A Brief History of Safety Harbor, Florida

INTRODUCTION

At just five square miles, the city of Safety Harbor might seem to be a curious choice for the subject of a full-length history book. Yet despite its limited size, Safety Harbor can boast a robust, vibrant past. For more than five hundred years, due to easy access to the waters of Tampa Bay and its plentiful sea life, the Tocobaga people lived along its shores, from where they eventually became the dominant power of the region. In the sixteenth century, Spanish explorers and missionaries arrived in the area, seeking riches and a safe haven for the transport of goods from Mexico and to introduce the indigenous population to Christianity.

Later, in the mid-nineteenth century, Safety Harbor’s strategic location and fertile farmland attracted pioneers seeking a new life. One of those early settlers, Odet Philippe, was greatly responsible for the development of Florida’s citrus industry, planting groves of oranges and lemons on the land that once housed the Tocobaga village, while sharing his knowledge with his new neighbors. The natural mineral springs drew visitors to bathe in their restorative waters, and at the turn of the twentieth century, a pavilion and swimming tank were constructed that were eventually transformed into the world-famous Safety Harbor Resort and Spa, enjoyed by wealthy industrialists, socialites, and professional athletes for decades.

Pinellas County hangs down off the middle of Florida’s west coast like a crooked thumb, serving as the natural barrier between Tampa Bay on the east and the Gulf of Mexico on the west. Known for its year-round temperate weather, white sand beaches and abundant bird life, Pinellas County is also the most densely populated county in Florida, surpassing even Miami’s Dade County.

Map depicting the location of Safety Harbor in relation to the state of Florida and Pinellas County. Drawing by Ari Kepner.

The city of Safety Harbor is situated along the eastern edge of this peninsula, on the western bank of Old Tampa Bay, advantageously positioned between the major commercial centers of the region. Twenty miles east, across the Courtney Campbell Causeway, is Tampa, nicknamed the Cigar City, and the same distance south lies St. Petersburg, the Sunshine City. Ten miles west is downtown Clearwater and its famous beaches, while Tarpon Springs, the Sponge City, sits approximately fifteen miles to the north.

Safety Harbor is not without its own sobriquet, either, once widely known as the Health Giving City, where the healing waters flow. The city has long been defined by its natural mineral springs, which some believe were first discovered by Hernando de Soto and thought by him to be the elusive and mythical Fountain of Youth.

During the first half of the twentieth century, the city straddled the dissimilar worlds of pioneer Florida and the new era that was marked by development and technological advancement, as reflected in an article appearing in the Safety Harbor Herald on February 5, 1926:

Picture if you can this city yesterday—it was but yesterday that Safety Harbor was a sleepy cross-roads village, slumbering in the everlasting sunshine at the intersection of two winding sand roads. A few wooden buildings sufficed to house the scant population and the few stores necessary to serve their needs. The streets were mere paths, often overgrown with weeds and rank tropical growth. In attractions for the stranger there were none and the whisperings of the waters of Old Tampa Bay on the white sands of the beach carried its alluring message only to the ears of the few idlers forever basking in the sun around the village shores. This was but yesterday—a few short years ago and today a miracle of progress greets the eye. Tall, modern apartments, pavilion, sanitarium, hotels and bright shiny shops now mark the intersection of the sand roads, now changed as if by the wand of a fairy to wide smooth boulevards. This is a glimpse of today. Tomorrow—the day of mystery to him who cannot see—cannot envision in his mind the changes which the future may bring to pass. But to him of the open mind and imagination of things to come, tomorrow holds no mysteries. For here is a city in the making, as yet young, scarcely out of the swaddling clothes of infancy, yet with the tangible evidence before the eyes that today the future holds as much as did the future of yesterday. The day of opportunity in Safety Harbor has just begun.

Estimated to be between three hundred and five hundred years old, the Baranoff Oak is believed to be the oldest live oak tree in Pinellas County and serves as a visible landmark near the Safety Harbor Public Library. Photo by Terrie Thomas.

From the Safety Harbor Pier, visitors can enjoy views of Old Tampa Bay and possibly catch a glimpse of manatees, stingrays and dolphins. Photo by Terrie Thomas.

That day of opportunity described by Herald editor A.E. Shower did come, bringing with it modern subdivisions and the creation of a library, a historical museum and an extensive system of parks and recreation facilities. Today, the city is known for its abundance of festivals and the collection of artists, musicians, writers and poets who call it their home—an oasis of calm within bustling Pinellas County.

More than anything else, though, Safety Harbor is marked by the ubiquitous spirit of community that has existed since the settlement’s beginnings. In 1966, Gladys Ganley, a longtime resident and descendant of the regional pioneers, wrote of those early days: A spirit of good will and fellowship pervaded the entire community. Anyone suffering a sickness or a disaster was cheerfully helped by all the neighbors. A feeling of comradeship among the early settlers, exists among their descendants to this day. Nearly fifty years later, it still does.

In the pages that follow, we hope to provide a glimpse into the history and energy that infuse this special city on the edge of Tampa Bay. We have attempted to present the fullest account possible and to depict life as it existed during each stage of the city’s rich past, but there is undoubtedly much more to tell. We invite you to visit our web site, www.historyofsafetyharbor.com, to record your personal memories and stories of your experiences in Safety Harbor for others to enjoy.

BEFORE THE FIRST SETTLERS

Chapter 1

WAS HE OR WASN’T HE?

THE ENDURING MYTH OF HERNANDO DE SOTO AND THE ESPIRITU SANTO SPRINGS

On May 18, 1539, Spanish explorer Hernando De Soto reached the shores of what is now Tampa Bay, landing near these mineral springs used by the native population for nearly 10,000 years. Believing he had found the legendary Fountain of Youth somehow missed by Ponce de León, De Soto established a camp here, naming the crystal clear waters Espiritu Santo Springs—Springs of the Holy Spirit.

—excerpt from a historical marker in front of the Safety Harbor Resort and Spa

According to local lore, in May 1539, approximately one week after setting sail from Cuba, famed Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto entered Tampa Bay at the start of his historic expedition to explore the land then known simply as La Florida. In honor of the holy day of Pentecost Sunday, he named the body of water Bahia Espiritu Santo—the Bay of the Holy Spirit. There, in what is now Safety Harbor, de Soto and his men discovered five mineral springs gushing from the sand, springs that were believed by the indigenous inhabitants of the nearby village of Ucita to hold special healing properties and were perhaps even the mythical Fountain of Youth that was so eagerly (and unsuccessfully) sought by de Soto’s countryman Ponce de León.

It was a startling beginning to de Soto’s journey, hinting at the riches that he would surely find during the coming months and years. Yet de Soto could hardly have suspected what was ahead: that his expedition would roam aimlessly through what is now the southeastern United States, eventually climaxing with the discovery of the Rio Grande de la Florida—the Mississippi River—along whose banks de Soto would die almost exactly three years later without finding the wealth that had lured him there.

A historical marker in front of the Safety Harbor Resort and Spa describes the alleged visit by Hernando de Soto in 1539. Photo by Warren Firschein.

Despite the ultimate failure of de Soto’s expedition, Safety Harbor’s historical legacy had been firmly established as the location of de Soto’s initial landing point and the site of the first indigenous settlement encountered by his party. The legend of de Soto’s arrival and discovery of the city’s natural springs, identified by him as the Fountain of Youth, endures to this day. The city has long seized upon and promoted this past. During the 1930s, for example, a physical depiction of de Soto dramatically pointed the way to Safety Harbor from atop a nearby road sign. Today, a historical marker erected on the grounds of the Safety Harbor Resort and Spa describes his visit to the area.

But just how much of this story is true? As it turns out, not much.

THE EXPEDITION OF HERNANDO DE SOTO

This is what is known:

Portrait of Hernando de Soto (circa 1497–1542) from 1791. Courtesy of Library of Congress.

In 1537, after returning home from an expedition to conquer Peru, Hernando de Soto was commissioned by King Charles V of Spain to explore the land known as La Florida. De Soto’s primary mission was to conquer, pacify and settle a large section of Florida’s coast and establish a colony to serve as a supply port for Spanish ships operating in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. De Soto’s charter specifically required that he bring with him five hundred men and that he construct three stone forts using his own funds in the process. Based on the fabulous wealth found in Central and South America by other Spanish expeditions, he was also intent on searching for gold and precious jewels, for he was entitled to retain a share of the colony’s profits in addition to receiving titles and lands for his efforts. An ancillary goal was to help Spain establish a protected overland route between the Gulf and the Atlantic coast to transport goods from Mexico. At that time, the only method for shipping cargo from Mexico was by sea, which had proven dangerous. Already a number of Spanish ships had been lost in the waters off Florida, and it was believed that such a route from Mexico would be safer.

De Soto was not the first Spanish explorer to pass through the region; approximately ten years earlier, Pánfilo de Narváez had landed near Tampa Bay, reputedly at present-day St. Petersburg, and led a party of roughly three hundred men north through the interior of Florida. That earlier expedition was a disaster, however, ultimately claiming the lives of Narváez and all but four of his men. About a year later, a rescue party searching for Narváez sailed into the bay. Several soldiers from this rescue party were captured by members of the local indigenous population, and as it turned out, one survived.

Such was the backdrop when, on or around May 18, 1539, de Soto set sail for Florida from Havana, Cuba. Determined not to make the same mistakes as Narváez, de Soto had sought the counsel of Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, one of the few survivors of that catastrophic expedition. From Cabeza de Vaca, de Soto had learned of some of the challenges to be faced in the Florida interior. Based on this insight, he brought along with him several times the number of Narváez’s group, estimated between six hundred and one thousand people in total.

De Soto’s expedition was almost a city in itself. It included more than just soldiers: there were nobility and relatives of de Soto, tradesmen and merchants, as well as apprentices, pages, servants and slaves. Women were used as servants, and Africans served as bodyguards for the Spanish nobility. Priests and friars were included, too, both for the spiritual well-being of the expedition and to convert the indigenous people to Christianity. In addition, they had with them various types of animals, including horses, mules and war dogs. Because Cabeza de Vaca had reported how the Narváez expedition had struggled to find food, de Soto also brought pigs—some of which would later escape to form the wild hog population that still plagues parts of the southeastern United States. It took five large vessels and four smaller ones to transport them all.

The expedition sailed north for approximately a week—the exact number of days remains in doubt—before finding a suitable place to disembark. Upon landing, de Soto soon reached an American Indian village called Ucita, where he established a small fortified compound that served as his first North American headquarters. Nearby, he discovered a Spaniard named Juan Ortiz, who explained that he was a member of the party that had set out to rescue Narváez years earlier. Ortiz told de Soto that he had been enslaved in the area ever since his capture. De Soto stayed at his compound near Ucita for about six weeks before he moved north, leaving behind a few soldiers at the garrison.

CONTROVERSY OVER DE SOTO’S LANDING POINT

Over the years, historians and archaeologists have conducted an astonishing amount of scholarly research in an effort to identify de Soto’s initial landing point and the location of the village of Ucita. In Safety Harbor, local legend insists that Ucita was the name given to the Tocobaga settlement whose ruins can be found today in the city’s Philippe Park. At one time, this claim had widespread support. For example, in a seminal 1929 text on the history of Pinellas County, William Straub, former editor of the St. Petersburg Times, described Safety Harbor as "the recognized landing place of De Soto, who with his brave crew and embued [sic] with the spirit of chivalry, the spirit of discovery and the hopes of all Spain, sailed into the beautiful land-locked bay one bright Sunday morning back in May, 1539." In a 1938 article published in the Florida Historical Quarterly, Mark F. Boyd persuasively argued that the Tocobaga village in Philippe Park best fit descriptions of Ucita and the topography of the immediate region that had been made by members of the de Soto expedition.

But no tangible evidence supports this claim. Because of the large number of people on the expedition and the length of their stay at their compound, logic suggests that some physical record of their presence should still exist, even after nearly half a millennium. Although a limited number of Spanish artifacts have been discovered during archaeological excavations in Philippe Park, based on what has been unearthed, it is simply not credible that up to one thousand Europeans camped there for approximately six weeks’ time. This, by itself, does not eliminate Safety Harbor as de Soto’s possible landing point, for no archaeological evidence has been uncovered anywhere that would unambiguously identify the location of de Soto’s initial headquarters and the village of Ucita.

With the absence of physical evidence, historians have studied surviving documents for clues. Four different participants in the de Soto expedition later produced written accounts of the journey that are known today. In addition, de Soto himself penned a long letter from his first encampment that describes the village of Ucita. Unfortunately, these sources provide limited detail and often conflict with one another on basic information such as distance, time and direction, making it truly impossible to determine the expedition’s exact route and location at any given time.

Using what little can be gleaned from those reports, such as descriptions of the landscape and geography of the surrounding area, researchers over the years have suggested a number of different locations along the southwestern coast of Florida that they consider the most likely possible sites of the first encampment and the village of Ucita. These include Terra Ceia Island on the southeast side of Tampa Bay in Manatee County; Charlotte Harbor, near modern-day Fort Myers; and the mouth of the Little Manatee River, near Ruskin. Each has its supporters and