It is entirely appropriate that the following 1958 stories with their original pen and ink drawings of Florida salt works were printed in the TAMPA TRIBUNE when James Augustus Clendinen (1911-1991) served as the editor of the TAMPA TRIBUNE. James was the grandson of James Augustus Clendinen (1825-1890), the former superintendent of the State of Alabama's West Bay salt works, 

James Clendinen (1825-1890) - Find a Grave Memorial

from the October 5, 1958 TAMPA TRIBUNE

The salt came from the sea. It was extracted from sea water through an evaporation process with the water boiled in huge metal vats and fires. It was scraped from the kettles over blazing "fat pine" pans and boilers into barrels and wooden boxes.

 At the height of the salt making period, Florida was supplying nearly 20 per cent of the Confederacy's salt. More than 6000 men tended the fires in the lonely salt camps usually hidden among the coastal dunes.

Center of the salt-making industry was St. Andrews Bay, near the present site of Panama City. That section became one vast battle charred, smoking ground. Time after time, the Yankee raiders smashed hundreds of salt distilleries. But the salt stills always managed to reappear, usually in the midst of the ashes of the old ones.

SALT MAKING was a natural war industry for Florida. Especially along the Gulf coast, vast pine  forests stretched down almost to the water's edge. With vast secluded areas in which to scatter the salt stills and with unlimited amounts of sea water and wood fuel at hand, salt could be manufactured cheaply. The usual salt-making camp consisted of a number of rough lumber shacks, sheds  and store houses. Around these were scattered scores of boiling pans, vats and kettles each supported by a crude brickwork furnace.

Dominating the scene were huge piles of split pine logs stacked for day-and-night use. Salt already packed into barrels and boxes was usually stacked out weather under crude awaitin gthe next wagon train which would carry it to the nearest railhead. In the bigger salt camps, there was usually a detachment of irregular infantry, charged with fighting off Yankee raiders. Old records show, however, that on all too occasions, these worth from the shelter of the deep woods while Federal troops raided. The salt-makers themselves formed a semi-military body.

They were given arms and ammunition by the state and haphazardly trained as militia. Apparently, they presented little in the way of an obstacle to the Yankee wrecking and burning sprees. The salt-maker was a figure alone in Florida history. His work was so important to the South that he was exempted from front-line military service. He lived out the war miles from civilization, usually. However, if he didn't go to war- he found it came to him rather suddenly.

The St. Andrews Bay salt raids cost, the Confederate government and private interests a total of $3,000.000, according to a New York Herald correspondent accompanying the Federal raiders. His estimate of damages included: Five hundred salt boilers and kettles-$375,000; salt on hand destroyed-$120,000; destruction of Confederate government. salt of

from the April 13, 1969 PANAMA CITY NEWS 

Saltworks: A Reminder Of Our Past

 By DOROTHY BEANLAND Staff Writer

 Nestled among acres of saw grass around a neck of water jutting into East Bay where Callaway Bayou enters lay the battered remnants of what was an important activity in Florida during the War Between the States. 

Remains of at least eight salt works were uncovered recently by Joe Saunders, soil conservation technician with the Soil Conservation Service, while surveying for a canal for a new subdivision being developed and known as "Plantation Estates". 

The historical find was made by Saunders when he noted at varying locations amid the acres of saw grass, clumps of tree growing on small hills stuck out amid the heavily eroded soil.

 He began investigating one and in digging down found the remains of brick ovens, cinders, and broken iron pots. A look around convinced him this "must be the location of an old salt-works".  

Plantation Dr - Google Maps

He searched further noting that every few hundred yards in the area other clumps of trees jutted out of the grass. Each contained the same as the first broken brick, cinders and pieces of iron pots.

 An old map shows the area where the salt-works are located once was known as Laughtin Point at the present it apparently has no name but is considered part of Callaway Point.

 Saunders has launched a one man campaign to restore the old salt-works to give present and future generations something authentic to see in the Callaway sector of Florida from the days of the War Between the States. 

Further evidence that the 'find' is authentic was located in a historical account of "St.Andrews, Florida" by G. M. West. 

In it is contained an official report telling of a raid of a party of Union soldiers attempting to intercept the Confederate boat which traveled down the bay picking up the salt from the many salt-works scattered all along the area. 

The report read:

"Additional report of Acting Master W. R. Browne, 

United States Bark, Restless: 

"St. Andrews Bay, Florida, Feb. 19, 1864. 

"Sir: I have the honor of making the following report; having gained information that a large barge would leave the Wetappo river on or about the 18th instant for East Bay, with all the material on board necessary for erecting a large salt-work, and on her return intending to bring back a cargo of salt (her capacity 1,500 bushels) 

"According to my instructions the boats left the ship at 8 p.m., the 17th instant, and proceeded to a bayou on the southwest side of East Bay, selected a place of ambush, and which the barge must necessarily pass. After lying in wait the appointed time and seeing no appearance of the barge, the men were landed, and destroyed all the works at hand, fifteen in number, among which were some of the largest government salt-works ever erected in Florida, the whole of which were successfully destroyed, consisting of five large steam boat boilers, and twenty-three kettles, together with sixteen log houses, one flatboat, a large quantity of salt, vats, tanks, and other materials connected with the manufacture of this article. After destroying the above they returned to the ship bringing with them six contrabands found at this place. 

"Very respectfully your obedient servant,

 "W. R. Browne

 "Acting Master Commanding 

"Acting Rear Admiral Theodorus Bailey

 "Commanding E.G. B. Squadron."

 The making of salt was as vital, according to Saunders, as the making of gun powder. Men working in the salt-works were exempt from the draft and the price at one time reached a $1 a pound. People came from throughout Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee to Florida to get the precious commodity as it literally became their "life's blood." It was necessary to have it to preserve meat for the lean months of the year and the sea was the only place it could be obtained.

 During Prohibition, the steamship Manteo was involved in what was celebrated as the largest liquor bust at sea in Boston's maritime history up to that point.

The Raid and Seizure

The Manteo, a sizable coastal steamer operating along the Atlantic seaboard, was intercepted and boarded by federal customs officials and Boston harbor authorities.

The Smuggling Ruse: The ship's operators attempted to disguise the massive illicit cargo by labeling and manifests that claimed the vessel was transporting standard Atlantic freight, including fish, lobsters, meats, and canned goods. [1]
The Haul: Upon cracking open the cargo hold, authorities discovered over 1,000 cases of high-grade, assorted foreign liquors. The contraband was valued at the time at approximately $50,000 to $300,000 depending on retail vs. street value estimates (equivalent to millions of dollars today). [1, 2]

The Network Exposed

The bust went far beyond a typical shoreline interception. Because the Manteo was a legitimate commercial steamer rather than a small, anonymous "contact boat," the raid yielded a treasure trove of evidence:

High-Profile Arrests: The captain and over a dozen crew members were immediately taken into federal custody. The investigation quickly climbed the corporate ladder, leading to the arrest of the steamship company's president on federal charges of conspiracy to violate the customs laws. [1]
The "Black Book": Officers seized the ship's logging manifests and personal ledgers, which contained a massive distribution registry. The books revealed the names and locations of more than 1,000 undercover liquor dealers, rum-runners, and distribution agents operating across New York, New England, and Canada—effectively crippling a massive coastal syndicate. [1]

The Manteo bust proved that rum-running wasn't just a game for midnight speedboats; it had infiltrated mainstream commercial shipping lines to satisfy the massive demand of Boston's thriving underground speakeasy scene. [1, 2]

If you are researching this event for a project or family history, let me know if you would like to explore:

The legal aftermath and trials of the steamship executives.
How the Boston "Rum Row" network operated compared to other major coastal hubs.
Details on other famous local rum-running vessels of the era, such as the Cretan or the Black D

 A NOVEMBER FIRST NEW YEAR

It sounds like you just took a really heavy hit, and I'm truly sorry you're dealing with that right now. Having someone completely stomp on your dreams or kill your momentum is an incredibly frustrating, draining, and hurtful experience. It makes total sense that you feel like the steam has been completely taken out of you.

When you've poured your energy and hope into something, having someone act like a total buzzkill can make you feel deflated and angry all at once.

If you want to vent about what happened or what your dream was, I am completely here to listen. No judgment, no unprompted advice—just a space to get it out of your system. What's on your mind?

 Lillian Carlisle West Lillian Carlisle West (1884-1970) - Find a Grave Memorial

from findagrave.com:

"We don't know how much formal education Lillian had, but George mentored her, and she was active in his business ventures. "

 from the September 29, 1909 DOTHAN EAGLE

from a 1938 Dothan Eagle article by Scottie McKenzie Frazier 

Since spending two weeks on beautiful St. Andrews Bay, we realize that a visit here proves as magical to one's soul as on the Mediterranean. There is peace & harmony on St. Andrews Bay, and so poignant that it links one's soul to the Universal! 

West Florida is Dothan's playground. St. Andrews Bay is ours by right of its nearness to us and by right of our appreciation. Just as the moon is ours the sunsets and the glory of the dawn so our love for the beauty of Florida and the Gulf of Mexico gives us right of possession. In our practical moments, we know that Panama City is really Dothan's port. On of the Yucatan Channel, Panama is the nearest gulf port to South.

  St. Andrews Bay has enough water to float the United States Navy. 

Believe in peace; yet, in the event of a war, the harbor is so protected by nature that guns, placed at the entrance of the bay, would make impassable for vessels. 

We are proud of the fact that West Florida belongs to us--we are glad that it is our back yard! When you walk down the streets of Panama City you have to shoo Alabamians out of your way--they are everywhere. As presidents of banks, lumber kings, real-estate regents, lawyers, doctors. 

One of the most Interesting Alabama Panamanians is Mrs. L. C. West (nee Lillian Carlisle), the editor of The Panama City Pilot. Mrs. West was a Troy girl.

She laughingly stated that when she went to the Troy Normal that she was regarded as the "college-cut-up." She is in the right profession now, for as an editor she can kick-up her mental heels all she pleases -there is nothing like the freedom of the press! Mrs. West takes her work seriously; she, as most editors, feels the responsibility of her editorial chair. She said: "I do my best to stand-up for what I believe is right. For I am convinced that an editor should do everything in his power to advance the civic, industrial and spiritual progress of his city, his state, and his country."

from the March 2, 1910 Dothan Eagle:

HOW IT STARTED 

Miss Lillian Carlisle, Now Mrs. G. M. West Started the Ball to Rolling 

The last issue of the Panama City Pilot had the following item, which may interest future generations on the bay: 

In the interest of future writers of the history of the first link in the Intracoastal Canal Project, the Pilot will briefly outline the facts in connection with the inception of the movement that has culminated in securing an appropriation for the cutting of a canal connecting the east arm of St. Andrews Bay, with the Apalachicola River, the popularly called "East Bay Canal." In June and July 1908 the Pilot published articles and editorials upon the advisability of connecting the river with the bay, that the river country might secure through the improvement of this harbor a much cheaper freight rate, develop the intermediate country and help in securing aid to open this harbor. These articles attracted the attention of a young lady living in Callaway, Miss Lillian Carlisle, who on July 29th had published in the Pilot an article setting forth the advantages of the East Bay Canal project and outlining a plan to secure the necessary funds to do the work. This article met with a most flattering reception. It was followed by various others, each of which was put in the form of a circular and distributed by Miss Carlisle throughout the river towns, sent to the leading citizens of Florida, Georgia and Alabama, and appeals were made by her letter, in favor of the work, to the President, Congressmen, Engineers, Chambers of Commerce. Hundreds of these letters and accompanying circulars were mailed by this lady and many very favorable responses received.

Her initial proposition was to organize a Ladies Improvement Association throughout the section interested; have them get a survey made and secure through their influence, subscriptions sufficient to begin and carry on the work cutting the canal. A Ladies Improvement Association was formed here (Dothan), and the ladies aided in all ways in their power to promote the work. Mrs. West in a sister of Mr. P. M. Carlisle, of this city, and has visited here several times.

 October 31: Chukker Meetup & Trick or Treat Halloween

Confederate Salt for Alabama Citizens

from the November 12, 1862 SOUTHERN ADVERTISER (Troy)

The Governor also mentions as having appointed A. G. McGehee, of Lowndes, to take charge the Salt Works, in Clark and Washington, who now has furnaces in operation, and able to turn out daily about 2,000 bushels salt, which the State can afford to dispense to her citizens at the rate of $2 per bushel of 50 pounds. He recommends the permanent continuance in office of McGehee. He also urges that other States be invited to assist in the development of the saline resources of Alabama. He also states that contracts have been made to receive for this State 30,000 bushels of salt from Saltville, Virginia, at a price of one dollar and twenty four cents per bushel. 

from the May 17, 2007 ABBEVILLE HERALD

Salt was one of the most acute shortages in Henry County and the Wiregrass during the Civil War. Salt was, and is, a necessary and inexpensive mineral that we take for granted today, and salt was plentiful before the war. After the Civil War began in 1861, no salt was brought into Alabama from the North. Salt shortages occurred throughout the South. Salt was essential for everyday use for people and livestock, and was very important for curing beef, pork and fish to feed the Confederate armies as well as the home front people.

No refrigeration on a mass scale existed. Salt was also used in the dying of Confederate uniforms and to tan leather. Soon after the war began, the St Andrews Bay area in Florida became one of the largest salt producing areas for the South. The little salt available in the South soon was being sold by profiteers at inflated prices of $1 per pound. The General Assembly of Alabama passed Act No.38 creating the Alabama Salt Commission on Dec. 9, 1862, to manufacture and dispense salt to Alabama families and armies. The Union Navy was already blockading the South's coastal areas, where small salt works were being located to produce salt from seawater. Mr. A.G. McGehee became the Alabama Salt Commissioner. The largest Confederate salt works in Alabama was established in Clarke County, with several smaller sites located in Washington and Mobile Counties. An estimated 5,000 men, mostly Negro slaves who had been impressed from their slave owners by the Alabama Confederate Government, were employed at the three primary state salt works. Many deaths occurred at the works due to illnesses caused by the swamp lands.

The Confederate Government had established the Confederacy's largest salt works in Saltville, Virginia. Florida's major role in the war was as a large producer of salt, cured beef, pork and fish for the Confederacy. The Florida General Assembly passed a law in 1862 permitting outside southern states, counties and individuals to establish salt works along the coast of North Florida to extract salt from seawater. Florida organized the salt makers into companies and furnished them with arms and ammunition. The Union Navy was constantly raiding and destroying the many salt works. A Union Navy raid against the St Andrews Salt Works in 1863, which the Florida Home Guards could not defend against, resulted in the destruction of nearly 300 salt works. The Union ship commander valued the loss at $3,000,000.00. The St. Andrews Bay Salt Works employees promptly rebuilt them, and they remained in operation through February of 1865. Alabama's Confederate General Assembly established a state salt works facility on East. Bay near St Andrews Bay, along with other state government's salt works. The Union forces raided the facilities in the winter of 1863. After that, the operations were shifted to West Bay where they remained until the end of the war.

The Union Navy would continue to raid the works, and on one occasion a reported 97 salt works were destroyed at West Bay. The Confederates would bring in new boilers and soon return to business. An estimated 2,500 men from Alabama, Georgia and Florida were exempted from combat duty in order to labor in these salt works. The salt would be transported from these "Government Salt Works" by wagon and river boats to Eufaula, Alabama, then to Montgomery, for distribution to several Confederate states. As the war worsened, Alabama's Salt Commission could not provide enough salt to meet the state's demand and passed a law making it illegal to sell salt outside of the state.

Several Henry County men worked in these Alabama Salt Works in Florida, including John Bland of Abbeville, an excellent blacksmith who came into Henry County in 1855; and Charles E. Kelley, born in Henry County, and worked in the West Bay Salt Works for about a year. After the war he moved to Okaloosa, County, Florida. Confederate salt was manufactured by boiling sea water in many, many large iron vats or kettles, as in the Confederate Florida salt kettle depicted in the attached image. As the water boiled away, salt was left.

This same network was used in the distribution of county salt. The county would receive salt and or money in four installments during the year. With encouragement or assistance from the Henry County Commission, several county citizens formed a private salt works called the Southeast Alabama Salt Company, located at West Bay, Florida. Mr. James Augustus Clendinen (1825 - 1890), a prominent Abbeville citizen, a highly successful and esteemed attorney, was selected superintendent of the salt works.

He recruited county men to work in the salt works in Florida. Some of the decisions passed by the Henry County Confederate Commission during the war concerning the distribution of salt included: "1862, ordered the Probate Judge to distribute the salt remaining on hand at Columbia and Woodville (now Gordon) as part of the distributive shares of the second salt installment. 1863, ordered the county treasurer to pay the Probate Judge $40 for the purchase of salt to be sold at cost to the families of indigent soldiers. Ordered to give Woodville residents, Thomas Seller's wife & child $6.76 for salt; M. Benton's wife $1.69 for salt and John L: Rayborn's wife & 3 kids $13.52 for salt.

 FISHING IN OLD-TIME DOTHAN WAS A REAL TREAT

by Doug Fuller from the November 10, 1985 Dothan Eagle

Dothan was a maze of spring-fed ponds and steams. Before the days of paved roads and traffic lights, stringers full of beautiful fish were caught…right here within the city limits. The graveled Montgomery Highway separated a dandy string of fish-filled ponds which were good places to hunt snipe and ducks, and gig frogs, and shoot rabbits and robins. Draping willow trees lined pools of sparkling water on the Northeast side of the dirt road headed towards our capital city. A natural channel connected these sipid (sic) lakes with a larger body of water which extended to the edge of West North Street in a section of town known as Baptist Bottom.

Frequent showers of Log Days (sic) and rainy spells during wintertime dropped more water than the low places could hold. Overflow water raced underneath a wooden bridge to form  Folkes Branch. The swift current crossed West Powell and Newton Streets, dog-legged across Montana, half-mooned and passed over West Main Street. Porter's Square Mall now stands directly over the main run of Folkes Branch.

The popular stream with many good fishing holes, meandered into the next wooden bridge on Hartford Road and on around Dothan County Club. Folkes Branch and several similar brooks emptied into the then large and fast-flowing Beaver Creek. Youngsters learned' about nature by lingering along Folkes Branch while going to and from school in ancient Dothan. I entered the first grade at the brand-new Highland School when the lone automobile parked in front was a Model-T coupe. It belonged to Miss Eunice Folkes, the school's first principal. Even the teachers walked to school when fish swam in Folkes Branch.

Instead of walking long routes on dirt roads, inquisitive kids found short-cuts and beat numerous foot paths to Highland School. Our favorite trail crossed Folkes Branch near a pasture fence made of barbed and 'hog wire.' We managed the exciting crossing by walking the fence. The key was to hand-hold a strand of barbed wire strung on top of four-foot high 'hog wire,' place the feet into squares at the bottom and tread, hand-overhand, foot-over-foot, to the opposite side. An alternative was to swing across by means of bullace vines. The fruit-bearing tendrils climbed high in towering sweetgum trees at Folkes Branch. By hacking long vines off near the ground, holding onto the trailing ends and running backwards as fast and far as possible, then lifting the legs, we glided to the other side and dropped on soft sandbeds. Sometimes we made it. Sometimes we didn't. Anyway, during the spring of our first year in school, we discovered 'jillions of beautiful fish swimming around in Folkes Branch.

It took our minds away from books and school. These pretty fish needed to be caught and it was up to us to do just that. The next morning, we went to school with fishing tackle tucked in hip pockets. A few fish hooks, pieces of string, scraps of lead and medicine bottle stoppers proved the essential equipment. We planned on fishing after school let out.

But, waiting for the three o'clock bell got the best of eager fishermen. We cut-out at recess and made way to our chosen spot. A tall patch of fennel weeds across the road provided a quick and easy avenue of escape. We went fishing early. Sam Hinson got there first.

By turning over several rotten logs, we quickly gathered an abundant supply of live worms and puppy-dogs for bait. Fork-ended fishing poles were cut from woodlands hiding the luring stream. Slender shoots reaching for sunshine, grew tall among bay, poplar and magnolia trees at Folkes Branch. Resourceful minds worked overtime.

While we caught more fish than bush limb stringers would hold. We could easily catch more fish, if we had a better and quicker way, take them to nearby homes, sell them and make enough money to buy all sorts of fishing tackle, thus our first business venture. We found a place and way. An abandoned fence had fallen across the stream. The ready-made footbridge was covered with leaves and limbs mixed in with other debris.

We found out that jumping on the snakey conglomeration made fish dart out, get caught in the current and flounder into shallow places. A rusty bucket retrieved from a nearby dump, made a good net. It had a hole in it. An old fashioned wash-tub; in worse shape, served as a fish box. We took turns jumping on the fish-shelter and catching fish with the bucket and filled the battered tin-tub to the brim.

It was hard to carry the heavy container with one handle missing, but we struggled and with determination, made the trip to some nearby homes just before dark. Occupants admired our bountiful catch of perch and catfish. They all wanted a mess of fish but declared, "Us ain't got no money," Bankruptcy was declared. We gave the fish away and went home where genuine 'old-timey' whoopins' waited. Needless to say, another awarding event was waiting at school the next morning. Miss Folkes sure knew how to handle a razor strap. 

Good fishing holes were within easy walking distance of every home in Dothan in by-gone days....and so were prized swimming places. They were called 'wash holes' back then. An excellent wash hole was situated in Tidwell's Woods a short distance from Highland School. Another lay back of the Country Club and still another at Beaver Creek on Route Seven, now Fortner Street Extension, just off the Circle.

The pool at the long wooden bridge was wide and too deep for expert divers to find the bottom. The hill on the other side was steep and too muddy during rainy weather for mules to pull wagons over. The conveyances had to detour out Hartford Road and return to Route Seven by way of Little Vine Church. Lots of youngsters learned to swim at Beaver Creek wash hole. I learned to swim in a wash hole near the Coast Line Railroad tracks.

The huge holed-out place on property belonging to Bill Pittman's grandmother, was known as 'big ditch.' Anyone who learned to swim in big ditch is well over half the age of our century-old city. You can bet your boots on that. Passengers looking out of train windows were often treated to exhibitions of 'new moons' performed by skinny-dippers horsing around in the 'big ditch.' Refreshments for the old-timey fun-filled days were often confiscated from watermelon patches along the way. Friendly farmers freely shared the fruits of their labors with energetic youngsters headed for wash holes. Wash holes were just about everywhere back then, but like in-town fishing holes, they vanished with the times. The advent of bathing suits and influx of mermaids changed the names of popular recreation places to swimming g holes...in our part of a changing world. As we grew...so did Dothan.

Serpentine branches were channelized and ponds drained to make way for progress. Mosquito and alligator populations declined as splendid fishing, hunting and swimming opportunities vanished. But, we're still withing calling distance of the very best that mother nature has to offer. 

Enjoy Living In Dothan.