Daily Archives: March 6, 2009
For old times sake…
As I mentioned earlier my parents and I moved down here to Gulf Shores in January 1951 to build a motel on the beach.
My father was a police detective with the Birmingham Police Department and mother was a Public Health nurse with Jefferson County. They had discovered Gulf Shores after flying their plane down here for a weekend.
They sold their house in Birmingham and borrowed from my father’s mother. They had 6 cottages ready to go in time for the 1951 summer season which then lasted only 3 months, June, July, and August.
Me and My Dad - January 1951
This is my father and me right after we moved here.
White's-by-the-Sea
They called the motel “White’s-by-the-Sea”. Original, huh? Note the cowboy suit. It was my favorite.
David Duddy and me
This is a shot of my best friend David Duddy and me with some of the cottages in the background. Probably the summer of 1954. The cottages were very nice for the time with 2 bedrooms, 1 bath, kitchen, dining area, and living room. There was also a porch on the side facing the Gulf. A couple of years later they put window airconditioners in the units, the first place on the beach to have them. Note I’m still wearing the cowboy suit. I probably slept and bathed in it, too.
Me and my firetruck
Based on the car tag, this picture was taken in the summer of 1952. Don’t you just love my shorts. Since my hair was all slicked down and I was dressed nicely, I would think this was before or after we had been to church.
If you look carefully you can see chicken wire around the pilings on the left side of the picture. This was my ‘playpen’. I considered it my prison. I was very bad about wandering off when my parents were busy with the motel and it was hard to keep an eye on me. One time I ended up almost a mile away, so my father enclosed a large area under our house to keep me corralled. I don’t think it ever worked as well as he had hoped.
I, however, viewed it as a challenge to my escape artist skills.
I very quickly learned to undo the door latch he had installed. So my father put a padlock on the door.
I promptly climbed up the chicken wire and squeeszed over the top edge (I was a lot smaller then).
My father extended the chicken wire all the way to top, so I proceeded to tunnel out thru the sand underneath the wire.
Another time my father found me with a saw trying to cut my way thru one of the pilings. I think I got a spanking for that one.
