A Village Tragedy

This cemetery is located on the southwest corner of Woolbright Road and Seacrest Blvd. The red X indicates the approximate location of Albert P. Bowens marker.

This cemetery is located on the southwest corner of Woolbright Road and Seacrest Blvd. The red X indicates the approximate location of Albert P. Bowens marker.

Boynton Memorial Park and Mausoleum, Ca. 2013.

Boynton Memorial Park and Mausoleum, Ca. 2013.

For nearly 20 years, I lived almost directly across the street from Boynton Memorial Park and Mausoleum, commonly called the Boynton Cemetery. The cemetery is the resting place for a number of my family members. I visit there fairly often, and find myself drawn to the old section.

Due to my ties to the community, the Boynton Beach Historical Society, and my propensity for historical research, many of the old family names greet me like old friends.

 

 

 

At some point, I found myself especially drawn to a rather lovely marker engraved with the name Albert J. Bowen. The dates on the monument indicate Bowen was born in 1865 and died in 1903. It dawned on me that his may be the earliest recorded death in this cemetery. Sure enough, according to Palm Beach County genealogist Marjorie Watts Nelson, Albert Bowen’s 1903 tombstone is the earliest legible marker in the cemetery.

When I realized this Boynton pioneer had lived less than 38 full years, I couldn’t help but wonder who this man had been and why his life had been cut short. What I found shocked and rocked me to the core! Poor Mr. Bowen suffered from a poisoning, a lethal poisoning!

Born in Ontario, Canada, in 1865 to Thomas Bowen and Tabitha Filmore Bowen, Albert J. was the fourth of six children, all boys. In 1878, the family immigrated to northern Michigan, where Albert J. Bowen and several of his brothers worked on the river as log drivers.

1900 Census Record

1900 Census Record

When he was 26 years old, Albert married Flora B. Ackley, then age 16, in Sheridan, Michigan. Flora was the daughter of George W. Ackley and Lucy Hall.

The family moved to Florida sometime in late 1900 or early 1901. How they ended up in Boynton remains a mystery. It is possible they heard about the farming opportunities in the Boynton area through Major Boynton’s Michigan Home Colonization project or they heard about the area from friends or relatives. As did many young families in Boynton at the time, the Bowen’s and their little daughters, Rosa (born around 1893) and Ruth (born about 1897) boarded at a rooming house. In this case, Flora Bowen helped with the housekeeping at the Freedlund House, operated by Joseph Freedlund. Albert worked as a truck farmer, planting fruits and vegetables for export to northern markets via Henry Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway. I can only imagine how hard both worked in the tropical frontier without the comforts afforded by our generations. Still, perhaps to them this was paradise, a land of romance…

Their idyllic Florida dream came to a choking halt when Albert, only 37, met an untimely death from ingesting poison. The August 22, 1903 issue of Guy Metcalf’s newspaper, the Tropical Sun, bore the headline “Took Strychnine and Died in Agony: Tragic End of A.J. Bowen, of Boynton.”

died in agony

Took Strytocide and died in agonyAccording to the news article, Albert Bowen had worked hard all day in the fields, planting pineapple slips and came home tired and achy. He took some medicine and what he thought was quinine. Shortly after supper, he retired to his bedroom. Another boarder heard a disturbance and upon investigation found Bowen writhing in agony, screaming and convulsing. Joseph Freedlund went to West Palm Beach on the first train out and summoned Dr. Merrill, who rode back in a carriage driven by Richard Gardner, only to find Bowen’s soul had long left his body. His heart-broken wife and neighbors said Bowen made a mistake and took strychnine instead of quinine.

After the tragedy, Flora and the children, who were only nine and sixteen years old, must have left town. Losing Albert and staying in Boynton likely was too much to bear. The 1910 census shows Flora, Rosa and Ruth living with relatives in Pennsylvania. In 1917, 40 year-old Flora (occupation listed as dressmaker) married Ivan E. Smith, four years her junior, in Flint, Michigan. By then Flora and Alberts’ daughters would be grown women, probably with families of their own.

1917 Marriage Record - Flora Bowen and Ivan Smith

1917 Marriage Record – Flora Bowen and Ivan Smith

Albert Bowen’s headstone is engraved with the following words: “To Live in Hearts We Leave Behind is Not to Die.” At first I wondered why I was drawn to this marker and was compelled to research Albert Bowen 110 years after his death. I needed to tell his story, to make sure he is not forgotten.

-Rest in Peace A.J. Bowen-

Albert P. Bowen - 1865-1903

Albert P. Bowen – 1865-1903

Unity and Patriotism

This 911 tribute is written by guest blogger Michael Landress of the Boynton Beach Fire Department.

911 Tribute

911 Tribute

September 11, 2001 happened to fall on “B” shift for the men and women of the Boynton Beach Fire Rescue Department. I was working as the lead paramedic on Rescue No. 2 along with firefighter 3, Randy Jute and probationary firefighter, Adam Turey.
Our normal morning activities of inventorying supplies, checking vehicles, cleaning the station and perpetuating firehouse gossip was abruptly halted by a barrage of horrific images coming from national television broadcasts. We focused on the small TV in the kitchen to witness the top portion of the north tower of the World Trade Center being enveloped in thick, black smoke.
The smoke was billowing uncontrollably from a gaping hole in the building and initial reports were unclear. However, I vividly recall reporters stating this may have been accidental.  “A small plane has just struck the north tower of the World Trade Center . . . more details to follow,” one of them muttered.
It was painfully obvious this was no accident as United Airlines Flight No. 175 slammed into the south tower in an exploding orange ball of fire and falling debris. The plane literally disintegrated into the building killing everyone on board instantly. Terrorists had planned and executed an affliction on American soil like no other time in modern history with perhaps the exception of Pearl Harbor.
As Randy, Adam and I discussed our own strategies for combating such a blaze, the north tower began to buckle and crumble. This magnificent structure, now insulted by fire, collapsed in a huge cloud of dust that blanketed the streets of Lower Manhattan — forever shattering our sense of security.  We realized that it was just a matter of time until the south tower would succumb to the same intense heat radiating from the burning jet fuel. It too, would finally collapse under its own great weight. It was surreal watching this calamity unfold on live television.
My wife called the fire station — her voice cracking with fear as the twin towers disappeared from the New York City skyline. I desperately tried to calm her fears, while coping with my own.  Our reality then set in when the station alarm sounded, summoning us to the first of many emergencies we would handle on this day. My emotions remained mixed throughout the arduous twenty-four hour shift. I was experiencing feelings of anger, grief, helplessness, but above all, I had feeling of unity and patriotism.
Everyone we encountered, including patients, nurses, ER physicians and the notoriously cranky trauma surgeons offered support for what we were doing — simply our jobs. I’ve always been enamored with this profession, but never have I been so proud to have worked as a firefighter/paramedic as I did on September 11, 2001.

On the first anniversary of September 11th, I was invited to speak to a group of young people regarding the events of that day. I chose words of celebration, not of despair. I reflected on the newfound sense of unity and patriotism I had experienced.
Perhaps I am naïve, but I felt as though, albeit brief, that everyone in the country, regardless of race, color or creed, seemingly became one. We were all touched by this tragedy — not for the color of our skin, nor our political affiliation or religious beliefs, but simply because we are Americans.
Who can forget the bipartisan, campy rendition of “God Bless America” sung by members of Congress on the steps of Capitol Hill? Yes, it’s true, some sang like squeaking hinges, but it was good to see cooperation and unity from our leadership.
It’s troublesome to think it takes this type of cataclysm for the people of this great country to come together as one nation.
I will always hold the 343 New York City firefighters, the paramedics and emergency medical technicians, the police officers, the port authority personnel, our military and civilians who were murdered on that clear September morning in the highest regard.

Michael Landress

Michael Landress

Michael Landress is a native Floridian and novice historian. He has spent the previous 15 years as a professional firefighter/paramedic for the City of Boynton Beach Fire Rescue Department. He holds a BA from St. Thomas University in Miami, Florida and his hobbies include; spending time with his two teenage sons, writing, photography, supporting the Miami Dolphins and saltwater fishing.

No hurly-burly in Boynton!

As I was watching television this morning, a reporter was describing the village of Bucklebury, where the royal baby is, as being away from the “hurly-burly” of London. To my mind immediately came an old advertisement for the Boynton Hotel, which said that the Boynton Hotel was “away from the hurly-burly of large, fashionable hotels.”

Boynton Hotel ad from 1899

Boynton Hotel ad from 1899

So who could have written the ad with the somewhat British expression? It very well could have been Albert Edward Parker, who managed the hotel for many years. He was Major Nathan S. Boynton’s son-in-law, married to his daughter Anna. The only known picture of them was taken at the Boynton Woman’s Club dedication in 1932. Parker was a native of England, born in 1873 who emigrated to America in 1886.

A.E. Parker also has a special spot in Palm Beach County’s history as the first naturalized citizen, sworn in on the day that Palm Beach County became official, July 1, 1909. Parker managed the hotel until the early 1920s, and also had the first dairy in Boynton, the Bertana farm, which was a combination of his first name and Anna’s. He went by the name “Bert” among his friends.

Albert and Anna Parker, 1932

Albert and Anna Parker, 1932

He went on to become West Palm Beach’s city manager, and eventually sold real estate in Palm Beach. He built a beautiful Mediterranean-revival house on Flagler Drive (recently renovated). Albert passed away in 1935; he and Anna are interred at Woodlawn Cemetery in West Palm Beach.

Parker Gravesite

Parker Gravesite

Boynton’s Egg Circle

You can purchase farm fresh eggs in western Boynton Beach. Heritage Hen Farms (hidden behind the Publix Supermarket on Haverhill Road, west of Military Trail and south of Le Chalet Blvd) offers freshly laid chicken eggs, honey and goat milk.

Heritage Hen Farm

Heritage Hen Farm

During the 1920s, 30s and 40s, the farm was the site of Oscar Winchester’s “Flatwoods” pineapple plantation. Mr. Winchester was widely known as the “Pineapple King.”

HOME

If you have enough money, you can buy a mini-hen farm from the 2012 Neiman Marcus Fantasy Christmas Catalog for “just a drop in the bucket” – $100,000.

Neiman Marcus 2012 Fantasy Christmas Catalog Mini-Hen Farm

Neiman Marcus 2012 Fantasy Christmas Catalog Mini-Hen Farm

There’s one catch; cultivation of chickens and other farm animals are prohibited within the Boynton Beach city limits.

Not to ruffle any feathers, but that wasn’t always the case. Boynton once boasted a very successful Egg Circle.

In 1921, shortly after the town’s incorporation, a flock of Boynton Women organized a co-op for cultivating and marketing home-grown eggs.

Lake Worth Herald, Dec. 1 1921

Lake Worth Herald, Dec. 1 1921

Led by president Mrs. I.R. Funk, and Manager, Mrs. H.P. Smith, seven Boynton entrepreneurs went into business.

The Egg Circle presented an educational exhibit and promoted their egg circle production at the annual Palm Beach County Fair. (Note: George Graham Currie founded the Palm Beach County Fair in 1912)

Nearly 650 dozen eggs sold during the winter season. Because they didn’t put all their eggs in one basket, the women were able to sock away a nice little nest egg.

The Surveyor – Part 1

The year is 1871, and one of the most important surveyors in Florida history has a new contract from the Federal government, to survey all the land between Miami and St. Lucie

Marcellus A. Williams

Marcellus A. Williams

– that last frontier of America called South Florida. Marcellus A. Williams was born in North Carolina in 1818, and lived with his wife and nine children on Amelia Island. This story is so good that I’m going to write it as a “serial” story over the next few weeks, so that you will read glimpses from some of the first people who set eyes on this unspoiled paradise.
Stay Tuned!

Marcellus Williams' house on Amelia Island in the Fernandina Beach Historic District. Courtesy Florida Memory.

Marcellus Williams’ house on Amelia Island in the Fernandina Beach Historic District. Courtesy Florida Memory.

1912 Death Certificate - Marcellus Williams

1912 Death Certificate – Marcellus Williams