Famous Photo and Rumored Drowning of President Theodore Roosevelt

Famous Photo and Rumored Drowning of President Theodore Roosevelt

It is no surprise or shock and awe to island folks when a prominent or celebrated person visits the beaches of Captiva. For others, however, it becomes a media circus with television crews, tourists trying to snap that elusive shot and newspaper reporters wanting to get the personal interview. In 1913, when the 26^th President of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt, embarked on a vacation to Captiva, one resident, Margaret Mickle was determined to meet him.

Famous Photo

In numerous books regarding Captiva history, there is always a page or two on the subject of Roosevelt’s visits to the small island. One of the heartwarming stories that never fades from island lore is that of 10-year-old Margaret Mickle, a young girl on a mission to meet the president all because her friend, Eunice Hussey asked her to.  

Four years after finishing his second presidential term, Roosevelt led a major expedition in 1913 to the Amazon, and included in his itinerary, a fishing trip to Captiva. Roosevelt and Russell J. Coles, a scientist who traveled with the former head of the White House anchored offshore to fish for devilfish and sharks. What they got was “an unusual visit from a small young lady with curiosity, dripping wet,” according to Florence Fritz in her book “The Unknown Story of World Famous Sanibel & Captiva.”

Fritz recalls the account of the visit:

Sallying forth in a leaky rowboat she [Margaret Mickle and her friend Paul Gore] headed for the Roosevelt barge. Row as she would, disaster dogged her journey. At length, holding her camera high and dry, she swam the rest of the distance, leaving her boat to sink. [Paul swam back to shore].

   No strangers were allowed aboard the floating Roosevelt-Cole domicile, but as she approached it, the crew, observing her plight, fished her out of the Sound like a drowning kitten.

   Clutching her camera, with puddle[s] around her on the deck, she inquired loudly: “Where’s Teddy?”

   The crew advised her no one could bother him.

   She wailed. “All my life I wanted to shake a president’s hand, and I’m not about to leave without doing it now!”

   The commotion brought Roosevelt to the deck, roaring with laughter. “Anyone who calls me ‘Teddy’ can see me,” he said.

   Waving aside the crew, he invited Maggie in for a bite to eat.

Mickle was able to meet the president and snap a picture for her friend. Roosevelt also accepted an invitation to Mickle’s house for dinner. Over the years the two became friends writing about “half a dozen letters,” according Margaret Mickle. From an article she wrote back 1991, she recalled that he gave her “a pair of slippers made from fish skin, an autographed copy of the photo she took of him and Cole, and a .22 rifle.” For the rest of her life she never understood why Roosevelt gave her a rifle.

1917 Trip to Captiva

The former president returned to Captiva four years later in March 1917. Again he traveled with Russell Cole and was fishing for devilfish and sharks. He arrived in Punta Gorda and made a quick speech in which he joked that he cared “not for the excitement of battling with one of the deep sea denizens, but [would] rest and derive pleasure from seeing Mr. Cole do the strenuous work.”

The party then boarded the steamer Wallace and made their way to the island for a ten-day day period. Shortly after catching two devilfish, a telegram arrived via Hal Frierson and a “group of ladies.” They were stopped and informed that Roosevelt was sick, “but on finding there were ladies in the party,” reported the local paper, “Mr. Roosevelt came out and greeted them.”

The telegram was an invitation for him to visit Fort Myers. Roosevelt declined, stating that he had business in New York at the beginning of the week.

Roosevelt Drowned?

A few days into his fishing outing, rumors around Fort Myers and Punta Gorda were that Roosevelt had drowned. The headline for the March 28 edition of the paper was “Rumor Current That Roosevelt Been Drowned.”

This caused considerable excitement throughout Fort Myers, as officials tried to verify the rumor and the source. In Punta Gorda, where Roosevelt had a headquarters set up, no staff member had no knowledge of “any such misfortune.” Officials at Punta Rassa and Boca Grande “believed that the rumor was the result of vivid imagination on the part of someone somewhere.”

Later in the afternoon, William Stanley Hanson (representing Senator Charles A. Stadler), Walter P. Franklin, County Judge H. L. Williamson, E. W. Ashmead, and Tom Colcord headed to Captiva in a speedboat to investigate the alleged drowning.

Upon arriving at Roosevelt’s camp, the search party found him dictating to his secretary. They explained the reason for their unsolicited visit and handed the former president a bundle of newspapers that referenced his rumored drowning. “You may say,” he told them, “in the words of Mark Twain, the news of my death has been greatly exaggerated.” After sharing a laugh about the news, Roosevelt proceeded to show the gentlemen a devilfish he caught measuring 18 feet and two inches.

Urgent Telegram

A day after the rumors of his drowning were put to rest, an urgent telegram reached Roosevelt informing him that America was going to enter WWI. He immediately cut short his fishing adventure by a couple of days. At Punta Gorda he said to a crowd that had gathered, “There are only two classes in America now, Americans and Anti-Americans. I care not what a man’s religion or politics may be if he is only a red-blooded American.” He then shook hands with the musicians of the Dixie Orchestra and many citizens that assembled on the platform. They waved him farewell as the Pullman car departed the station heading north.

Unaware of Roosevelt’s quick departure from the island was Dr. Walter S. Turner. The two had become friends during the former president’s first visit. Upon returning home, Dr. Turner found a message pinned to his front door. In the note, Roosevelt expressed what a fine time he had, how much he thought of Captiva, and promised to return.

Less than two years after he cut short his trip to the island, Theodore Roosevelt died unexpectedly at his home, Sagamore Hill, on January 6, 1919. The cause of death was a blood clot that detached from a vein and entered his lungs.

Sadden by the news of his passing, Captiva residents will always have their Margaret Mickle story, along with her photo and memories of his fishing trips to share with future generations of islanders. 

The Beach Lighthouse That Never Was

The Beach Lighthouse That Never Was

The Florida coastline encompasses 1,350 miles. Besides lavish beaches, five-star resorts, and fishing piers, the Florida Lighthouses website states, “At one time there were about 65 lighthouses off Florida, but the elements, time and neglect have resulted in the loss of many of them.”

Sadly, only 30 remain, and a few of those are not even operational. Close to our community we have the Boca Grande Rear Range Light, Boca Grande Lighthouse, and the Sanibel Island Lighthouse. It seems almost out of place that Fort Myers Beach and Fort Myers never erected a lighthouse. Yet, if the Southwest Florida Historical Society had their way in 1970, and James M. Bratt lived long enough to follow through with his plans in 1899, each would have their own light to shine.

The Boca Grande Lighthouse of Fort Myers

It seems plausible that Fort Myers should have a lighthouse. It could be situated somewhere along the 67-mile Caloosahatchee River. In the early 1970s, that almost came to fruition.

At the September 10, 1970, board meeting of the Southwest Florida Historical Society, the subject of the Boca Grande Lighthouse (also known as the Gasparilla Lighthouse) was brought to the table. It was noted that the Manatee Marine Museum was interested in having the structure moved to Manatee County. William Carey Johnson, a Boca Grande native, boat captain and author of Boca Grande: The Early Days, Memoirs of an Island Son, thought it better to have it moved to Lee County. Board members were in favor of the idea and immediately discussed procuring funds from the state and other sources to assist with the move.

With one signature away from relocating the structure to the base of Monroe Street in downtown Fort Myers, a few residents of Boca Grande formed a committee and rallied to save and restore their beloved lighthouse. It now sits fully restored to its former grandeur and serves as a museum for the Boca Grande Historical Society.

Dr. Bratt’s Tomatoes

Long before the thought of the moving the Boca Grande Lighthouse to Fort Myers, Dr. James M. Bratt, an early homesteader on Fort Myers Beach was plotting to erect a lighthouse on the beach.

Dr. Bratt, a New York resident arrived on Fort Myers Beach in 1895. He homesteaded 150 acres and attempted to farm tomatoes. His first harvest was recorded as “a wonderful first crop,” but in mid February 1895, a burst of Arctic air blew into town. It was referred to as “the cold wave.” The thermometer dipped down to 38° and only warmed up to 40° by morning. The orange groves did not suffer from the cold temps, but “beans and other tender vegetables [were] killed,” according to a report in the Fort Myers Press.

Residents down in Marco Island said the “mercury stood at 36° until 9 a.m., but did not get above 39° all day.” There were even reports of snow and “tomatoes are badly damaged.”

Four years later in 1899, another deep freeze hit the area, again ruining Bratt’s crop of tomatoes.

The Government Lighthouse

After losing his crops from the harsh weather, Bratt began to focus on placing a lighthouse at the tip of Bowditch Point.

Known to locals as “short end,” Bowditch Point is located at the northwest end of Estero Island. The area is named after Nathaniel Bowditch, an American mathematician known for his work on ocean navigation. He has been credited as the founder of modern maritime navigation and in 1902 wrote “The New American Practical Navigator,” a publication still on board every commissioned U. S. Naval vessel.

Bowditch Point was also known as the government lighthouse reservation. Bratt was one of the few homesteaders at Bowditch Point and was active in trying to procure a lighthouse for Fort Myers Beach. Various reports indicate that there is no evidence a lighthouse was ever constructed, the “government may have anticipated a lighthouse at this site.”

Before Bratt could set in motion his plans of securing a lighthouse from the government, he died in August 1899. His 150 acres of land was granted to Ambrose McGregor, an oil tycoon with Rockerfeller and whom McGregor Boulevard is named after. Unfortunately McGregor passed away only 14 months after Bratt, in October 1900.

Bowditch Point Today

Today, Bowditch Point Regional Park is a 17 acre part recreational park and part preserve area. The park features tables and grills, a concession area, restrooms and changing facilities. Visitors and locals enjoy bird watching and photographing the panoramic views of the gulf. Perhaps the only thing missing is a lighthouse steeped in historic lore and tales left behind by its Keepers.

The Proposed Causeway of 1924

The Proposed Causeway of 1924

In the late 1950s when Hugo Lindgren proposed a causeway to link Sanibel to the main land at Punta Rassa, it was met with much opposition from islanders. They expressed their concerns of how a bridge would ruin the tranquil quiet island lifestyle. After much debate and controversy the Causeway opened in May, 1963. It was said by long time residents that Sanibel lost its innocence once the bridge opened. “This place almost died,” proclaimed well-known resident Francis Bailey in 1988 when reflecting about the bridge; but did they know in 1924 a bridge was proposed and islanders were in favor of it?

Captiva’s New Subdivision

In late October 1924, M. C. Williford owned property on Captiva known to be a great fishing spot. The Fort Myers Press reported “This land lies three and one-half miles from Punta Rassa, as the crow flies and a state and county road each cross it. It is high and dry and has good drainage and was untouched by the hurricane of 1921.”

Williford decided to plot his entire tract of 160 acres into 100 lots that would become the Tarpon Bay Subdivision, now known as Tarpon Bay neighborhood. Four avenues ran east and west, and in the middle of the tract a four-acre park complete with “graveled walks, flowery beds, and tropical trees.”

The land was cleared and Davison & Sons began to plot the property which was to be “the finest island subdivisions in Lee county.”

Perhaps Williford knew there was proposed scenic loop that included a bridge to Sanibel and would make his lots an easy sell. Although the paper stated “Island lots are hard to buy; most of the island has been bought up by northern capitalists who are not selling their holdings,” Williford wanted his lots available to the public.

Scenic Loop

In 1924 there was already a bridge connecting the mainland to Crescent Beach (today Fort Myers Beach), with a toll fluctuating around $0.50 to $1.50. Yet there was no bridge to get to the islands; even the ferries that ran across the bay was a fairly new business. News of a Sanibel bridge was not made public until October of 1924, but for months prior it was the topic of conversation around the islands as well as the mainland.

Unlike the resistance to a bridge in the early 1960s, the possibility of a bridge in 1924 was well favored by the islanders.

An article in the Fort Myers Press, on the front page, made the official announcement that a bridge was forthcoming. “Bridge To Sanibel To Be Link In Beautiful Lee County Scenic Loop,” was the headline. “The people of Sanibel Island,” it was reported, “are progressive and the roads on Sanibel are hard surfaced and will put to shame some so-called hard roads on the mainland. They have long desired connection with the mainland by bridge, and soon, no doubt, their desire will be gratified.”

The proposed plans were for a draw bridge that would be similar to the one at Crescent Beach at that time, with the major difference being no toll would be collected.

The scenic loop idea was to “make Fort Myers the most attractive spot in the United States.” The loop would begin in Fort Myers along McGregor Boulevard to Punta Rass where a bridge would link to Sanibel. From Sanibel, cross the bridge to Captiva where another bridge (yet to exist) would go from the island over the bay to Matlacha, then down to Pine Island, then the Edison Bridge going over the Caloosahatchee River which comes back to McGregor Boulevard in Fort Myers.

It was to be “the most beautiful automobile drive in the entire south, and one of the most enchanting in the whole world.”

Bridges Today

Unfortunately the Sanibel Causeway did not come into existence until 1963, some 40 years later, and there is no bridge from Captiva to Matlacha. Although there are no bridges, there are still numerous scenic routes throughout Lee County. With gas prices once again at a low, gather the family, fuel up the car, and take a ride along McGregor, go over to Sanibel and drive out to Captiva. Enjoy the sights, take in the warm weather, and imagine what the scenic route would be like had a bridge been built across the bay from the islands.

The Greatest Fire in Fort Myers

It Was Called The Greatest Fire In Fort Myers

The year was 1903, and the town of Fort Myers had just established a volunteer fire department only two years prior, when on Friday morning of October 16, flames were seen coming out of a building owned by Carl F. Roberts. In addition to battling the fire, the volunteers were up against strong winds and faulty equipment. As the firemen were armed with chemical extinguishers and fighting the blaze at ground level, other citizens were on rooftops beating burning shingles with brooms. Some men battled the inferno so closely that “their flesh was blistered.”

Fighting The Fire
A bucket brigade was formed by women and children, but did little to calm the raging fire that was spreading quickly. The local paper reported how “the entire town was alarmed and the people at once turned themselves into fire fighters – men, boys, women and children, all realized the gravity of the situation and worked heroically to save the town.”

The intensity of the fire and brisk winds was a major difficulty; as was the hook and ladder engine. A faulty valve hampered the efforts of the firemen to get a steady stream of water onto the blaze. Before losing all hope of saving the town, the firefighters succeeded in getting a hand pumper, known as an “Old Andrew Jackson,” working and got the fire under control. As the men grew tired, the women who had gathered in the streets took over. One report was how “Mrs. Alice Tooke saw the Hopson livery stable on fire, pulled off her shoes, climbed to the roof and put out the fire.” Luckily, the wind had also died down.

The Roberts Building, which included an undertaking establishment, a cabinet shop, a Chinese laundry facility, and housed the newly organized Fort Myers Volunteer Fire Department was a total loss. Upstairs was the home of Frank Kellow and his family, and they also lost everything. It was never known what exactly caused the fire, but Roberts stated it was “caused by rats carrying matches into their nests, and lighting one.” Others reasoned it was ignited by a defective flue in the Roberts Building.

Losses to the town and its citizens were: Carl Roberts lost his building, stock, and house; Mrs. M. N. Verner, a building; Col. J. S. Williams, stock; Harvie Heitman, livery stable and two small buildings; Edward Evans, building and stock; Sam Kee, Chinese laundry store; Charles Braman, fruit; C. A. McDougald, wagons and buggies; Captain Robert Lilly, trees and fruit; Frank Carson, fruit; Jas. Hendry, trees; and the town lost telegraph, telephone, and electric service. The total loss was estimated at $7,000 ($165,000 today). Added to the estimate was the value of stock looted during the disastrous event.

The fire department also lost much of their equipment, including hooks, axes, ladders, buckets, and even their truck. Fortunately, the residences of Taff Langford and Charles Braman; the Gilliam Store and Hopson’s Livery Stable only suffered minor damaged from the fire.

From The Bad Comes The Good 
A month later the volunteers held a meeting and elected C. F. Cates as Fire Chief. He easily convinced the city council to purchase a four-cylinder No. 6 Waterous gasoline fire engine and one-thousand feet of 2.5 inch hose. A few years later the department would also earn $10 for each fire extinguished and any member injured in the line of duty would receive $1 to $2 a day, not exceeding ten days.

In less than two weeks after the devastating fire, Roberts built a new barn, carriage house, temporary office, and a laundry building for Sam Kee. He also began construction on a two-story building, in which the bottom half would be used for a new fire station. Heitman and other business owners also rebuilt, and First Street began to thrive once again.

Unfortunately for Roberts, he suffered property loss two more times from fire, April 1907 and April 1910.

Rum Runners Caught Off The Coast of Sanibel

Rum Runners Caught Off The Coast of Sanibel

Prohibition was in effect for over a year and a half when on the evening of August 2, 1921, Sheriff Frank Tippins observed a boat plying between Sanibel and Punta Rassa. On a hunch, he approached the vessel and boarded. Spotting demijohns of liquor, Tippins bargained with the captain and purchased some Cuban rum for $25, then placed him under arrest. “Captain and Crew of Cuban Smack Caught in Big Liquor Raid” was the headline in the morning paper.

Sensational Raid

In what the paper deemed “a sensational raid,” Sheriff Tippins and his son, Deputy Sheriff Frank Tippins, Jr., “arrested the captain and the four members of the crew of a Cuban smack, confiscated three demijohns of liquor and the smack itself, and landed the five men in jail.”

The Tippins had been en route to Sanibel to make an arrest when their suspicions were aroused seeing a Spanish fishing smack. As the elder Tippins began to apprehend the captain, “he became crazed and attacked the sheriff, fighting like a mad man,” reported the paper. “It required a physical argument, in which Sheriff Tippins came out victorious, to convince the captain that he was up against the real thing.”

During the scuffle, Tippins hollered for his son to shoot, but the younger Tippins refrained for fear of injuring his father.

None of the crew spoke English, and the reporter noted their outward show. He wrote he was “struck with the pirate appearance of the crew, barefoot, two of the crew having heads bandaged up and one with a badly discolored eye. They are of the same mold and cast as the pirates in days of old, and human life is as nothing to them.”

The following morning, armed with a search warrant, the sheriff returned to the boat and discovered two more demijohns of liquor and a fourth crew member. He immediately arrested the deckhand and confiscated the remaining liquor.

Legal Matters & Years of Trying

After going through legal procedures in the circuit court, the vessel was to be sold and the money invested in the Fines and Forfeiture Fund used for the prosecution of criminal matters.

The captain of the smack, Antonio Lopez, was found guilty and fined $500 ($6,500 in 2014) for “attempting to bring liquor into the county.” Crew members were fined the same amount.

Three weeks later, Judge George W. Whitehurst released the smack back to the company that owned it. The president of the company convinced the judge that “the captain had only four demijohns of rum aboard and this without the knowledge or consent of the owners.”

Boarding smacks and trying to break up rum runners was not new to Tippins. For several years he attempted to collect evidence and arrest runners, including one time posing as a fisherman offering to trade mullet for Cuban rum, which was met with no success.

Inspections Causing Troubles

An article that appeared on the front page of the paper alongside the news of the Cuban smack being released was, “’Booze Ships’ Stories Cause Many Troubles For Tarry Old Salts.” It reported how the “fisher folk [are] disturbed by ceaseless activity of the rum sleuths,” and all the “official and unofficial” inspections taking place.

Other fishermen said as soon as you drop a hook in the water they whisper, “You’re a rum runner.”

By the time prohibition ended in 1933, Tippins had become a U. S. Marshall and fishermen were again enjoying their trade without any hassle from law enforcement.

It Was Like A Scene From A Movie

It Was Like A Scene From A Movie

In late July 1958, beach goers and visitors witnessed a police chase, a shoot out, a hostage situation, and two Texan desperadoes apprehended. What seemed like a scene right out of a Hollywood blockbuster was all to real for those involved.

Whitsel and Franks

George W. Whitsel, 31, and Alton C. Franks, 25, escaped from Huntsville State Prison, stole a car, and fled to Fort Myers Beach where they kept a low profile hiding out in a motel. Their mistake was speeding through the quiet beach community. As they sped past Deputy Inlo Swope, he ordered them to halt, to which they ignored, but did not know the road they were on circled back and the second time they past Swope, he gave chase.

As Swope gave pursue to the 1958 Oldsmobile with Louisiana plates, the gunman opened fire on him. Swope gave chase going over the wooden bridge onto San Carlos Blvd., returning fire on the armed escapees.

Whitsel, a habitual criminal, was serving a life sentence; Franks was nabbed during a burglary and was serving a 16 year sentence, when the duo escaped.

The escapees and Swope kept exchanging fire as they sped along Beach Road onto McGregor Blvd. The chase turned onto Punta Rassa Road after the criminals hit the guy wire on a pole, spinning their vehicle around. At Cove Road, they stopped and Swope pulled up alongside them. Whitsel, now armed with a .12 gauge shotgun shot off a few rounds, luckily for the deputy, his rolled up window deflected the bullets.

Swope climbed out of his vehicle, emptied his service revolver and another pistol without hitting either fugitive. The two prisoners ran down Thornton Road into a residential area where they brazenly broke into the McCormick home.

Hostages

Bloodhounds led the police to the McCormick residence. David McCormick, and his wife, Jo Ann, who was six months pregnant, were busy painting the interior of their new house when the convicts broke in. The expecting couple were tied up and held at gun point, as police blocked off Thornton Blvd.

Authorities, including all city, state, and county law enforcement officers, FBI, and the fire department quickly surrounded the property. Deputy Nick Kelley approached the house and McCormick came to the door stating everything is all right. Later, Kelley reported “McCormick was white as a sheet and I knew something was wrong.”

Sheriff Flanders Thompson, using a bullhorn commanded “Now hear this! Come out of the house with your hands up! No harm will come to you. You are surrounded.” FBI agent George Gatins suggested using tear gas, but this plan was scrapped for fear that the gas shells might catch the house on fire.

At 2 O’clock as the standoff continued, the paper reported “minutes passed tensely.” Agent Gatins warned them that they had five minutes to come out.

The escapees and their hostages made their way out, slowly to the driveway and got in the McCormicks blue and white Ford. As the car backed out, Jo Ann was heard screaming, “Please, God, don’t shoot! They’ll kill us if you do!”

One of the convicts hollered, “Let us through or we’ll kill them!”

Then an exchange of rapid gun fire ensued. It was reported that “Chief Deputy J. Howard Greer shot the left front tire flat. Answering fire came from Franks, who fired four times with a .22 revolver. Quick as a wink, Dickens opened up on the car with a submachine gun, blasting four neat holes in the windshield. Other officers fired also. Bullets whined past the car and nicked cars on the opposite roadblock but no one was hit except Whitsel. His wound was a superficial arm wound.”

When the gunfire came to a halt, the convicts were ordered to throw out their weapons consisting of a .22 revolver, .32 automatic, and a shotgun. With their hands in the air, they crawled out of the car and layed on the ground where they were frisked and handcuffed.

Aftermath

Jo Ann came out of the car “shaken and white with nervous relief, sobbed, ‘I’m all right. I’m all right.’” David on the other hand had a different mindset, “Shoot both the — of — right now,” he told the authorities.

As one of the escaped prisoners was being placed in the back of the patrol car, he said to David, “tell your wife we’re sorry.”

The McCormicks were taken to the hospital as a precautionary measure and given a sedative to relive their nervous condition. Deputy Swope also had small lacerations from gunshot pellets and flying glass from his windshield.

The police traced the tags on the Oldsmobile the criminals stole to a John T. White of Shreveport, Louisiana. It turned out that the two prisoners had not only stolen the Olds, but the license plate was also stolen, as White did not own an Olds, he owned a Nash to which the plate was registered.

A few days following the shootout, the car driven by Swope was put on display for the public to view. “One bullet remained in the windshield trim and scores of holes are to be seen in the sides of the car and the windows.”

The 1906 Island Murder

The 1906 Island Murder

One hundred and nine years ago, island residents were anxiously waiting for the judgment of Andrew J. Chauncey. With no modern forms of communication, they were forced to wait for the delivery of their weekly newspaper, or listen to opinions and rumors at local hangouts. Regardless of how they followed the outcome of State vs. Chauncey, for the small island, it was a trial of the century for their community.

Chauncey, a 54-year-old unemployed carpenter with a wife and six young girls was on trial for the December 6, 1906, murder of John Barry Bart Daniels. The Lee County community was still recovering from the July 1906 killing of Robert “Bobby” Carson by Jasper Edwards in Fort Myers, but this murder happened on Sanibel, which sometimes seemed a world away from the main land.

The Tragic Death of John B. Daniels

John Daniels was born in Florida in September 1872. On April 6, 1897, he married Lucy Hayes Reed, affectionately known as “Miss Lucy.” Her father was William H. Reed, a sea captain who served in the Navy during the Civil War and a widower who moved his family from Deer Isle, Maine to Sanibel in 1868 when Miss Lucy was all of 16. Her brother, William S. Reed, was postmaster for the island from 1894 to 1938.

In a ceremony performed by George Cooper, Justice of the Peace, the couple exchanged vows at her father’s place, with all of her friends wishing “the change to be one of increased happiness.” The couple had three children: Bertha (1898), William Haskell (1901), and John Barry (1903). Daniels worked as a farmer, than later became a truck driver. Sadly, life on the island would come to a sudden and horrific end for the 34-year-old and his family.

On the afternoon of December 6, 1906, Daniels went to Harry Bailey’s house where Chauncey was doing some work. Daniels invited him to come back to his place for dinner. Although Chauncey was not interested, Daniels insisted. During their travels back to Daniels house, they ran into William Harrison, and the three men shared some whiskey, as Harrison would later testify, “they both seemed to be friendly toward each other, but they were drinking.”

Once back at Daniels place, Chauncey put his shotgun by the barn, and fixed a broken shaft on a wagon wheel. The two men then sat on the front porch when Chauncey claims that he noticed Daniels was getting mad. As Chauncey began to leave, Daniels followed him, insisting he stay for dinner. The two men picked up their pace toward the barn where Chauncey picked up his rifle.

As Chauncey turned, he aimed the gun at Daniels’ chest. According to Chauncey, Daniels said, “You son-of-a-bitch, if you shoot me with that gun I’ll kill you.” To which he replied, “You call me a son-of-a-bitch and I will kill you.” With that he pulled the trigger.

Daniels dropped to the ground just as his wife came running from the house. Standing over his body, Chauncey said, “You see what I can do?” Miss Lucy, the only witness later testified, “I went to Mr. Daniels and raising his head kissed him when Mr. Chauncey reloaded his gun and said, ‘if you say a word I will kill you too.’ Mr. Chauncey made threat to kill me and when I begged him to spare me and started to go to Mr. Harrison’s, our nearest neighbor, he went along with me talking hold of my arm.”

Harrison reported “I heard the report of a gun but thought at the time the gun was in direction of Bayou. In few minutes, Mrs. Daniels came in direction of my house screaming and saying ‘Oh! He has killed my husband.’”

 John B. Daniels died from the gunshot and was buried in the Sanibel Cemetery.

The Court Rules

Immediately, Chauncey turned himself in to Harrison, who took him to Fort Myers and placed him in jail. Coroner Thomas Evans held an inquest, and the following day, along with Dr. Arthur P. Hunter, John I. Sellers, and a jury consisting of S. Smith, G. Willis, A. Rylander, Samuel Pool, Victor Santina, and L. Parker, made their way to the island. Upon viewing the body, they rendered the following verdict:

“That A. J. Chauncey did feloniously [sic] and with malice aforethought shoot and kill said J. B. Daniels with [a] single-barrel breech-loading shot gun, loaded with power and leaden bullets, and we, the jurors, find said A. J. Chauncey guilty of murder in the first degree.”

The coroner’s report was that Chauncey “emptied the entire charge of No. 6 shot into Daniels’ upper left breast, tearing an oblong hole, three inches in its long diameter and two inches in its smaller diameter, and effecting instant death.”

The Thursday, December 13, edition of the newspaper ran the headline: J. B. Daniels Murdered, Sanibel Island the Scene of a Tragedy. The article went into detail on how there was no animosity between the gentlemen, and how Chauncey feared for his life as Daniels became angry.

Two weeks following the death of her husband, Lucy Daniels, put out the following note. “[I] express my heartfelt appreciation and thanks to the friends who so unselfishly came to my assistance, and extended many kindnesses and favors through the ordeal I have passed. I can only say that their goodness has helped me appreciate such friends and neighbors to the fullest extent.”

On March 1, 1907, the trial for Andrew J. Chauncey was held, with the jury retiring at 9 p.m. Chauncey claimed that he “feared Daniels was going to kill him” and he acted in self-defense. His defense council was made up of Louis Hendry, Frank C. Alderman, and John Burton. Attorney Hon. Hurbert S. Phillips represented the State as prosecutor. Jurors, Joel Browning, James Carter, John Owens, Hugh Langford, W. L. Hopson, William Walker, Frank Kellow, James Ford, A. S. Skinner, Earnest Frantz, John Goldsby, and Avery Tyre deliberated for three hours and returned a verdict of manslaughter. Chauncey was sentenced to five years of hard labor in the State Penitentiary. The local headline ran: Chauncey Gets Off With Five Years.

The sentence was immediately appealed and reviewed by the Supreme Court. In June 1907 the court ruled “We have given the evidence our mutual consideration and are of the opinion that it is amply sufficient to support the verdict.” He went on to serve his five-year sentence.

Who Was Andrew J. Chauncey?

Andrew Jackson Chauncey was a Florida native, born in Taylor County on December 18, 1852, son of Jacob and Matilda Martha Jones Chauncey. At the young age of 12, he joined in the Civil War with his father under the State and County Militia known as Detail Scouts.

He stated later when applying for his pension:

I served with and accompanied my father, Jacob Chauncey, throughout the war. I was a small boy when the war started. My father served as detail scout from Waukeenah, Jefferson County, in Leon Madison and Lafayette throughout the war. I drove beef cattle through all these counties to the Thomas butcher pens in Tallahassee, helped butcher [the cattle] and attend [to] the soldiers around the barracks and carried provisions for Capt. Bob Gambles Company. Was at Natural Bridge fight on the St. Marks River, and was with baggage train at Olustee Battle out from Jacksonville. Not with my father under Capt. Scott from Tallahassee when they captured 13 enemy prisoners, and all their boats and other equipment were carried to Tallahassee. Was with State Militia when Bill Strickland and Jack Brannon were shot for desertion at Tallahassee. Toward the end of the year 1864, under my father’s influence and Capt. John Townsend was enrolled in the detail of militia from Waukeenah and also served under Capt. Bob Gamble and Lieut. E. W. Gamble.

Chauncey was honorably discharged in May 1865 and received his pension in July 1931.

After his military service, he married Mary “Molly” Wilson on November 4, 1870, and they had three children: Lenora, Linnie, and Jacob. Mary died in 1880, and he married Mary Jane Peterson on June 14, 1885, and they had eight daughters: Lucile, Lettice, Lena, Luella, Lelorena, Lydia, Lorenzine, and Lasibylla. All the girls lived into adulthood except Lorenzine, who died in infancy.

On March 12, 1911, just three years into his five year sentence, Chauncey received a “conditional pardon” from Governor Albert W. Gilchrist. The pardon read in part:

. . . it was determined that Andrew J. Chauncey, who was convicted in the Circuit Court of Lee County. . . of the offense of manslaughter. . .should now, upon the recommendation of the Circuit Judge who sentenced him, and stated that applicant “had pretty good reasons to beli[e]ve that the man whom he killed was seeking his life,” and that “he is an old man who in all probability has only a few years left to live. . . My judgment is that the ends of justice has been met in his case, and that he should be permitted to spend his remaining years at home. “And it being shown that prior to said homicide had been a good and useful citizen. . .” [He] be granted a conditional pardon, upon the condition that he hereafter lead a sober, peaceable and law-biding life. . . any of the conditions hereof have been violated, may order the said Andrew J. Chauncey arrested by any sheriff or constable and immediately delivered to the State Prison authorities.

Upon release, Chauncey and his family settled in Brevard County, Florida. In 1918, he lost his wife and daughter Lena, and later moved to Miami, where at the age of 79 he died on December, 11, 1932.

Lucy and Family After 1906

Miss Lucy remarried in May 1910, on Sanibel, to Oliver L. Richardson, who worked as a farm laborer. This union would produce two sons: Clyde, born in 1911, and Franklin, born in 1913. She continued to work as a sales person for M. Flossie Hill, a position she held for 31 years, and the family moved to Fort Myers where they resided on Heitman Street. In 1934 their son Franklin, 20, was involved in an auto accident from which he died from his injuries a few days later. Franklin had recently graduated from Fort Myers High School, class of 1932.

Oliver died in August 1942, and Lucy on July 11, 1960. At the time of her passing, she was known as a pioneer of the area and a member of several organizations. She was 83. Both are buried in the Fort Myers Cemetery.

As for Lucy’s children with John B. Daniels, Bertha married David Kite and they had one son, David Jr., and lived in Gainsville. She died at the age of 91 in 1972. William married Adeline, and they resided in Hillsborough where he worked as a shipping clerk for an oil company. He died at the age of 75 in 1976. John B. remained on Sanibel until the 1930s when he moved to Fort Myers, where he died at age 85 in 1988.

Clyde Richardson, Lucy’s first child with Oliver, lived for a short time with his half-sister, Bertha, before moving to Ocala. He worked as an assistant manager for his brother-in-law’s company, Kite’s Transfer. He died at the age of 91 in 2002, never marrying or having children.