Palm Beach County as it was: Changing times

By BILL McGOUN

Sixth in a series.
Part 1, Memories of Palm Beach County, 1943-1954
Part 2, The war years
Part 3, Before the urban sprawl
Part 4, The wide-open coastline
Part 5, The wide-open west
Part 6, Changing times

The first decade after World War II was not a time of big change as far as downtowns were concerned. Palm Coast Plaza, the first shopping center, was not opened until 1959, and Palm Beach Mall, the first mall, did not come on the scene until 1967.

In residential areas, however, change was the norm as the vacant lots and blocks of the coastal cities began filling in quickly. The two vacant lots across from our house on South O Street in Lake Worth became the sites of a two-story apartment building and a one-story prefabricated house.

The vacant lot at S. Palmway and 3rd Avenue where I often played sprouted a one-story group of apartments. In the southwest, new streets — C, D and E — were cut between 6th and 12th Avenues S., and
the Whispering Palms subdivision was built on the south side of 12th Avenue.

The same pattern would hold true in other coastal cities, as most neighborhoods filled up to reach their present configuration. The great leap west would come later.

As for the downtowns, there was some infill and some realignment. In addition to the department-store changes noted previously, downtown West Palm Beach would add the Surf Theater in the 300 block of Datura Street and Mike Pucci’s Bowlarama on Evernia Street between Dixie and the Florida East Coast railway. It was there that I did my first indoor bowling and had my first pizza.

Back in Lake Worth, the chief change would be the demise of the outdoor bowling alley, replaced by a five-and-dime. Otherwise, downtown remained pretty much the same into the 1950s, when the Lovett’s and Margaret Ann chains were combined and both Lake Avenue stores were closed.

The new company, Winn-Lovett, built a Kwik-Chek store on the east side of North Dixie Highway just north of 2nd Avenue. Later in the decade, Winn-Lovett would merge with Dixie Home to form Winn-Dixie and the Dixie Highway store would be renamed.

School days

I spent six years at South Grade. The school was of such a size that occasionally it had too many students in a given grade for one class but too few for two. As a result, some classes were split. I attended fourth grade in a class that was half sixth-graders and sixth grade in a class that was half fifth-graders.

The school safety patrol was drawn from boys in grades five and six. I was on the patrol for all of the fifth grade and six days of the sixth. Why? Because South Grade had a new principal who was a hard-liner on any infraction of rules. Any lapse of attention and you were off the patrol. Ditto for being late twice, my Waterloo.

That was the year that South Grade got its first girls on patrol, a change born of necessity. By mid-year all the boys in grades five and six had been kicked off.

The only field trip of the year was an excursion by bicycle to Sunset Ridge Park for a May Day picnic. This was before people got paranoid about celebrating May Day because the Communists made such a big deal
out of it. I would come home exhausted and sunburned.

In 1949 I headed to the hill on the west side of town to attend what then was Lake Worth Junior-Senior High School, housed in the two oldest buildings on the present campus. I was there for six years, graduating in 1955.

My youth included the usual mix of odd jobs, including what then were the two traditional ones, paper boy and bag boy, tasks now taken over by adults. I bagged groceries at the Kwik-Chek on Dixie Highway and was for a time one of the best paper carriers The Palm Beach Post ever had.

That’s because I was delivering The Miami Herald. I also briefly delivered the erstwhile Lake Worth Leader, a daily published out of a Quonset hut on N. G Street along the Florida East Coast railway.

The Quonset hut, a World War II innovation, became popular for low-cost construction after the war. When Lake Worth Junior-Senior High School added a metalworking shop about 1950, it was in the form of a Quonset.

Cities would adopt various strategies as they began to get built out. Some would aggressively annex while others, such as Lake Worth, were content to remain within their boundaries.

Boynton Beach and Boca Raton had more aggressive policies than did Delray Beach, which is why today Delray Beach’s city lines are closer to Atlantic Avenue than to either Ocean Avenue in Boynton Beach or
Palmetto Park Road in Boca Raton.

As to high-school education, the byword was addition by subtraction. In 1950 the downtown high schools in Delray Beach and Boynton Beach were closed and replaced by Seacrest High School, built roughly halfway between the two downtowns. The same year Industrial High School, the African-American school in West Palm Beach, was replaced by Roosevelt High School.

The “race question”

Jim Crow still was the rule in those years. Like most white youths I didn’t have to think much about race, so I didn’t. If you are African-American you can’t ignore race, as it confront you constantly.

Larry Rivers, a Florida A&M University professor, once told me in regard to the Confederate flag, “I’d like to forget about it, but everybody keeps shoving it in my face.”

If you lived in Lake Worth then, the race question was all but academic. The only African-Americans lived in the Osborne section, which was physically separated from the rest of the city. They went to the Osborne school through eighth grade and then to either Carver High School in Delray Beach or Roosevelt High, if they could arrange transportation.

Lake Worth never had the separate water fountains, rest rooms or railway waiting rooms that West Palm Beach had. About the only time we ever went into an African-American neighborhood was to eat at Harvey’s, a Tamarind Avenue institution in West Palm Beach with some of the finest barbecue I ever have eaten.

Of course, we had to order takeout or eat in our car. Only African-Americans were allowed inside. The first time I ever was inside was in the 1980s, but that was after Harvey had died and the food was decidedly inferior.

The evolution of the two-car family

A watershed event in my life, though I didn’t realize it at the time, came in 1953 when the Blosseys, our landlords on S. O Street, were killed in a traffic accident in Indiana. The new owners had other plans for the property, so we had to find a new home.

Dad bought a house at 1603 N. O Street and we moved in the summer of 1954, as I was entering my senior year in high school. For the first time, we lived somewhere where Mother, who never drove, could not walk to shopping.

In a way, it was symbolic of the rush to the wide-open spaces that would engulf Palm Beach County, and the nation, the decades to come. The two-car family would become the norm, due both to desire and to
necessity. Like all downtowns, Lake Worth’s would decline and come back in specialized form, stressing dining and entertainment.

Fortunately for my own mobility, by that time I had a car, if a 1947 Crosley could be called a car. It seems appropriate that it was built by an appliance firm, as it was about as large and as stylish as a refrigerator crate.

As I said in the first part of this series, I wouldn’t trade today for the “good old days.” I enjoy modern medicine and the Internet too much. Also, today’s society is a more just society, having excised the demons of Jim Crow for the most part.

I like to recall the days of my youth, but once around that block was enough.

- – -

A reader identified as Valesha corrected me on an item in the first part of this series. I had said the 1963 bus wreck in which 27 farm workers occurred when the bus missed the turn onto the old Six-Mile Bend bridge east of Belle Glade. In fact, as she noted, it happened when the bus collided with a truck. The wreck occurred several miles from the bridge on Brown’s Farm Road.

Memory can be a tricky thing. I tried to check my facts as much as possible but on this one I goofed. Valesha had a personal reason for remembering, as four of her relatives were among the 27 killed. Thanks for setting me straight.

Bill McGoun is a retired editorial writer for The Palm Beach Post. He is the author of four history books, including Lake Worth High School: A History and Southeast Florida Pioneers, which tells the history of Palm Beach County, the Treasure Coast and the Lake Okeechobee region through the lives of noted individuals. He is working on a history of the Palm Beach County school system.

Tags: Lake Worth, Palm Beach County as it was, schools, store

Palm Beach County as it was: The wide-open west

By BILL McGOUN

Fifth in a series.
Part 1, Memories of Palm Beach County, 1943-1954
Part 2, The war years
Part 3, Before the urban sprawl
Part 4, The wide-open coastline
Part 5, The wide-open west
Part 6, Changing times

The region west of the coastal cities was just as wide open in the 1940s as was the coastline. I n fact, west of U.S. 441 it was really open.

The Seaboard Air Line (now CSX) tracks were the western limit of coastal development. To the west were a scattering of small communities such as Westgate, Loxahatchee and Haverhill.

The only incorporated town west of the coast and east of the Glades in the 1940s was Greenacres, consisting only of the old part of town centered on Swain Boulevard.

(In those days, when it was anything but a city, it was named Greenacres City. Today, when it is a city, it is named just Greenacres. In fact, the official name in bygone years was Town of Greenacres City.)

The old-time Greenacres was an interesting mixture of Old South and Old West. One of the Greenacres students in my class at Lake Worth High, which then took all students living west of the city, brought a jug of moonshine to Senior Skip Day.

There were a few small neighborhoods here and there between Lake Worth and Greenacres. To the west, after Lake Worth Road jogged south and Jog Road crossed it there, there were to the best of my memory three houses in the five miles to U.S. 441, then State Road 7.

That road was best known then as the Range Line. Before 1949, Florida was an open-range state, which meant that in rural areas cows could go where they wished and if you hit one on the highway it was your fault. As I recall it, everything west of the Range Line was open range.

Chief Ho-To-Pi

I remember one of those three houses because it was the home of the one of most fascinating characters ever to descend on Palm Beach County. He was Chief Ho-To-Pi.

I recall Ho-To-Pi regaling my Cub Scout pack with Indian lore. We met at Calvary Methodist Church in Lake Worth, which is where he worshipped. We also went to his house at least once.

I don’t remember anything about the chief’s hygiene but I do know that one Calvary Methodist parishioner had strong views. When asked one Sunday about the morning service, he remarked that unfortunately he was sitting next to “a ripe Indian.” That was before churches, or other buildings for that matter, were air-conditioned.

Ho-To-Pi was emphatic in declaring he was not a Seminole, but rather a Cheyenne. When he died in 1969, it turned out that he was neither. He was a Greek, born under the name George Courtrulis around the turn of the 20th Century on the island of Corfu.

He evidently emigrated in childhood, as his tombstone shows he served in World War I from Illinois. What happened then remains a mystery. He already had taken the name Ho-To-Pi by 1931, as he is reported to have given several concerts in the Pittsburgh area in January of that year. He was referred to then as the “Indian Caruso.”

In 1935 he evidently was known for a song called “My Canoe (Indian Song),” listed in the sheet music collection of the California Digital Library.

He sang a concert in Cocoa Beach in January of 1947, the same year he showed up in Lake Worth. In a 1950 newspaper article he was said to have studied music in Chicago and New York City and to have toured Europe.

A 1953 magazine article referred to him as “the famous Cheyenne opera singer.” If he ever sang in my presence, I don’t recall it.

Farmland and wilderness camps

It’s hard today to envision a Palm Beach County in which there was more agriculture east of 20-Mile Bend than west, but that’s the way it was. There were more farms between Military Trail and the Range Line, and fewer in the Everglades, than today. With the exception of the enclaves I have noted, just about everything west of Military Trail was farmland.

While homes have replaced crops to the east, sugar has replaced sawgrass to the west. There had been sugar farming in the Glades since the 1920s, but the industry really took after Fidel Castro took over Cuba in 1959 and the United States cut off imports from the island.

Lake Osborne west of Lake Worth was still open country. Boy Scouts camped in what then was a wilderness along the west shore. Today the wilderness is gone and the camp is the John Prince Park campground.

The camp got its 15 minutes of fame in the early 1950s when a West Palm Beach scout leader claimed to have encountered aliens from outer space there.

The land that would become West Palm Beach’s Westward Expansion, bordering Clear Lake on the north and west, similarly was wilderness. Okeechobee Road was a two-lane highway circling the south side of the lake.

The upper Loxahatchee River wasn’t exactly west, but it certainly was wild. After the war Dad became an accountant for Southern Dairies, a division of Sealtest. The West Palm Beach plant held its annual picnic at J.O. Bowen’s Camp Loxie. A highlight of the day was a boat trip up the Loxahatchee to Trapper Nelson’s.

Victor Nostokovich, better known as Trapper Nelson (center), on his property on the Loxahatchee River with two unidentified men.

Nelson was a local legend. In those days the only way to get to his ramshackle zoo was by boat and the Loxahatchee was as wild as any river around. It felt like a trip into Darkest Africa navigating the few miles upstream from Camp Loxie.

I’ve read a lot of accounts about Trapper’s place and the one thing none of them mentions is the smell. Even to a child’s nose, which generally speaking is not as sensitive as an adult’s, the stench was overpowering.

Nelson, born Victor Nostokovich in New Jersey, came to a mysterious end. He was found dead of a shotgun blast behind his house in 1968. The official verdict was suicide but a lot of people had their doubts.

No need for a turnpike

In the 1940s the fastest way to drive from West Palm Beach to Miami was to head west to the Range Line and then south. There was nothing except scattered farmhouses in Palm Beach County and little more in Broward. That would not change until the turnpike came through in 1958.

There were no four-lane roads west of the coastal cities, but there wasn’t any traffic to speak of, either. The intersection of 10th Avenue N. and Congress Ave., west of Lake Worth, was marked with a flasher. The only building there was a small grocery on the northeast corner operated by the father of future major league baseball players Dick and Larry Brown.

There was a small grass-runway airport east of Congress and north of 2nd Avenue N. The latter was connected to 2nd Avenue in Lake Worth by a bridge over the Seaboard tracks that was eliminated when I-95 was built in the 1970s.

Many of today’s major highways were just fragments then. I do not recall Jog Road existing anywhere except in the Lake Worth Road area. Congress did not cross the canal south of John Prince Park. Belvedere Road had been cut in two by the extension of Morrison Field’s northwest-southeast runway during World War II and would not be reconnected until several years after the war.

Aerial view from the 1940s or 50s of the “Four Points” intersection of Southern Boulevard and Military Trail. Photo courtesy of the Quincey Collection of the Historical Society of Palm Beach County.

There was no Beeline Highway. To get from West Palm Beach to Okeechobee city, you had to drive north to Jupiter. When headed to Camp Loxie we used A1A, today’s Old Dixie Highway, when then ran through open country between Lake Park and Jupiter. Somewhere around the midpoint of that stretch going north it crossed to the west side of the Florida East Coast Railway.

The route west then was Central Avenue Center Street to Loxahatchee River Road if you were going to Camp Loxie, or on to Indiantown Road if you were going to Okeechobee. As I recall there was no Indiantown Road east of the present Central Avenue Center Street intersection.

All of this would change as the postwar boom gained steam. I will look at those changes, as I remember them, in the final part of this series.

NEXT: Changing Times

Bill McGoun is a retired editorial writer for The Palm Beach Post. He is the author of four history books, including Lake Worth High School: A History and Southeast Florida Pioneers, which tells the history of Palm Beach County, the Treasure Coast and the Lake Okeechobee region through the lives of noted individuals. He is working on a history of the Palm Beach County school system.

Tags: agriculture, Palm Beach County as it was, roads, Trapper Nelson