II, the war itself, and the beginnings of the post-war era.
Two timely stories really caught our eye when we began to explore this new batch: coverage of Pearl Harbor and U.S. entry into WWII in December 1941 and the dedication of Everglades National Park on December 6, 1947 by President Harry Truman.
Over 8,300 new pages covering September 1933 to December 1934 and January 1936 to December 1940 are now up and fully text searchable. We’ve just begun to delve into the compelling content in this new batch, but here are a few highlights we’ve found so far.
The new content includes the time that Earnest Hemingway lived in Key West and his exploits are frequently reported in the papers.
Of course there are headlines about President Franklin Delano Roosevelt including his tradition flouting 3rd term.
There’s no way to ignore The Great Depression or The New Deal. There’s lots of stories about New Deal organizations like the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and the National Recovery Administration (NRA).
Pan American World Airways continued to grow and expand their aviation network. Key West was an important hub for mail coming from and going to Cuba.
Since The Key West Citizen was a member of the Associated Press, there’s also lots of international coverage of the situation in Europe in the years leading up to U.S. entry into World War II.
Today we bring you a guest post by R. Boyd Murphree, Project Manager, Florida Family and Community History, Digital Services and Shared Collections, University of Florida, George A. Smathers Libraries. He can be contacted at email@example.com and is also on Twitter @boyd_murphree.
November 11, 1918, the last day of World War I, was anything but quiet on the Western Front. Although the high commands of the combatants knew that the armistice or cease fire agreement signed early that morning called for the combat to end at 11 am, the habits of four years of warfare kept the armies fighting into the final hour. Some American commanders, fully aware of the armistice deadline, decided not to waste the lives of their men now that the war was about to end. Other commanders believed that Allied orders to maintain pressure on the Germans meant they should attack until the armistice was in effect. In a few cases, American generals seeking to enhance their wartime resumes insisted on assaulting German positions during the war’s final minutes. The last German-held French town to fall to the Americans was Stenay on the Meuse River. American troops captured Stenay only fifteen minutes before the armistice began at a cost of 365 casualties, 61 of them deaths. The last morning of the war produced 2,738 American deaths out of a total of 10,944 casualties on all sides.
Out of the 20 million deaths in World War I, 116,516 were Americans and 1,134 of those were Floridians. In all, over 42,000 Floridians served in the war. The first Floridian to die was Second Lieutenant Wiley H. Burford of Ocala. He was killed by a German bullet in France on February 14, 1918. Burford was a graduate of Princeton University and was attending law school at the University of Florida when he entered the Army’s officer training camp at Fort McPherson in Atlanta. According to the Ocala Evening Star, the news of Wiley’s death spread through downtown Ocala “as swiftly as fire follows a train of powder,” taking “the smile off of every face.” The newspaper praised his sacrifice: “He died for America; he died for France; he died for right and justice and the welfare of the whole world.” His death, the writer hoped, would inspire reluctant volunteers, “whose feet are slow to enter the pathway of duty and honor.” The university made many tributes to Wiley, including the dedication of the 1919 Seminole yearbook in his honor. A poem in the yearbook proclaimed Wiley “Florida’s First to Fall.” The student newspaper, The Florida Alligator, also paid respect to Wiley’s loss and the deaths of the other UF students who died in the war.
Many of Florida’s war dead, including the UF students, fell to disease rather than bullets. Most fell victim to the influenza pandemic that ended the lives of some 20 to 40 million people worldwide in 1918–1919. Up to half of the American soldiers who died in Europe during the war died of the flu, not from enemy fire. In an article entitled “Uncle Sam’s Advice on Flu,” the US Public Health Service warned that the disease was “As Dangerous as Poison Gas Shells.” J. M. Wilson, a Floridian serving in the Navy, learned the truth of that warning when he returned from France at war’s end only to discover that his mother and two brothers had died from the flu in Pensacola. On October 17, 1918, less than a month before the armistice, Private Lee Bradley, an African American soldier in the 546th Engineer Battalion, died of pneumonia, most likely due to the flu. Private Bradley’s body was eventually returned to Florida. He was buried at Oak Ridge Cemetery in Rochelle, Alachua County, where his family lived. His headstone declares that he died “For World Liberty” and bears an inscription common for the war’s dead: “He left his home in perfect health, He looked so young and brave, We little thought how soon He would be laid in a Soldier’s grave.”
Private Bradley was one of over 13,000 African American Floridians who served in the Army during World War I: the US Navy and Marines did not take black men as regular enlistees, only as servants and cooks. Racism consigned the majority of black soldiers to service or labor in battalions like the 546th Engineers, Lee Bradley’s unit. Black troops also performed essential support functions in the Army’s artillery, signal, medical, and veterinary corps and often came under enemy fire. The Lakeland Evening Telegram was enthusiastic about the service of black troops. In an article on “The Negro and the War,” the paper applauded black patriotism and their patience under fire, but could not refrain from a paternalistic tone when it noted that the black soldiers were “cheerful and good natured at all times.” The article painted black troops as men without grievances, when such incidents as the Houston Riot of 1917 clearly showed the extent of African American soldiers’ resentment of their country’s racism.
On November 11, 1918, however, the nation seemed to put aside racial ill will for a day as Americans of all backgrounds celebrated the end of the Great War. Expectation of an end to the fighting rose dramatically as early as November 8, when news leaked that German representatives had arrived at Allied headquarters to discuss an armistice. Rumors of war’s end brought people out in the streets in cities across the United States after false reports that the Germans had agreed to an armistice spread through American newspapers. As a result, according to the Associated Press, “Business was suspended, schools closed, bells were rung and whistles shrieked. Prayers were offered in churches and parading citizens jammed the streets.” Finally, on the afternoon of November 11, newspapers could unleash the long-awaited headline of “Peace! Armistice Signed—World War Ends” and simply “The War Is Over.”
Only a few days after the armistice began, sentiment in the United States favored making November 11 a national holiday, even though the Fourth of July did not yet have such status. Proclaiming November 11 “the greatest day in the history of the world,” the Jacksonville Florida Times-Union argued that Thanksgiving should be moved to November 11 as the day was truly one of thanksgiving for the nation and the world. On November 11, 1919, President Woodrow Wilson recognized the importance of the day one year after the armistice was signed, releasing a prepared statement that henceforth Americans would hold Armistice Day as a day of “solemn pride.” The president was not present at ceremonies commemorating the anniversary as he was confined to his bed in the White House after suffering a stroke that left him partially paralyzed, unable to perform his public duties. He had sacrificed his health trying to get the nation to support and the US Senate to pass the Treaty of Versailles, which formally ended the war, and included the League of Nations, which Wilson believed would be instrumental in maintaining future peace. The Senate rejected the treaty and the League. Americans would go on to observe Armistice Day each year. In 1938, the day became a national holiday, and in 1954, Congress changed Armistice Day to Veterans Day to honor veterans of all the country’s wars.
The University of Florida did not forget its dead. On October 13, 1934, the university dedicated Florida Field to the memory of all the Florida servicemen who gave their lives in the war. Florida governor David Sholtz and university president John Tigert led the unveiling of two memorial plaques. Placed on the north wall of the stadium, one plaque dedicated the field to all of Florida’s Great War fallen; the other plaque memorialized the names of university alumni who had perished in the war, including Wiley H. Burford, the first of Florida’s Great War dead. Generations of UF football fans have passed these memorials on Gator Game Days. How many have taken a moment to remember the young men who never returned from Over There?
It’s spooky season once again so we’ve collected more clippings about ghost towns in Florida. Why are there so many ghost towns in Florida? Christopher Strain explains that the waves of development in the state result in a “spatial and temporal paradox: the more Florida builds and grows, the more it degrades and devolves” (Strain). Economic downturns, agricultural failure, depletion of natural resources, and disaster all contribute to towns shifting from booming cultural centers to shadows of their former selves. That said, some of these towns have fascinating histories worth discussing.
Romeo, Florida and Juliette, Florida were both towns in Marion County that were a few miles apart from each other. The Shakespearean nature of their names caught our eye and we were able to locate stories and advertisements about both towns.
Eureka, Florida, in Lake County, is another town with a rather striking name. According to an article from Ocala Style, the post office in the town operated from “1873 until 1955, then moved to Citra.” Today there’s a boat ramp at the Eureka Dam that offers access to the Ocala National Forest.
Estero, Florida is another fascinating ghost town. According to the village website, “Estero’s most noted pioneer was Cyrus Teed, leader of the Koreshan Unity.” The Koreshans moved to the area from Chicago in the 1890s to found what they called their “New Jerusalem” to escape the persecution and ridicule they faced in the city. By 1904, they were “able to incorporate 110 square miles into the Town of Estero” (Estero). A story for a longer post, Estero continued to exist even after Teed’s death and non-resurrection in 1908. Estero appears to be making a comeback, but the Koreshans no longer exist. However, you can still visit their settlement, which is now Koreshan State Park.
Yamoto Colony, located in what is now Boca Raton, was a Japanese community of farmers founded by Jo Sakai in 1905. Supported by Henry Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway, the immigrant farming community wanted to “introduce new crops and farming techniques to the state” (Morikami Website). The crops they farmed included pineapples! Yamoto ultimately disappears in 1941 due to the wartime hysteria that resulted in Japanese immigrants and Japanese Americans undergoing forced relocation by the U.S. Government.
The last two ghost towns we’ll cover this year are Viking and Oslo Florida. Despite being around 4 miles apart, Oslo is in Indian River County while Viking is in St. Lucie County. Apparently, the names of the towns were chosen by the Scandinavian families who moved to the area in the 1890s. Like Yamoto, the citizens of Viking and Oslo also engaged in agriculture, including growing pineapples. We’re not entirely sure what led to the declension of these two towns but their names are certainly interesting.