In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
At an average gait, it takes maybe half an hour to walk the circumference of the little northwest Florida town of Apalachicola. There may be outlying residential areas, but here I speak of the heart of the town. In fact the town drunk could spend entire days staggering around here and never smack his head on the same historical landmark twice. The place has more than its fair share of history, so perhaps we can redistribute its accomplishments to those towns that are less fortunate.
On the outskirts of town, next to a well manicured veterans park, stands the stately Orman House. Dating back to the early 1800's, the mansion built by Thomas Orman is made of wood that was pre-cut in Syracuse, NY and then transported to Apalachicola. Think of it as an early modular home on steroids. The specs of the house were somewhat unconventional, as Mr. Orman stood 6' 7" tall and the doorways were raised to accommodate his height. Back then, property taxed were levied, in part, based on how many doors a dwelling had that led outside. To lessen his exposure to those taxes, and still have ample access to the porches surrounding the place, Orman had floor to ceiling windows specially installed so that the windows would slide up into the second story wall. The windows functioned as doors, but did not count as such for tax purposes. And, since closets also counted as additional rooms for tax purposes, there was an outbreak of large wooden "wardrobes" about the premises. The tour guide neglected to mention if Orman was related to Arthur Laffer.
Behind the house is a weathered old shack, propped up by beams and bearing signs that quote Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., among other notables excoriating our history of slavery. The old "Slave Quarters" is falling apart. Perhaps it could be seen as appropriate that the shack, like slavery itself, has collapsed and fallen into disrepute. I like to think so anyway. It's better than wondering if, when it came to funding the preservation of that particular landmark, it had to go the back of the fiscal bus.
Down the road is the John Gorrie Museum. A physician who settled in Apalachicola in 1833, Gorrie was on hand during a severe outbreak of Yellow Fever. His patient's suffering was made much worse by the suffocating heat in the region prompting the young doctor to apply his considerable talents to the development of a machine that produced ice to cool the hospital rooms. Locals credit him with laying the groundwork for refrigeration and air conditioning. In addition to saving lives, he therefore has the dual qualification of scoundrel. After all, no good deed goes unpunished, and his good deeds led to quantum leaps in human comfort, saved the lives of young and old alike, made uninhabitable climates habitable, leading to increased productivity and higher standards of living that in turn led to spoiled little environmental statists who fly large jets across the globe in order to lecture the rest of us on where we should set our thermostats and what kinds of lightbulbs we may use. Dr. Gorrie has much to account for.
Today, as in years past, Apalachicola remains rooted in the fishing industry, with shrimp boats docked right smack downtown. The seafood industry here alone provides over 70% of the state's supply of oysters. Apalachicola has weathered the oil spill well enough. The local oysters, some of the biggest and best in the country, have remained unmolested by the spill. The old buildings that have not yet become museums today house small businesses that cater to tourists. Ice cream parlors, clothing shops, antique dealers, and a plethora of beautiful little bed and breakfast inns, picturesque motels like the one in which we stayed, and elegant restaurants, all staffed by unfailingly friendly folks, have made this a happy anniversary and a relaxing, if brief, respite from the rigors of the road. Tomorrow, all 18 wheels hit the road again, but it was deliciously peaceful to spend just a few days in one place, resting.
- Comment (6)
- · Quote
- · UnfollowFollow (1)
Comments :
May '10
Re: In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
What an interesting geography lesson. Thank you, Dave!
Jul '10
Re: In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
Taxes are the Mother of ingenuity.
Jun '10
Re: In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
Taxes are just a mother...
Re: In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
Apalachicola! I'm hugely jealous, Dave. I love that place. I stayed there at the Gibson Inn a few years back, for a Southern Foodways Alliance field trip. Ate myself silly with oysters. Met some fantastic folks. Fell deeply in love with the Gulf Coast, which really is an amazing place -- from Biloxi to Apalachicola is an amazing drive. White sands, small towns, the downscale fun of Destin -- I'm a believer.
It's also a great place to work out your environmentalism, because the oystermen there are disappearing fast. Shellfish require a fairly constant brackish water to grow -- a mix of sweet and saltwater, usually found in deltas and estuaries, where rivers meet the sea. But if the rivers are tapped upstream -- with housing developments and growing cities and the generally wasteful way we treat water -- then the oysters just don't grow. Which is a real tragedy, both for a great American way of life, and for those of us who love a fried oyster the size of a chicken breast.
The environmental left is obsessed with oil. Of which there's plenty. But water, water's a trickier thing.
Re: In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
Rob, if you get back there, the Apalachicola Inn is a great place to stay. The restaurant, Carolines (pictured above) is a good quiet place for a nice meal. I understand they threw a legendary country music singer out of the place a few weeks ago for treating the waitresses badly, which brings them even higher on my list of places I really like. The Gibson Inn, incidentally, is still very cozy, and the porch is irresistable.
Jun '10
Re: In Apalachicola, Your Oyster Is Their World
Boss Oyster! Sawdust on the floor and the best no-frills food in town. The beer's icy and the food's caught that day. It can't be beat.