This is an excerpt from a book published as a guide to Florida by the writers’ project of the WPA in the 1930’s.
Eridu, (50 pop.), is a trading center for turpentine distillers. A wag with a classical bent gave this hamlet a name derived from Eridanus, mythological name of the River Po. In 1863 many Confederate soldiers and men opposed to conscription fled to the wilder portions of this region, forming themselves into bands, and defying both military and civil authorities. A detachment of Confederate cavalry invaded the country; unable to capture the deserters, they drove off the livestock, looted and burned houses, and took into custody the families of the men they sought. Deer, wild geese, ducks, and turkeys are plentiful here, but employment of native guides and hounds is advisable.
The highway crosses the Econfina River (Ind., earth bridge). The roadbed stretches straight ahead for almost 10 miles, shimmering in the distance like a ribbon of dancing black water. Stump-filled flat-woods, dotted with cypress ponds, extend to the horizon in all directions.
Perry, (2,744 pop.), seat of Taylor County, is an industrial town built around a courthouse square. Towering stacks of freshly milled pine and cypress surround the large sawmills along the railroad sidings. In addition to softwood lumber, the mills produce barrel staves, flooring, and hardwood dimension stock for northern manufacturers. The town was known as Rosehead when the first post office was established in 1869.
Right from Perry on State 66 to Hampton Springs, (150 pop.). Old residents claim the springs were named by Joe Hampton, an early settler, who was directed here by an Indian medicine man before the War between the States. Because the waters were so beneficial in the treatment of rheumatism and kindred ills, Hampton bought the springs and much of the adjoining land for $10, and established a health resort. A hotel and cottages surround the swimming pool. The South Georgia Railroad, which has its southern terminus here, owns the resort.
South of Perry the highway winds through hardwood hammocks and piney flatwoods, a region noted for its fresh-water fishing and its hunting. A few sand trails lead off among the trees to emerge at small beach resorts on the Gulf. On the highway here, as elsewhere in the State, convict road gangs labor under the watchful eye of armed guards, and passing motorists catch snatches of their work chants, sung with a characteristic ‘Ugh!’ on the down-swing of a sledge or ax, or the heave of a shovel. A popular song of many stanzas is ‘Louise.’
Lou-u-ise – UGH! – sweetest gal I know –UGH!
She made me walk from Chi-ca-go – UGH!
To the Gulf – UGH! – of Mexico – UGH!
Right on this road to Deadman’s Bay, which appeared under its present name on an eighteenth-century English map. During the War between the States a Federal gunboat put into the harbor and was destroyed by a detachment of Confederates. The crew waded ashore, sought refuge in the home of James Stephens, a fisherman, and was captured. Today Deadman’s Bay is used by Sponge fisherman as a shelter from Gulf storms. Some sponges are brought here, cured, and shipped to the exchange at Tarpon Springs. Sholes and oyster bars partly obstruct the approach to the bay.
A narrow bridge crosses the Steinhatchee River (Ind., man’s river), once a retreat for pirates in near-by Gulf waters; according to legend, treasure is buried along the palm-crowned banks, but no success has attended the frequent attempts to unearth it.