Spanish Moss and The Everglades
Sunday, January 11th 2004 - St. Augustine, Florida
It has taken almost ten years of touring to act upon my understanding that south is where to be during the month of January. Now, after a week and a half down here I have come to the conclusion that Florida is not only another state; it is another world.
I think most of us take for granted that Florida is the sunshine state of oranges, and beaches, but I never gave it much thought beyond that. I heard tell about the strong folk music scene down here, and resolved to find out about it first hand. A year ago I began making phone calls about concerts down here, and by September a small tour of six concerts in ten days came together: the first in Savannah, Georgia, and the rest in Florida.
Our first gig was in the tiny town of Floral City. To get there, we came down Hwy 301 where, in the town of Starke, we passed my to-date favorite storefront church whose sign read, “The Holy Bang Healing and Deliverance Center.” From Starke to Waldo to Ocala, we entered a world of sun bleached and faded development. There were many squat cinder block buildings, and neighborhoods where the houses were painted sky blue or pink. It was a time warp back to the 70’s, and much of what I laid eyes on reminded me of my childhood in California. Rolling into Floral City we drove through a tunnel of gnarled oak trees with small, thick leaves, draped with Spanish moss that filtered out the bright sun creating a cool and peaceful scene.
Pete Hennings is the promoter of the concert series here, and a songwriter as well. After the concert, over a wonderful meal his wife Laura cooked up, Pete told us about his day job; a dream job, really. Through knowing the son of Béla Bartók, and having a degree in music theory, he proofreads and compares the scores of music available to the public, and the Bartók’s original manuscripts. We spent the night in front of the stereo, sprawled out on the floor with Bartok’s manuscripts, listening to Bartók, Dvorak, and Henryk Mikolaj Górecki. The icing on the cake to this musical adventure was listening to a sample of Gavin Bryars recording of “Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet.”
Heading further south we drove on small roads away from coastal development, and entered citrus orchard and beef country. Again, I could have sworn we were in California 30 years ago. Flat and rural like the San Joaquin Valley, the orange orchards go on for miles and miles. In California you’ll find semi trucks filled to the top with tomatoes; in Florida they are overflowing with oranges, and I mean overflowing: the highway was littered with oranges that had fallen from the trucks. Whenever we came to the outskirts of a town, the orchards became typically overgrown and unkempt with vines. In these orchards “For Sale for Commercial Development” signs were posted. I remembered as a kid that what is now Silicon Valley in California was then nothing but orange and almond orchards. Now you wouldn’t know.
In Homestead, Florida, southwest of Miami, we played at the Main Street Café. Ex-Manhattanite and theater promoter, Laurie Odin runs this venue with real enthusiasm and savvy. As it was our first time down here the audience was sparse, but they made up for their numbers with sheer energy and appreciation. It’s nights like these when I thank my stars that folks such as Laurie are brave enough to take chances on unknowns to the region. Our motel room was memorable as well. Situated on the main street in town, (next to an art school), some of the rooms have been decorated by ex-students. We got the “Romero Britto” room. Britto is now a famous modernist pop artist. It took us awhile of staring at the dots and squiggles covering the walls to see that it was his own signature repeated a hundred times! There was real levity about Britto’s art that made the room fun to stay in.
Departing Homestead, we took Highway 41 across the Everglades, and got a taste of what Florida is really about. On both sides of the road almost the entire way there was wildlife in abundance like I’ve never seen before. There were egrets, herons, pelicans, and so many birds I didn’t even recognize. And alligators! Big ones, little ones and all sizes in between, lazing on rocks, tree branches and muddy banks with slow, docile and content looks on their prehistoric faces. I am told that the Everglades, which constitute the entire lower half of Florida, is one broad, southerly flow of water. I imagined I could have been in Africa for how otherworldly and exotic it all seemed. No landscape I can recall east of the Mississippi carries the same impact of spaciousness and wildness as the Everglades of Florida. I recommend checking out photographer Clyde Butcher’s website. Clyde is like a modern Ansel Adams of everglades photography.
Next time we go back, which will probably be this December, we have outstanding offers to both swim with manatees and tour the Everglades on an airboat. Life is good.
February takes us out to California for a little tour and reconnecting with friends and family. If you know anybody out there, send them to a concert!
Thanks again for reading! Take good care!
Dana