| TRAVELS OF DURSMIRG VOLUME IV THE ROGUES OF ST. AUGUSTINE AND OTHER SOCIAL MISFITS Chapter 31 |
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The local patrons, Mike Walker, Marty, O. A. Ellis (the in house chef and dining manager) also known as Mr. Ellis,
Mr. Scott the general manager, more.
This was the time when Jane and I first converged on St. Augustine with our boat Dursmirg in December of 1972.
We soon became acquainted with this intriguing piece of American history when we actually met some of the local
key players.
Breakfast at McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter;
Situated in the heart of the Oldest City just a block and a half up King Street from the bay of Matanzas Sound where
on Easter Sunday in 1513, 459 years earlier Don Juan Ponce de Leon, the first European to ever set foot in Florida
dropped anchor and came ashore.
In 1972 St. Augustine moved at an easy going unrushed pace. There was no rush hour traffic and somehow this
special little out of the mainstream place had one way or another remarkable come this far in history without slipping
into the pushy-shovey, horn-honking madness of mainstream America.
If you continued west on King Street and crossed over the San Sebastian River and out to U.S. Highway #1, you
would find the one and only stop light in town, a sign of things to come.
McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter at the corner of King and brick paved St. George Street fronted the city’
s tree covered “Central Park Plaza”.
The park covered two city blocks and is loaded with historical monuments.
On the west stands the 25 foot tall Confederate Civil War monument erected in 1872 by the Daughters of the
Confederacy honoring the 46 St. Augustine young men lost in that conflict.
At the other end on the east of the plaza, past the slave market stands a bronze statue in tribute of Don Juan Ponce
de Leon and its identical twin stands in San Juan, Puerto Rico. This statue and the two large lions adjacent to the
Bridge of Lions were donated to the city by Dr. Andrew Anderson, Henry Flagler’s personal physician whose large
prestigious home was also on King Street.
The signers of the Declaration of Independence that were incarcerated in St. Augustine after being captured in the
fall of Charleston, South Carolina to the British are honored in a bronze plaque in the plaza on King Street. Besides
the three signers, 37 other Charleston Patriots of the American Revolution cooled their heels in St. Augustine, being
victims of geography and bad timing. (All in all the British had 400 prisoners from the Revolution plus 17 French
vessels sitting in the Old City. The French prisoners were ultimately sent off to the French Caribbean Islands.)
The structures in the two block long plaza are mostly from the short occupation of the British; the symbolic slave
market building and the drab gray-stone but stately municipal building and original post office still stand.
St. George Street, named after British King George III was paved with well worn red bricks and bisects the plaza as it
meanders through the original old time business district north up to the Old City gate built in 1808 that formed part
of the walled city. The “Land Gate” as it was called was constructed of the local coquina stone and had an opening
12 feet wide and 14 feet high and still stands to this day. The original walled city even had a moat and permanent
guard but that didn’t dissuade attackers.
This scanned postcard depicting the north entrance to the Old City Gate was hand colored and
enhanced something common before the advent of color photography.
Directly across the park from McCartney’s the original 1793 Catholic Church.
That original church’s parish has become a basilica prominently marking the Oldest City’s history. This is the oldest
Catholic congregation in the United States with church records dating back to the 16th century.
With a friendly welcoming small town atmosphere McCartney’s Drug Store and Lunch Counter made any patron a
regular upon their second visit.
Most of the characters I write about in this volume were either regulars or frequent visitors that we first encountered
at McCartney’s. The cross-section ranged from the dressed for success city mayor James Lindsley and his famous
wife Athalia Ponsell Lindsley to the bus-boy Mike Walker, a delusional introvert. The rich and famous and the no-
count losers commingled here to form a motley amalgam that gave little St. Augustine its unique one-of-a-kind flavor.
Where else in the world would you ever find a small town lunch counter and restaurant with a certified chef known
for his culinary expertise? That’s right, McCartney’s was definitely the number one choice of locals and regular
rendezvous place back in the 1970s.
The chef, O. A. Ellis also known as Mr. Ellis tended the business like it was his own and also taught his skills at the
St. Augustine Technical Center. We knew Mr. Ellis was good at what he did because even his wife Billie was a
regular breakfast customer at McCartney’s.
We soon got to know Billie from our daily trips to McCartney’s for breakfast and then she told us of her job and the
incredible company she worked for.
As Billie’s incredible story unfolded we became interested in a special way in St. Augustine’s history from a different
slant and perspective.
It turned out that mild mannered and quiet Billie Ellis was the personal secretary to W. L. Thornton. W. L. Thornton
was the number one man at the Florida East Coast railroad and his boss, Ed Ball was the owner.
St. George Street
In 1972 most of the old downtown fell under the strange jurisdiction of the “Historical Preservation Board”. The
Board wielded dictatorial zoning regulations mandatory to all. Not just to structures but also to whatever moved on
the streets, including tour trains and horse carriages.
The main problem that evolved from this dictatorship was that the board of elite continuously bickered and many
times wielded their power as a political tool against unwanted land owners. They mandated their own compliance
regulations that had no continuity to any particular era in the city history.
My standing joke about the Historical Preservation Board was that their ambiguous purpose was lost in fuddled
confusion.
What possible period could they be supposedly representing and saving?
From the looks of the place I always maintained that it was of the early depression phase.
Some of the authentic historical spots on St. George Street were; the oldest school in St. Augustine and possibly the
U.S., (White Lion Tavern, a little better class of clientele than the Trade Winds, but just as smoky), the Mill Top
Tavern, which was our favorite.
The Mill Top Tavern was housed in a rickety tumbled down ancient weather-worn unpainted structure with beams of
light streaming in through the walls and ceiling sending their piercing rays into that dark dismal dwelling by day and
out by night. Climbing the squeaking creaking steps to the upstairs bar and “restaurant” set the mood for what was
in store.
The novelty of this place was that it was positively no frills rustic carried to the point of being nearly indescribable.
Adornments were nonexistent; the sparse and meager furniture was a mishmash of patched and wired together
proletarian relics dating back in time to questionable origins. This was a one room establishment with a walk out
covered patio; its only redeeming attribute was its commanding view of the old fort and the bay front.
The diminutive upstairs bar nightly featuring local entertainers never failed to draw a sizeable crowd that consistently
packed the place past capacity.
St. George Street was geared to the tourist trade and anything that could be hawked to them was for sale. From
trendy eating establishments like the Monks Vineyard where all the waiters dressed in monks outfits to a bread
bakery where the ladies were decked out in what looked to me like 16th century northern European garb.
A Norwegian wood carver and carpenter slowly and meticulously puttered away making a few wood chips and a ton
of conversation entertaining the curious and inquisitive street strollers.
There is just too much to describe here but I must say this; Jane and I never found the place hum-drum and always
enjoyed bringing our out-of-town visitors who always gave great raves about St. George Street.
St. George Street looking south in the direction of the Cathedral, 1980.
next chapter
Consider this those floor tiles came to St. Augustine from Trent,
England before the age of steam power and made their long
passage by sailing ship.
I have made the above trivet from some of those lovely tiles.
(How we came into possession of these historical antiquities is a
convoluted story I discuss in the history of the Flamingo
Apartments/Fountain of Youth in this volume.)
England before the age of steam power and made their long
passage by sailing ship.
I have made the above trivet from some of those lovely tiles.
(How we came into possession of these historical antiquities is a
convoluted story I discuss in the history of the Flamingo
Apartments/Fountain of Youth in this volume.)
