Dade County FlArchives History - Books .....The Hermit Of Chris' Island, Chapter 3 1965 ************************************************ Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/fl/flfiles.htm ************************************************ File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Joy Fisher http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00001.html#0000031 April 1, 2009, 8:24 pm Book Title: Memories Of Old Miami CHAPTER THREE The Hermit of Chris' Island WHEN I was a boy Biscayne Bay was an open expanse of limpid blue-green water from the north end to Card Sound. Little River, Lemon City, Buena Vista, Miami and Coconut Grove were separate communities on the bayshore. The wooden Collins Bridge built across Biscayne bay where Venetian Causeway is now located, was opened in 1913. But the major development of the Biscayne islands and the filling of the shoreline flats and mangrove swamps did not begin until the 1920's. I was eleven when I owned my first sailboat, a 14-foot Nassau dinghy. It drew only 18 inches of water, so I could sail almost everywhere, even across most of the shallow flats at high tide. I knew the bay - every main channel and every swash channel - as well as anybody could; and I could sail day or night. I learned the location of every sandbar from the upper end to the lower end, because I managed to get on every one of them at one time or another. At that time we were living in a three-story frame house - the Frazure House - on the site now occupied by the Columbus Hotel. Mother and Dad operated a boarding house; and they were quite successful, getting the overflow of guests from the Royal Palm and Halcyon Hotels. I kept my boat anchored just offshore, not more than 150 feet from our doorsteps. Biscayne Bay was a world of its own. Looking back, I remember that I felt as free as an osprey when I was in my boat. I knew where the fish were and how to catch them - the mangrove snappers, grunts, groupers and yellowtails that inhabited the blue holes in old Lemon City channel; and I still remember with amazement watching the grand-daddy-size bonefish feeding in large schools on the Virginia Key flats, with hundreds of tails working above the surface. But I never bothered with the bonefish; nor did I bothter with the snook. There were too many other fish that were easier to catch and better to eat. Only the tourists went after the bonefish and snook; and I remember catching hermit crabs, a favorite bonefish bait, and selling them to guests at Mr. Flagler's Royal Palm Hotel. (The luxurious Royal Palm, with accommodations for 600 guests, stood where DuPont Plaza parking lot is now located. It opened in 1896 and was torn down in 1930.) In the early days the communities along the bay were connected by wagon roads and the Lemon City channel - and the channel was the quickest route. This natural channel started in the northern part of the bay, making a gentle curve from Baker's Haulover to Little River and Lemon City. It was six to seven feet deep, with many large holes 10 to 12 feet deep. The channel cut an ultramarine blue pattern in the lighter blue-green water of the otherwise shallow bay. Except for the smaller swash channels that ran off from the main channel, much of the bay was only two or three feet deep at low tide, the bottom covered by turtle grass. There were many sandbars that were exposed at low tide, as well as shallow flats where bonefish fed. The bottom of the channel was mainly white sand. The water was so clear that you could see the fish even in the deepest holes. To the north the channel wound through the mangroves into Dumbfounding Bay, and on through Dania Sound to Bay Mabel, where Port Everglades is now located. In some places the channel was so narrow that you could reach out from your boat and touch the mangroves on either side. In the early days there was no inlet between Norris Cut, at the south end of Miami Beach, and Fort Lauderdale. Baker's Haulover, later cut through, was then a narrow strip over which small boats could be hauled between the ocean and the bay. From Lemon City to Buena Vista - at NE 36th Street- the channel swept around Bay Point; but from Buena Vista to Miami it clung close to the shore, and for most of the distance, followed a route which is today covered by fill. The filling took place in the 1920's, after the Corps of Engineers established a harbor line. Fill was dredged from the bay and pumped into the shallow water behind a bulkhead line that was established by the engineers. The channel, which went through the area, also was filled. (When the foundation for the new Miami Herald was being prepared, sections of the posts which once served as markers for the Lemon City channel were unearthed.) By the time the filling was started the Corps of Engineers had completed an inland waterway, for Miami was becoming an important boating center, and many wealthy and not so wealthy - people sailed south in the fall to spend the winter in Miami. (The Biscayne Bay Yacht Club, to which most of the wealthy yacht owners belonged, was then located at the foot of what is now NE First Street, in an area presently occupied by Bayfront Park. After the area was filled for a park the club was moved to Coconut Grove.) Just off the Miami waterfront the channel branched off into three. The Lemon City channel swung out toward the east and went through Norris Cut. Another natural channel, five to six feet deep, swung toward the southwest and went to Coconut Grove. Then there was the FEC channel. The FEC channel - Florida East Coastline - was dug by Mr. Flagler from Miami to Key West before the overseas railroad was built. Just we,st of Cape Florida it intersected with Wheeler's channel, which Mr. Flagler's SS. Miami used to reach the ocean on its way to Nassau. He had purchased the Royal Victoria Hotel at Nassau soon after completing the Royal Palm in Miami. He also built the Colonial Hotel at Nassau. People have asked me how the Lemon City Channel got its name. Why wasn't it called the Miami channel, for instance? It was named long before Miami was important; when Lemon City was the most important community on Biscayne Bay. I suppose it was natural for boatmen to think of it as the "route to Lemon City." The deeper FEC channel started at the Florida East Coast Railway's terminal docks in front of where the Freedom Tower now stands. Just south of the FEC docks was Chris' Island. It's now part of Bayfront Park, but when I was a boy a hermit, Old Chris, lived on the island. He had squatted there for years and looked upon the island as his property. He lived in the hulk of an old boat that he had jacked up and set on pilings to get the boat above the flood tides during full moon. I remember that Chris had a ladder at the stern of the boat, and I can still see him coming down that ladder when I got my boat stuck on a bar just off the shallow island. He came running out, cursing and shaking his fist at me. That bearded, stinking old hermit was the meanest human that I ever had any dealings with. When they filled in Bayfront Park, Old Chris was dispossessed. He moved out onto a sandbar in the bay near the intersection of the FEC channel and Fisherman's channel, where he built himself a frame shack on pilings he drove into the sand. Old Chris wasn't very hurricane wise - or he was foolish. He decided to ride out the 1926 hurricane in his shack. When the hurricane was over not a stick of Chris' shack was left - and, as far as I know, nobody ever saw Old Chris again. Those who boat and fish in Biscayne Bay today can hardly imagine what the bay was like before the 1920s. Except for the Collins Bridge - it was supposed to be the longest wooden bridge in the world - we had clear sailing all the way from the upper end of the bay to the, lower end. I can remember only four islands: Bird Key, off Little River; Chris' Island, at Miami; Dinner Key, at Coconut Grove, and Chicken Key, just off Cutler. Miami Beach was little more than a long strip of beach and sand dunes, with a mangrove swamp on the bay side. Because it took the old Collins Bridge tender about 30 minutes to open and close the bridge - he had to use a crank which he operated by walking round and round - I would unstep my mast and lay it down and scull under. That may seem like a lot of work; but it was faster than waiting for the bridge to be opened. In those days the Nassau dinghy was a popular small boat. These boats usually were built at Andros or Abaco. I bought mine second-handed, from David Prosser, who was in charge of The Miami Herald mail room. I paid him $20, which was a lot of money for a boy then. I made only $1.35 a week from my paper delivery route; but in the winter time I did make a little extra by selling hermit crabs to tourists for bonefish bait. It would have been impossible to sell a hermit crab to local people. They all knew how to catch them. The name Nassau or Bahama dinghy is a loose term. For there really are two types of Bahama dinghys, the Abaco dinghy and the Andros dinghy. Mine was an Abaco dinghy. I always thought that it had more graceful lines than the Andros dinghy. The Abaco dinghy had a broader stern than the Andros, dinghy; but the Andros dinghy had a heavier bow which gave it a fuller forward look than the Abaco dinghy. I used a Bahama type leg-o-mutton sail. I never got around to naming my boat; just couldn't think up anything that seemed appropriate. But I didn't think much about a name anyway. One thing I liked about this boat was the live fish well that had been built into it amidships. It was "A" shaped. Holes had been drilled in the bottom and sides of the boat so that there was a continual change of water. The well would hold about 50 pounds of fish. The fish well was like a bank. I could go to my boat at any time and get a mess of fish for the table. Every few days I'd catch one of the smaller fish and cut it up to feed the others. Catching fish in Biscayne Bay in those days was a snap. I could anchor alongside the channel almost anywhere and catch fish. And we had fish in the bay then that you now have to go out to the reef to catch. The fish began to disappear when the towns and cities began dumping raw sewage into the bay. I remember seeing the water boiling up from the sewage outfalls. People refused to eat fish caught from the bay. (Dumping of raw sewage into the bay was stopped several years ago. Miami's sewage is treated and dumped into the Gulf Stream through ocean outfalls.) I learned sailing from the, Key Westers. They were all good boatmen. I'm glad to say that I got along with them well. I learned the weather signs from them, too. When you saw the sand sharks jumping, you could expect a southwest wind in four to six hours - a bad wind for sailing, because it was puffy and uneven. And if you saw the whip-rays jumping, it was a sure sign that a northwester was coming. But if you ran into a lot of spider webs early of a morning it was a good sign of fair weather, with east or southeast breezes. The best wind for sailing was an east wind. You could sail from one end of the bay to another on a broad reach - without ever having to change the sail. The sign that I respected most was the way the conchs acted. When you saw the conchs leaving the channel and crawling out onto the shallow banks, you could be sure of fair weather; but when you saw the conchs hurrying from the banks toward the channels, you could look for a cold northwester. Looking back, I guess I spent a lot of time with my boat - maybe too much. But it gave me something to do as a boy, and I never regret this wasted time. I was proud of my boat and took good care of it. I never paid much attention to distance or to time. A few years ago someone asked me how far it was from Little River to Angel Fish Creek. I couldn't answer that one. I'd never even thought about the exact distance. In those days you weren't concerned about time and distance like people are now. I just knew how far I could go and return in a day; and that's all I cared about. Additional Comments: Extracted from: "Memories of Old Miami" by Hoyt Frazure as told to Nixon Smiley Reprinted from a series of articles first appearing in Sunday Magazine of The Miami Herald Undated, but circa 1965 File at: http://files.usgwarchives.net/fl/dade/history/1965/memories/hermitof35nms.txt This file has been created by a form at http://www.genrecords.net/flfiles/ File size: 12.7 Kb