Expeditions to Florida Part I

Harriette took us on three trips to Florida. I know the first trip was Steve Martin, Mom, Bill & Bob Warnock and me. I believe the second trip was the same crew and the third trip was Steve, Mom, and me. Some of the recollections blur together so I will concentrate on the first trip in 1955. That was the year the big flood hit the Naugatuck River Valley in August. We were in Florida, so missed the biggest event to ever hit town. Another flood of lesser significance hit again in August 1957, and we were also in Florida, again and missed that one too. Aunt Betty and Uncle Al were the first of the Healey bunch to relocate to Florida. It is doubtful Mom would have traveled that far had not Aunt Betty been there. We did not stray too far from town, 50 miles was a long way and being from a small state seemed even farther. In those days there was no internet, credit cards, GPS or the like. Mom got her first modern credit card from Gulf Oil. It also had a travel service. So prior to our first expedition to Florida Mom sent off a request to Gulf and received a map or more with our Route to Florida highlighted on it, in yellow I believe. That was the route and we would follow it as that was an official route. Steve Martin had a different way of navigating. I do know that we left bright and early at 6:oo am on the appointed day. Steve driving, Mom in the other front seat, Bill and Bob at the window on either side of the rear seat and me stuck in the middle of a 1955 Light Blue Chevrolet. We were on our way. There were no interstates, so we made our way south to the Merritt Parkway and across the George Washington Bridge, we were on our way. The New Jersey Turnpike with Howard Johnson Rest Stops. After the New Jersey Turnpike we were headed for Route 301. It was in a major metropolitan area that Steve's style of navigation became apparent when Harriette shrieked "Why did you turn here???" Steve's reply as it always would be, "I was just follieing the car in front of me". and so he did on more than one occasion. We got to see the parts of some cities we didn't mean to see. As I recall it wasn't long after that Mom took over the driving duties in more complicated traffic situations, with here sacred map at the ready. Not long after we got below the Mason Dixon Line, we started seeing the "colored only" signs and didn't really have a clue. We were just told to mind the signs. Not long after we left one such place with a sign that said "colored toilets", one of my brothers grumbled, "Those toilets are the same color as ours". I'll let you figure the rest out.  Well we did manage to get on Route 301 south and not long after saw our first "South of the Border Signs" To me at least it seemed like a fabulous place with the Mexican Guy in a big Sombrero enticing you to stop.

The billboards got more enticing as you got closer, intertwined with Burma Shave and Stucky's signs. It was on the North/South Carolina Border, and still is, just as gaudy as ever. We went by it but never stopped. It was Waay out of our price range. Harriette had us on a tight budget. We did not make any reservations, Around 4:30 in the afternoon we started bargain hunting for a place to stay. Mind you, it was August, in the south, and the car did not have air conditioning. We didn't have it at home either. We kids spotted all the motels and cabins with pools right away. But if there was a place that was $2.00 a night cheaper, no pool. The cooler in the trunk had cold cuts and other sandwich ingredients and a couple grocery bags with other edibles and paper plates. We would replenish at a local store. We rarely ate at a restaurant. Luxury would be a bag of ice. We would stop at  rest stops along side of the road and picnic. At one stop I recall seeing some rather portly black ladies with cane poles fishing for cat fish for their supper. I empathized. It was a long two day trip to Florida. The further south we got, the hotter and flatter it became with more fields of black eyed peas and cotton. Amongst the fields were share cropper shacks. You could see right through them from front door to back. They sat elevated on a few rocks or some such on the sandy or red hard packed clay yards with chickens and kids flitting about. Occasionally the would be a wringer washer on some porches. By all appearances it appeared to be a hardscrabble existence, that sure erased any notion that I may have thought of myself as being poor.
It would rain some afternoons, and the thunderstorms in the south were far more intense than we experienced in the north, But we made it to East Lampbright Street in Tampa, Florida, safe sound and a little sweaty for our adventures to begin. End of Part I