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Travels with Danny
5/6/2007
Belle Glade, Florida.
Around the turn of the century (1900, that is), traveling authors wrote about places near and far.
Africa and Asia were two topics of interest that Americans could not get enough information
about. As technology expanded and the world became smaller, the interest in authors travel-
ing around the world and writing about it seemed to wane. Nowadays, it is a forgotten art. Allow
me to do my best to bring it back. Paul Theroux, look out.
I'm a corporate trainer. I travel to the clients to train them how to use our company's software.
This allows me an opportunity to satisfy my wanderlust by seeing new places or rediscovering
old ones. Recently, I had the opportunity to conduct some training in Belle Glade, Florida.
Belle Glade sits on the western edge of Palm Beach County next to Lake Okeechobee.
The western side of Palm Beach County is not a typical destination for families and tourists
coming to Florida. Now, the eastern side of the county is. This is where West Palm
Beach and Palm Beach are located. This is a familiar world to the average Florida tourist. It is
the home of wonderful hotels like the Breakers, that sits adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean and beckons
tourists with $1,100 a nite suites and the finest manicured lawns and hedges in the world. Drive
the circular drive to the entrance of the Breakers and expect to see valets parking Hummers, Jags,
and BMW's by the dozen.
On the western edge of Palm Beach County, a scant 42 miles from West Palm Beach, sits Belle
Glade. Belle Glade is in the middle of an agricultural area that harkens back to the days of the
Old South. It sits on the perimeter of Lake Okeechobee. Due to this uneasy alliance, the soil
around Belle Glade is rich. In fact, the town's motto is "Her Soil Is Her Fortune." Near Belle
Glade are several other similar towns, such as Pohokee, South Bay, and Clewiston. The region
is indeed a rich one for agriculture. Sugar cane, carrots, corn, and onions grow abundantly. But
wealth ends there. Upon driving into town any given morning, old rusty, dilapidated buildings become
the meeting places for migrant farm workers of all ages. These designated meeting spots are the
workers' claim to a daily wage. Buses pick them up here in the morning, and drop them off in the
evening. Some times there is enough work for all the laborers standing there. Other times, a fore-
man has to pick and choose wisely, leaving others standing there without work. The region is as
close as anywhere in Florida to what I thought the Old South once looked like.
My primary goal was business and training. However, my second goal was to find some remnant of
an incident that occurred here in 1928. The Great Hurricane of 1928 left its mark on the area. Lake
Okeechobee, which helped to make the soil as rich as it was, also showed a darker side one September
day in 1928 when it flooded the region and killed anywhere from 1,800 to 3,500 people.
The hurricane first struck the West Palm Beach area. Packing sustained winds of 150 miles per hour,
it caused catastrophic damage to beach homes, resorts, hotels, and other business buildings in Palm
Beach and nearby Jupiter. The winds did not lessen much during the 42 mile trip from the coast to
Lake Okeechobee. When the eye wall slammed into the lake and Hoover dam on the south end, it
lierally shoved the water over the dam. This brought an eight foot surge of water into Belle Glade, South
Bay, and other farming towns that existed under the shadows of the dam. While it did not necessarily
catch the residents by surprise, the severity did. If the water was not enough, the sustained winds that
went along with it was a deadly combination. Belle Glade was destroyed, South Bay was destroyed,
countless little villages disappeared from the face of the earth. Many residents drowned or were killed
by flying debris. In the end, no one is sure what the casualty count was. Many of those killed were
seasonal workers that left behind little documentation. Dozens of bodies were washed into the Ever-
glades, never to be found. In fact, it was a full 24 hours after the hurricane had passed before word was
received on how catastrophic the hurricane had been around Belle Glade. Help was very slow in coming.
A large number of bodies were buried in West Palm Beach. Many were burned in funeral pyres because
their bodies were not found until days afterward, highly decomposed. It became the worst natural disastor
to hit Florida, and today it still remains a relatively unknown incident.
My curiosity about Belle Glade had to do with whether there were any unique local stories about the
incident. Much to my surprise, there were no stories carried down from generation to generation. There
were few monuments, few artifacts pertaining to the hurricane. It was as if it never happened.
Belle Glade does offer a glimpse into an interesting and forgotten part of Florida. Florida is not all Walt
Disney and Universal Studios. There are some tangible, real cultural artifacts left from Florida's colorful
history. Belle Glade is one of them, but visitors must study the terrain carefully. The first thought-provoking
landmark is the dam, still there and still looming over the landscape. They say the same thing can't be
repeated again, but I wouldn't bet money on that comment. South Bay is an interesting collection of rusty
buildings, bars, and restaurants, many of them closed. Their names sparkle amidst the rust and broken
windows. It is obvious that there are not a lot of wealthy suburbs here. Hard working folks living pay check
to pay check. The Spanish phrasing is as common as English. Two more miles brings the traveler to
Belle Glade and nearby Pohokee. Belle Glade has such a Spanish feel that it is hard to imagine that a
person is not in rural Mexico. One building brags about being a Bowling Supermarket. Another bar,
though closed, the El Diamante, is little more than a cinder block building with a long name.
The rest of Belle Glade is similar as one drives down Main Street. Spanish is as common as English. On
the other side of town stands a state penitentiary, but it is almost unnoticable. It took a couple of drives
before I even noticed it. Along the way are designated points where workers congregate, waiting for an
opportunity to work in the fields and make a daily wage. This is the real Belle Glade. The soil is her fortune,
a fortune clouded by one of the worst natural disastors in U.S. History.
There is a monument to the hurricane, but it is well hidden. It is just off of main steet and it took me a couple
of drives to find it. If a person does their research ahead of time, seeing the monument sends chills up your
spine, knowing the true story. I got the same feeling on Islamorada, where another monument to another
hurricane sits ignored, cracking in the hot humid Florida sun.
The highway then comes to a crossroads. Here the driver can continue to go north along the lake, or head
east to civilization in Palm Beach. I chose to turn east, and drove the 42 empty miles to "civilization." I was
back in the world of Starbucks and the Pottery Barn, but not without pensive thought. The place had left
an impression on me....and I hope it does for you as well. Read about the hurricane, then take the drive if
you are in South Florida. It is truly a walk back in time sandwiched inbetween South Beach and Disney
World.
5/16/07
Richmond, Virginia
Okay, Richmond is quite a reach for me. I don't discuss Virginia history or Virginia historic sites anywhere
else on my website, so why? why? why? Here I am, though. My company has sent me on a training mission
to Richmond. The prognosis? What a place for history buffs.
My boss and I don't have much time to sight-see but we take it where we can get it. First stop is a park located
just outside downtown where the largest Civil War hospital in the world was located. It also sits on a bluff that
overlooks most of Richmond. Unbelievable. The drive there is a trip back in time. Block after block of Victorian
and antebellum homes, neighborhoods, one old building after another, relatively preserved.
To give the reader an idea of how historic Richmond is, this park that once contained the largest Civil War hospital
also has a marker for a seventeenth century battle between native Americans and whites. Both took place on the
same bluff!! Unbelievable.
The only other stop we had an opportunity to make was Hollywood Cemetery. Cemeteries are sometimes the only
place left to examine community history. Hollywood Cemetery is a gem. We locate the gravesites of two U.S.
Presidents, John Tyler and James Monroe. Oddly enough, they are located just a few feet apart. I am more excited
about finding Tyler than Monroe. Tyler was a short-lived dark horse president. Monroe was much more famous.
But the cemetery doesn't stop there. You can also find the graves of former Governor Fitzhugh Lee and 18,000
dead Confederate soldiers. A large number of them are buried in a massive tomb with a giant stone obelisk over
it. Then there's the president of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis. Davis spent the last few years of his life in
relative quiet. He did not live long after the end of the Civil War. There are perhaps dozens of other celebrities or
near celebrities buried in this cemetery, but it closes quickly so our time there is short. We also see a few stone
vaults that are artistic masterpieces. One of so art-deco that it is a magnificent work of art.
For the history buff, Richmond is the mother lode. So many interesting architectural features that the list is endless.
Don't skip Monument Drive. Worth eating is the touristy Tobacco Company, or the off the beaten path Metro Grill.
Both are highly recommended.
I have to go back and train there in July. I'll fill you in on more later!
8/15/2007
Hartsville, South Carolina
My training continued in South Carolina the summer of 2007. My company sent me to two different South
Carolina cities: Charleston and Hartsville. Ha, I can hear everyone now. Danny is going to talk about
historic Charleston, an easy choice. Well, my fine readers, my path right now is to talk about Hartsville.
Yes, Charleston was a great place to visit and stay for a week. In fact, I loved it. A beautiful place, and history
too. But no, Hartsville was a bit more intriguing, and here is why.
Hartsville is located in Darlington County, near the Darlington County International Raceway. In fact, I traveled
through several other towns just to get to it. It is about 25 miles from Florence, probably the closest large
community.
Hartsville is not a very large town. The official population places it around 8,000. The primary difference between
this town and similar small towns in the Midwest is affluence and progress. This is the home of Coker College.
In fact, there are Cokers everywhere. The Coker family is the number one reason why Hartsville is as affluent as
it appears. Think Sunoco and you think of the Coker family, and the Cokers have been very good to Hartsville.
They have literally made this town what it is today. If there are any dilapidated buildings, I didn't see them. Any
businesses closing down, I didn't see that either. The town is progressive, the town is clean, the town shows
every indication of affluence and success. This separates Hartsville from most other towns of its size, where
success has not been so prevalent, where the socio-economic levels have hugged poverty and lower middle
class more than middle and upper class.
Everything was new. There was a new high school being built. Downtown, even the old buildings looked new
and fancy. New restaurants, a new Blockbuster, a new Lowe's, and a new Home Depot. A Wal-Mart Super
Center. Interesting story about that. I have heard the argument about how Wal-Mart destroys Main Street
America. Not here. The Wal-Mart Super Center nearly hugs and kisses downtown Hartsville, but no stores
were closing, no "Liquidation Sale" signs. The two cohabitate here quite well, even accentuate one another.
I talked to the hotel desk clerk at the place I was staying. I asked them about Hartsville because the town intrigued
me. Why the prosperity? Why are there no abandoned buildings? She credited Mr. Coker with all the success.
She even said the only thing the town needed was a good steakhouse. It is now two months after my visit. It
probably has one of those now.
There is a similar town in Kansas that Hartsville reminds me. Coffeyville. Years ago, a wealthy company moved
into Coffeyville, and their first request was that Coffeyville tear down all their abandoned homes and buildings.
To keep the business happy, they complied. In one weekend, untold scores of shacks came down. The town
was cleaned up. But Coffeyville is no Hartsville. There are still boarded up businesses on Main Street, still a
hint of poor folks living on the poverty line. Coffeyville's basis for existence is similar to Hartsville's-- oil. The
approach and outcome has been much different.
I enjoyed my week in Hartsville. I felt quite comfortable there. I thought, this is definitely Small Town America.
I was expecting at least one parade while I was there. In an encyclopedia under "Small Town America," I'm
sure this town is the poster child. By the end of the week, I was ready to go home. But there was a
fleeting moment when I thought of Hartsville as the small town alternative for my kids. I thought Mayberry
didn't exist anymore, but it is alive and well and renamed Hartsville.
If you happen to drive east from Columbia, or north on I-95 towards Florence from southern South Carolina,
you may see signs for Hartsville, and then again you may not. Take the plunge and go there. Hartsville is
the success story that other small towns want to be, but have failed. You can thank Mr. Coker, or maybe it is
a group effort among all the residents. All I know is I had a choice to write about Charleston, or write about
Hartsville. I chose Hartsville. I rest my case.
Belle Meade, Tennessee
April 8, 2008
I love Nashville. I don't even hesitate to say it is one of the friendliest places in the United States, and one of the
most interesting. I was there this month. I could've written about Nashville, but not right now. I also visited the
famous Loveless Cafe, and I enjoyed that too. I did not see any celebrities, but I met Fay the Biscuit Lady and
sampled the best biscuits made in the South. Bobby Flay may have won a throw-down with Fay, but my
money is still on Fay....anyway.
Smack dab between the Loveless Cafe and downtown Nashville on Highway 100 is the old, affluent suburb of
Belle Meade. Anyone who is anyone in Nashville lives or lived there. Other suburbs like Brentwood have
taken over some of the prestige from Belle Meade, but this little place still stands high as an indicator of
wealth and success in the South. Case in point: Al Gore lives here. He has a house here. The reason I know
this is that the temperature gauge on my rental vehicle radically went up the closer I got to his house. He will
continually be haunted by global warming. Seriously, he has a wonderful house, and he is not alone. Block
after block of affluent tree-lined streets greet the casual observor. It is worth a drive. Visit the Belle Meade
Plantation for a snap shot of wealth in the South.
Belle Meade is not on any A list of tours of Nashville. Music Row, the Rhineman Auditorium, the Gaylord, the
Grand Ole Opry, these are on the A list. But Belle Meade is, nonetheless, the grand lady in town. If you love
stately homes and pleasant awe-inspiring architecture, this is the place to visit. My goal in writing about places
across the United States is to present B list destinations that are still worth the price of admission, for whatever
reason. The residents of Belle Meade would be insulted that I consider them the B list, but their quiet splendor
definitely does not make them the A list. Take a peek on your way around town.
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Galisteo and Stanley, New Mexico
July 2008
I could write about Santa Fe, New Mexico , and that alone would be a pleasure. Despite the trendy, artistic revolution in Santa Fe in the last twenty-five years, it is still utterly fascinating, timeless, and defies conventional tourism. But I’m not going to write about Santa Fe. Everyone does that. On the advice of my friend, the mayor of Moriarty, New Mexico, I ventured north on Highway 41 from Moriarty towards Santa Fe. What was I looking for? A good picture and new off-the-road discoveries. Highway 41 is not necessarily off the beaten path anymore. My first stop was a ghost town called Stanley. Stanley was once a railroad town that connected with Lamy and Galisteo. Now it is pure ranch country. The rails are gone, leaving a small community by the side of the highway. There are several old buildings in various states of decay. I got my good pictures here. Some of these appear to be related to Stanley’s boom years as a railhead. This town is located about nine miles north of Moriarty. North of Stanley are two buildings related to film companies that have been in the area. One is an old gas station that sits about a hundred yards off the highway. It is a small building that says “gas” on the side of it. A few miles further is Paradise Falls, a large building with several old cars around it. Paradise Falls was apparently nothing more than a film prop. It looks real enough and the sign is reminiscent of 50’s Route 66 structures. The scenery by now is awesome. Your camera will be going non-stop. Near here is the home of the owner of Victoria’s Secret, or so I’m told. In this area there were more films shot than you can shake a stick at. My ultimate goal is Galisteo, a wonderful, ancient former Spanish community. Galisteo has always attracted me, and this was my first trip back in fifteen years. Fortunately, it has not changed a great deal. Old adobes mix with bed and breakfasts, dude ranches, spas, a wonderful old church, and decaying adobe ruins. It is pure heaven for a ghost town hunter, even if it is not really a ghost town. Visit the church and the old cemetery on the hill. Truly remarkable. A recent influx of Californians has not had a negative impact on the community, at least not yet. From Galisteo, you can take a rickety road over to Highway 14 and Madrid. Madrid is immediately south once you get to the intersection. This old road could be trouble during rainy weather. Part of it is dirt. For a few miles you will not meet anyone on this road, which can be a bit spooky. Madrid is a film-maker’s paradise. I will save that for another time. Please visit Galisteo. It pays ancient homage to the Spanish influence in New Mexico. Visiting here is like walking back in the past, albeit briefly. Respect the cemetery. Don’t enter it, take pictures from the wall. Galisteo does things for me, a kind of déjà vu that is hard to explain. I feel at home there. Maybe you will too.
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