Almost Oldest Church in Florida

Wherever you live I think an appreciation of and a sense of place is important. By luck I found this little church in my little burg while looking for something else. This church is one of the 5 oldest wooden church structures still in use in Florida.

There is some sad irony with this chapel/church. Margaret Fleming financed the building of this church. Unfortunately, she died shortly before its completion in 1878 and the first service in it was her funeral, just before the construction was completed.

Her Father-in-Law, George Fleming (1760 - 1821) immigrated from Ireland and settled in the late 1700’s on what is now referred to as Fleming Island, just south of Orange Park and Jacksonville, FL. (And across the St. Johns River from the Bartram Trail). He and his wife (Sophia Fatio) tended orange groves and other crops on their plantation. George Fleming named his island plantation Hibernia, the Latin word for Ireland, in honor of his island home country. He gained the 1,000-acre island property by a land grant from the Spanish.

The land had previously been cleared and planted, but had been abandoned. The property was on the west bank of the St. Johns River and was therefore in what was called “Indian Florida”. Land to the east of the river was called “Spanish Florida”.

George Fleming’s grave is the oldest grave recorded in the church cemetery.

Fleming left the plantation to his son Lewis. Lewis married Augustina Cortes, descendent of Spanish explorer Hernando Cortes. Augustina died during childbirth in 1832 leaving Lewis alone to raise their two children. Her grave is also on site.

Later, Lewis married Margaret Seton in 1837. She was a devout Episcopalian. They built a plantation home in 1845 that became known as the "Great House" (previous homes had been burned by local Indians).

After Lewis' death in 1862, Margaret was the overseer of the plantation. During the civil war, Union Officer Guy Henry forced Margaret and the children to vacate the "Great House". After the war, Margaret returned to the Great House and continued to oversee the plantation. To supplement revenues for the suffering plantation, Margaret opened her home as a bed and breakfast to the tourists that traveled the St. Johns River.

Margaret educated and taught scripture to her slaves and plantation workers in the sitting room of the Great House. As her congregation grew, Margaret needed more space; thus began construction of the chapel in 1875.

Margaret passed away in 1878 just before the chapel was complete. The first ceremony held in the yet unfinished chapel was Margaret's funeral service. In 1880, the church was moved to its current location, only a few feet from where Lewis and Margaret are buried.

A compilation of the headstones made in 1967 is available here: http://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/fl/clay/cemetery/stmargar.txt

Monkey Farm in Orange Park, Florida

Chupacabra, Swamp Ape, Stink Ape, Yeti, Sasquatch, and Bigfoot, are frequently in the news and stimulating the fears of ordinarily stable and sober folks. Yet, these myths have nothing on the “Monkey Farm” fear factor in Orange Park, Florida.

A sense of place. No matter where you live, a sense and appreciation of place is important.

One of my scariest memories from childhood is the big ape escape from the Monkey Farm in Orange Park. As a young Boy Scout in “the big city” of Jacksonville, Florida, I relished the chance to camp in the wilds of Camp Echockotee on the banks of the historic St. John’s River in Orange Park.

Dr. Yerkes, of Yale University, had relocated his primate study center from Connecticut to the much more ape friendly weather of Orange Park in the 1920’s. This center was secretive and suspect to the locals. So, it was ripe for myth and legend and the “Yale Yerkes Primate Center” quickly became the “Monkey Farm” in local lore.

As a young Boy Scout camping a few miles from the “Monkey Farm” I fell victim to the fears. Around the campfire came stories of the escape of a great ape or two from the “Monkey Farm”. Later that night novice scouts were sent into the dark woods to collect firewood. There we were “attacked” by “Apes” (senior Scouts) and proceeded to run helter-skelter into trees and briars trying to escape the hairy beasties. There was ceremonial washing of the soiled under shorts in the morning.

In reality there were never any escapes of chimps or apes from the center. A few years later Yale persuaded Atlanta, GA’s Emory University to take over the administration of the center, as the distance was a burden to Yale. A bit later Emory moved the center to the Atlanta Emory campus area.

Background: In the 1920’s Orange Park was a backwater burg. There were a few farms and plantations and a few hundred residents. Most ordinary residents were involved in fishing on the Saint John’s River or subsistence farming or timber industries.

The train service to Orange Park had been terminated many years before, so when the Yerkes’ local host was requested to pick them up at the train station he predictably assumed he had to drive many mile to the north to the “big city” of Jacksonville. But, Mrs. Yerkes had exercised her influence with the rail service to have them stop at the backwater burg of Orange Park. No one was there to meet them. The Orange Park host found no one at the station in Jacksonville.

The invasion by nerdy Yale scientists was met with suspicion and undoubtedly there was cultural shock by both the invaders and the locals.

There are stories of the bored and culturally deprived Yalies starting sailing races on the St. Johns River near Doctors Inlet that just boggled the minds of the locals. They could not imagine why someone would go on the water without the goal of catching fish, crab or shrimp or in someway making money. They thought the Yale eggheads were crazy.

I have recently relocated to the Orange Park area and I am still constantly on the lookout for rogue apes on the loose.

Reflecting Light

Looking for a home for folks that like to share and tell stories - especially expatriates from the Martini Republic of Motley Fool and the Martini Club. Especially one cbc.

Music from a friend - the soundtrack from "Crazy Heart" spurred this move. The song "Reflecting Light" hit me in particular as I found myself listening to it over and over again and loving it and trying to figure out why.

And that reminded me of a girlfriend from 30+ years ago who figured a way to trick her turntable into playing one track from Leon Russell's album "Carney" over and over again without playing anything else - the tune was This Masquerade. For youngin's: an album was a flat disk of vinyl with grooves that played music if you put it on a spinning table with an arm that held a needle that tracked the grooves. I went to sleep listing to that song repeat over and over again 'til I thought I would go insane.

She was OCD on that song. She also would fall in love with a particular shirt from time to time and wear it every day for a week or two at a time - hand washing it nightly so she could wear it tomorrow.

I really liked her, but thought she was a bit weird because of those quirks. I guess she was a bit OCD on me for a while, too. But after I kept listening to "Reflecting Light" I have to rethink that criticism.