The summers of days gone by

Hailey Heseltine
ECB Publishing, Inc.

As we reach the end of July, we are truly in the peak of summer. Some of us enjoy the hot Florida summers; others do not. Regardless of our own opinions on the season, it is undeniable that there is something unique about summers here. They are long and languorous; the hum of cicadas is our constant backtrack as unpredictable afternoon storms sweep through, leaving as soon as they arrived, and a quick glance into the shadows at night reveals countless fireflies, whose glows brighten and ebb like distant shooting stars.
The summers we experience today are not so different than the ones of long lost days. Residents of Jefferson County have witnessed summer after summer just like ours for centuries. How could we possibly number the people who have stared up at the sky on a warm July night on this very land, just as we do?
Perhaps much of the lives of former residents is a mystery, but they are not as distant as we think. Long ago, they experienced the same summers we do today, and with this knowledge, we can gaze into the summers of days gone by.
By the late 19th century, Monticello was thriving. It was one of the top watermelon seed producers in the entire nation, which is why we hold watermelon festivals locally today. Other staple crops, such as cotton, tobacco and pecans, marked Jefferson County as a force to be reckoned with in the agricultural world. During the summer months, this work certainly never slowed. The harvest of tobacco, cotton and watermelon all ranged from spring to late summer—the staple crops were more important than ever at this time. Residents were hard at work, even on grueling sunny days.
Though summers were a little cooler back then, it may be difficult to imagine how residents endured the brutal heat of Florida in a time before the invention of air conditioning. But an emphasis on ventilation was everywhere—even in the design of houses, yards and clothing. For instance, houses were most often built with a long hallway as an entry, usually accompanied by a staircase if the house was multiple stories. This hallway would have one doorway for entry and another straight across at the back of the house so that both doors could be left open, and fresh, cool breezes could sweep right through the hallways, providing some relief to its occupants. Besides, windows would be kept open at night and morning to allow cool air flow, then closed during the day to trap that cool air. That may seem hazardous—we all know well the insufferable number of mosquitos and other biting insects that roam the night—but mosquito netting was often installed on beds to help keep the insects at bay when windows were open.
Even in the outdoors, Florida residents were clever about providing themselves with places to escape the heat. Southern homes were often built with large, wrap-around porches that provided shade from the sun and easy access to breezy air. Trees were strategically placed to maximize the cool shade as well, so that even away from home, residents could still find places to escape the sun.
Though clothes back in the day seem as if they must have been miserable to wear in summer—think of all the layers!—looks can be deceiving. People often carried fans and parasols, and clothing was made of breathable, natural materials. Much of what we wear today is made of synthetic materials, which often trap undesired heat and make us sweat much faster than natural materials do. Cotton, which Jefferson County was a major producer of, is especially helpful when it comes to people staying cool and dry. Slightly looser-fitting clothes—think of the trousers and sleeves—also allowed for better air flow.
Of course, none of these things were perfect solutions. Luckily for Jefferson County residents, our county is home to countless natural springs, streams, ponds, lakes and rivers. People back then loved to swim just as much we do today. Morris Mill Pond, pictured, was an especially beloved location for swimming and picnics in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Tourism in Monticello was especially prevalent in winter, as northerners would travel to the south to escape the harsh winters, but summer offered good opportunities for tourists, too. Visitors would come by train or travel the unpaved roads of dirt and clay to enjoy the many commodities Jefferson County had to offer. They could stay in one of our several fine hotels, such as the Dixie Hotel and the St. Elmo's Hotel, both of which are unfortunately no longer standing. Visitors would often marvel at the privilege of hunting the “exotic” animals of Florida, such as alligators and wild hogs. Perhaps it seemed normal to residents, but for guests, it was truly a sight to behold! Of course, fishing, too, was just as popular then as it is today—if not more so!
There were other places around town where residents could be entertained and beat the heat at the same time. Perkins Opera House held regular performances; it was quite the marvel, one of the finest opera houses around. People would even travel from afar to enjoy entertainment there. In the early 20th century, there was also a movie theater—a place for Monticello residents to enjoy the exciting new invention of motion pictures. Little cafes and fine dining alike served as social epicenters. There was also the simple, quiet enjoyment of just spending evenings on the porch, taking in the night breeze and watching the fireflies—just as many of us do today.
Though many things have changed since then, many of our core desires, struggles and joys are still shared with those who are long gone. Monticello is especially unique in this regard, because in a historical community like ours, we have the opportunity to visit many of the same locations, whether natural or man-made. Next time you look up at the stars, see a performance at the local opera house, circle the courthouse, seek out a shady tree or porch or get caught in an afternoon thunderstorm, take a moment to reflect. Reflect on how what you are doing is not so different than it was for people centuries ago. The experience of our summers here is more uniting than we may realize—not just amongst our community today, but also between the communities of past and present alike.