When something’s gotta grow, something’s gotta go. That could be Florida’s motto over the last decades, as unparalleled growth has meant the demise of older, historic, formidably individualistic constructions. Sadly, among lost sites are most of the original, classic Florida come-ons, the greasy motor-trip pit-stops politely called roadside attractions, and beloved by so many for their tacky, irresistible charms.
Once prolific along the state’s steamy straight-aways, many of the backyard zoos and private museums were unapologetically modeled after carnival midway shows. Transparent tourist traps all, most have gone the way of mom-and-pop motor courts and neon cafes. This is the era of scrubbed theme parks and mammoth air-conditioned shopping malls. Multi-tiered superhighways bypass all but the most predictable chain restaurants or motels. At today’s high cruising speeds on the interstates, the crude little hand-lettered signs planted for miles leading to the World’s Greatest Reptile Zoo are a blur.
Such so-called dings were the specialties of each locale. The gimmicks were sometimes free offerings, sometimes not, always designed to get you to stop. Once you drove in to see Igor, the Dancing Bear, you could conveniently buy gasoline, a cold drink, a rubber alligator, or at least a handful of postcards to brag to the folks back home what a swell time you were having in the land of the pink flamingo.
Today, many of us are too busy on vacation planning every second to take in all the important sights. It’s harder to justify a spontaneous stop unless an attraction is verified as worthwhile. We want a sure thing. And we’re jaded. A two-headed snake slithering around in a dirty cage behind the stinky gas pumps just doesn’t quite seem exotic anymore.
The following sites may or may not quite be on today’s main roads, may or may not supply a real ding, exactly. Happily, though, for seekers of travel eccentricities, here are some Florida holdouts to the spirit, at least, of the old fashioned roadside attraction.
– Fountain of Youth (11 Magnolia Ave., St. Augustine; 904-829-3168) is enclosed within a dark springhouse where a $4.75 admission charge ($3 for seniors, $1.50 for children 6 to 12) ) entitles you to a 3 1/2-ounce cup of water from the original spring said to have been discovered by Ponce de Leon in 1513. Historical nit-pickers might complain that the Spanish explorer actually failed to find a Fountain of Youth. But then no claims are made for this drink to replace cosmetic surgery.
Nevertheless, the historical significance of this place is twofold.
The Spanish landing marked Florida’s discovery and the claiming of North America by the Spanish Crown. Second, this place is about as irresistibly tacky as it gets. You will not want to miss a lighted two-story, spinning globe proudly mapping “the first 100 years of Spanish New World conquest–all in seven minutes!” Scores bonus points on my cheese meter for an inexplicable planetarium show.
– Noell’s Ark Chimp Farm (Alternate U.S. Highway 19, Tarpon Springs; 813-937-8683). This is a genuine roadside zoo and one of the last tiny ones you’re likely to find. The elderly, white-haired owner asked that I refer to it as “a retirement home for aging primates.”
It’s been here since the 1940s, when you could pay 9 cents to see a monkey walk across the keys of a piano. Today’s $3 admission charge is still a bargain. It entitles you to see a gorilla, several monkeys and an elderly show biz veteran performing bear.
There are usually other footlight vets in residence at the Chimp Farm. They’ve all outlived the applause. Some are crippled or amputees, others ill, or simply old, including an arthritic gorilla, a one-eyed chimp and a gray-whiskered orangutan that once played in a Las Vegas revue. The facility is not deluxe. But these old timers are cared for and allowed to live out their years here. I like to think of it as a microcosm of a considerate, lower income, model Florida retirement community.
– Sponge-O-Rama (510 Dodecanese Blvd., Tarpon Springs; 813-943-9509). This is the place you’ve been looking for to learn all about sponges. I promise. Nearby you can visit the sponge boat docks, eat Greek food, sip ouzo and wax rhapsodic with local old timers about the good times before the synthetic sponge. Don’t miss a 15-minute film about a dramatic sponge hunt. The film and exhibits at an adjacent Sponge Museum are free. Displays celebrate the Greek divers who settled here to ply the sponge depths.
– Everglades Wonder Gardens (Old U.S. Highway 41, Bonita Springs; 941-992-2591) has been at the same location for about 60 years. It is home to a 1,000-pound crocodile, otters, raccoons, a panther, several deer and a variety of semitropical vegetation. Old U.S. 41 was once a busy tourist highway, and this site was actually once part of the Everglades, though that was a while ago. Today the Wonder Gardens smell a lot like a parking lot. The site is being elbowed for space by used car lots and convenience stores. The Everglades have been pushed miles away by development. But this small, compromised oasis is still here. A $9 tour ($5 for children 5 to 12) gives a brief natural history lesson on wildlife that is virtually extinct in Florida.
– Coral Castle (28655 S. Federal Highway, Homestead; 305-248-6344 for a recording with directions, or 305-248-6345 to speak to a person). Tucked behind a high stone wall are numerous hand-sculpted coral rock tables, chairs, beds, as well as huge models of the sun, moon and planets. Tour guides recite a preposterous story about the mysterious 95-pound man who built the place, working alone, and only at night, for more than 30 years. It costs a steep $7.75 ($5 for children 6 to 12, $6.50 for seniors) to listen to the corny spiel about the lost love of his life, known only as Sweet Sixteen, and how he devoted his life’s work to creating this weird monument to her.
No small part of the weirdness is that no one admits to knowing quite how anyone could have lifted and shaped the mammoth rocks here. They are substantial. Some weigh up to 30 tons. Coral Castle is as close as you are likely to find to a Florida version of the Great Pyramids, or Stonehenge, or Fred Flintstone’s Bedrock.
– And there are more. There are at least a half-dozen gator farms scattered around the state where you pay good money to watch the bruisers loll in muddy pens. There’s an alligator wrestling show at St. Augustine’s Alligator Farm (904-824-3337). A Gatorland Zoo (407-855-5496) and a Reptile World (407-892-6905) beckon visitors in Kissimmee, a stone’s throw from Florida’s ultimate roadside attraction, the world of Disney in Orlando. Thanks to Mickey Mouse, you could probably classify just about all of central Florida as a roadside attraction, but that’s another story.
And let’s not forget the cheesy wax museums in St. Augustine and St. Petersburg, an Elvis Museum in Orlando and Don Garlits’ Museum of Drag Racing in Ocala. St. Petersburg is also home to the irresistible Shuffleboard Hall of Fame. It’s housed in a little trailer beside a shuffleboard club. There’s hardly a club member under 80. Try not to shock anyone into cardiac arrest with your interest. Farther south, ultra-commercial jungles in ultra-urban Miami house a variety of exotic flora and fauna such as orchids, parrots, monkeys or snakes. Despite a wonderful live flock of pink flamingos and a skilled parrot on roller skates, none of the snakes has two heads, I’m afraid.
But rest assured, aficionados of all that reeks of tacky, each of these venues includes the prerequisite overpriced gift shop. Yes, you can commemorate your historic visit with an embossed shot glass, a plastic backscratcher, an ill-fitting straw hat or an ugly T-shirt.
