Back in the forties before anyone thought of condominiums and interstate highways, this sleepy little town where I grew up was a very different place.
This lake smelled like the sewer it was. The races knew their places; and for some, the places were few. Ferryboats charged five cents; likewise bus rides.
Schools were closed on cold days. The "season" began in January. Hotel George Washington was the grandest place on the west side of the lake. Clear Lake and Lake Mangonia were at the western edge of town and beyond them, known only by the most adventurous, stretched a vast vacant wetlands wilderness.
Air conditioning could be experienced only at Burdines. I had to go to St. Petersburg to see my first escalator. At fourteen stories, the Harvey Building was our skyscraper; now it’s hard to find.
The Saltair Hotel at Datura and Flagler is now only a faint memory. The movie theaters no longer with us are The Rialto, Arcade, Palace, Surf, Palms, Florida, Park (on Park Street. Does anyone else remember it?), and in Palm Beach, the Capri, and grandest and most missed of all, the Paramount. The Palms and Florida theaters remained later but are long gone.
Throughout the city frequent deliveries were made by the ice trucks of Royal Palm and City Ice Companies.
Unlike today, the garbage trucks were open and strong collectors would throw the cans up to be to be emptied by a good catcher standing atop the truck. Strangely, I don’t remember them smelling as bad as they do today.
Does anyone remember the fire station on Datura Street across from The Post-Times building?
We had an afternoon newspaper called The Palm Beach Times, long gone the way of most afternoon papers.
Keeping me awake in the middle of the night would be the steam locomotives switching cars, and in the early forties, the continuous flights of B-17 flying fortresses heading for North Africa. It seemed like they would go all night, every night.
That reminds me of the air raid drills. All neighborhoods had wardens to make sure no lights were visible.
Later in the forties a boy’s highest aspiration was to have a Cushman motor scooter.
What else could one ever want?
And who can forget the rationing…sugar, meat, gasoline, tires. Those were the days!
This lake smelled like the sewer it was. The races knew their places; and for some, the places were few. Ferryboats charged five cents; likewise bus rides.
Schools were closed on cold days. The "season" began in January. Hotel George Washington was the grandest place on the west side of the lake. Clear Lake and Lake Mangonia were at the western edge of town and beyond them, known only by the most adventurous, stretched a vast vacant wetlands wilderness.
Air conditioning could be experienced only at Burdines. I had to go to St. Petersburg to see my first escalator. At fourteen stories, the Harvey Building was our skyscraper; now it’s hard to find.
The Saltair Hotel at Datura and Flagler is now only a faint memory. The movie theaters no longer with us are The Rialto, Arcade, Palace, Surf, Palms, Florida, Park (on Park Street. Does anyone else remember it?), and in Palm Beach, the Capri, and grandest and most missed of all, the Paramount. The Palms and Florida theaters remained later but are long gone.
Throughout the city frequent deliveries were made by the ice trucks of Royal Palm and City Ice Companies.
Unlike today, the garbage trucks were open and strong collectors would throw the cans up to be to be emptied by a good catcher standing atop the truck. Strangely, I don’t remember them smelling as bad as they do today.
Does anyone remember the fire station on Datura Street across from The Post-Times building?
We had an afternoon newspaper called The Palm Beach Times, long gone the way of most afternoon papers.
Keeping me awake in the middle of the night would be the steam locomotives switching cars, and in the early forties, the continuous flights of B-17 flying fortresses heading for North Africa. It seemed like they would go all night, every night.
That reminds me of the air raid drills. All neighborhoods had wardens to make sure no lights were visible.
Later in the forties a boy’s highest aspiration was to have a Cushman motor scooter.
What else could one ever want?
And who can forget the rationing…sugar, meat, gasoline, tires. Those were the days!
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