![]() ![]() He constructed the instrument by connecting a bass G-string to the center of a large turned-up-side-down galvanized washtub. The main attraction was Dora Addison’s piano playing, often accompanied on a homemade “gutbucket” bass by a young sailor who was stationed at the Coast Guard quarters down by the Boca Grande lighthouse. Dora and Homer Addison owned the “Temp” at that time. One of the pleasant things the teenagers enjoyed doing during their short Spring Break in the 1950’s was to gather at the Temptation restaurant before cocktail hours. ![]() The Whiddens now live in the Jacksonville area, with son Harry Jr. His telescope was often set up in back of the store. Our warm friendship with Harry and Marie is now more than half a century old!īesides his business, Harry was very interested in photography and astronomy. She made the marriage a real partnership and her congenial manner was a great asset in dealing with customers. I should also mention Marie, Harry’s attractive wife, who, as a young woman, had come down from New England to work at the Big Hotel. It must have made Harry’s cash flow a nightmare. I recall seeing Isabel Joinere, Harry’s careful bookkeeper, typing out seemingly endless lists of three or four months’ worth of items to be totaled and mailed north to a customer’s office. It was the custom of some of Harry’s affluent patrons to sign the slips for their weekly or daily purchases for Sarah Futch Tucker, the obliging and helpful cashier, then pay their grocery bill after returning north for the summer. The “season” for many of the earlier northern residents began after Christmas and ended by the end of March. This arduous schedule was considerably eased after the bridge was completed. The next morning (very early) he would retrieve his grocery-loaded truck which the ferryman had parked for him. Then he would hike back up to the train trestle, and walk all the way across to the island – in the dark! He still had four miles of island to walk to get to his apartment behind the store. He would leave the key in the ignition so that the ferryman could drive it aboard. If he did miss the boat, Harry would park his loaded truck first in line to board the ferry next morning. He always had to hurry his return because he didn’t want to miss catching the last ferry of the day back to Gasparilla. Twice a week, to stock his store, he would drive up to Tampa (“Via 301, NOT 41,” he emphatically said) to the Diamond and Tanger Food Market. He adhered to a backbreaking schedule during the “season,” before the bridge to the mainland was built in 1958. The most extreme expletive I ever heard him utter was, “Oh, my goodness!” ![]() His customers’ needs were paramount and he tried to provide any special item anyone asked for. He was a meticulous man – everything had to be neat and in order. By 1950, he had gone into the grocery business for himself in the building that came to be known as Hudson’s. He began working at the Mercantile Grocery Store, located where the Post Office now is, when he first came on the island. Harry Whidden was Sam Whidden’s first cousin. ![]() Our visits commenced seven years later, in 1950, and with each succeeding year, our stay became a little longer and we became more and more familiar with the local folk who made Boca Grande such a distinctive and delightful place to live. That was the first time I had ever heard that name, a name that became such an important part of our lives. Michael Gavin) lives in the winter, a place called ‘Boca Grande.’ ” We turned north from Punta Gorda on the last leg of the trip and, somewhere around Murdock, Tudie turned to me and remarked, “I think we are near where Aunt Gee (Mrs. On Highway 17 toward Punta Gorda, you had to keep a sharp eye out for the large number of cattle that were lackadaisically wandering back and forth across the road, because there were no fences. I haven’t been to Arcadia since the mid-90’s, but the last time I was there, the main street looked very much the way it did 50 years ago. The drive down there from Sanford in July of 1943 was an adventure. My wife, Tudie, and I settled into the new location, and one week we were invited to visit the parents of one of my close school friends who lived in Venice. After that I was fortunate to be assigned to a Naval Air Station primary fighter-training facility in Sanford, Florida. By Peter Ffolliott Finding Boca Grande I spent about a year and a half of World War II in the wind-swept, fog-bound, damp and chilly islands of the Aleutian Chain off Alaska with a Navy patrol squadron. ![]()
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