A Historical 'Trap'

Every Florida traveler knows the hazard of the tourist trap.  Talk to anyone who's been to the Sunshine State on  vacation, and it's likely that you'll hear a story about overpriced food, dingy hotel rooms, and attractions that failed to live up to their hype.  Even those of us who are natives and should know better often fall prey---don't ask me about that terrible 'ghost tour' I signed up for!  But perhaps we can take comfort in knowing that grouchy tourists complaining about being "ripped off" are nothing new in Florida.

St. Augustine Street, pre-Civil War
State Archives of Florida

Florida's earliest visitors didn't come to the territory for thrill rides or to improve their golf game, they came for their health.  Pulmonary tuberculosis---often called consumption or phthisis---was a leading cause of death in the nineteenth century.  The "graveyard cough" was an all-too-common sound, and doctors could do little for its sufferers other than recommend rest and a change of scenery.  Residents of St. Augustine and other Florida port towns quickly hit upon the idea of advertising their "salubrious air" as a way to draw winter guests.  Paying "invalids" could booster the economy of what were then little more than villages.  The idea worked, and before the Civil War hundreds of patients from northern climes made their way to Florida in the hopes of recovering their health.

Just reaching St. Augustine was a nightmare.  The age of railroads was still a generation in the future, and travelers arrived either either by ocean-going vessels or one of the small steamers on the St. Johns.  Travel via the river required one to disembark at Picolata and spend the night in a filthy hotel; one memoirist wrote that no traveler ever willingly stayed there twice.  To continue to St. Augustine required a ride in a stagecoach that either bogged down in the sand or bounced along over tree roots.  "After 3 1/2 hours of this torture," the miserable invalid reached an even more "miserable ferry" that transported him to the Oldest City.

Once in St. Augustine, the sufferer's woes were increased by a lack of housing.  The first true hotels did not open until 1835, and rooming houses often lacked basic amenities such as fresh sheets and teapots.  Guests who took rooms in taverns were kept awake by nightly drinking and carousing.  The only truly hospitable place to stay was in a private home, which of course required a letter of introduction.  When John James Audubon, the great naturalist and painter, visited St. Augustine in 1831 he echoed the opinion of many of its guests, calling it the "poorest hole in Creation."

Health-seekers in Florida often felt hood-winked.  An unnamed consumptive in St. Augustine in 1839 complained that the town was not as warm as promised, and he had been forced to light a fire in April.  The local doctors overcharged for their visits, and everything about the town was "small and dull" except for the opportunity to engage in land speculation.  An 1852 author felt that physicians should be ashamed of themselves for sending sick people off to St. Augustine to die.  A third naysayer warned of fog, haze, and unexpected chills, declaring that the town's reputation as a restorative resort was "better than it deserves."

Likewise, not all residents enjoyed the company of consumptives.  One local complained that the "funereal cough" made every public venue seem like a hospital.  High society went to Saratoga to take the waters, but only "old women and ugly children" seemed to get off the boat or the stage at St. Augustine.  The sick and the well viewed each other as nuisances, and residents complained that the sudden wealth generated by winter visitors made hoteliers "sassy" and insufferable.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

St. Augustine would maintain its reputation as a winter resort for invalids until the Civil War brought Yankee soldiers as occupiers and tourists instead.  After the war, while some people still came for their health, a new type of traveler---one who was active and in search of sports and adventure---began to dominate the scene.  Florida could not cure consumption; a visitor who came to be healed was far more likely to be disappointed than a tourist who arrived to hunt and fish.

But not every invalid tourist felt trapped.  Ralph Waldo Emerson came to the city for his health in 1827.  Initially bored, he soon became proactive---he went for walks and attended court sessions, Bible studies, and temperance meetings.  Perhaps most importantly, he met an interesting Floridian---Prince Achille Murat, a nephew of Napoleon and an all-round character.  By the time he left the "little city of the deep," he admitted that he felt better.

In Emerson's story is a nice lesson for all tourists---there will be traps along the way (in Florida or any destination!) but in order to have a memorable experience one must be open to change, intrigued by the environment, and willing to interact with the locals.  A passive tourist is likely to become a disgruntled one.  A visitor who arrives with a curious eye and an open mind will benefit from his travels, understanding that a few inconveniences or annoyances are a small price to pay for the great privilege of new experiences in memorable surroundings.





Sunshine Paradise: A History of Florida Tourism (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2011)