The Earls of East Hall, Part IV

The final installment/study of Emmett and his junior-year college roommates at Stetson features John N. Worley, of St. Augustine, and Fred Fee, of Fort Pierce, Florida.

According to the East Hall essay, Worley was the master of tall tales.

Worley and Fee are mentioned in the red box. Source: Stetson University Archives.

He was enrolled in the Liberal Arts program; and, according to the 18th Catalog of Stetson University, had no specific classification, but was taking electives at the University.

Unfortunately, I haven’t found much about Worley beyond a few articles in the Stetson University student newspaper. He mostly led a quiet life as a student on campus; he was Emmett’s dorm mate again in 1904 during their senior year.

I think life was hard for Worley and his family: Five family members (including an infant) died in 1918, likely victims of the influenza pandemic. There is very little additional information about him, other than the fact that his vocation was, first, as an engineer in the early 1920s, then, from the mid-20s onward, as a plumber in St. Augustine.

I don’t believe Emmett would have seen him on any regular basis; it appears that Emmett didn’t travel to St. Augustine during his lifetime.

Passport photo of Fred Fee. Source: Ancestry.com

Fred Fee was born in Kansas in 1880, and attended Allegheny College in Meadville, Pennsylvania. He graduated from Stetson with both an A.B. in 1904, and an LL.B. in 1905. While he was at Stetson, he was a member of the Phi Kappa Delta fraternity, and he wrote articles for college publications.

Fee set up his law practice in Fort Pierce. In 1906, he was elected Judge of St. Lucie County; later, he served as mayor of Ft. Pierce. He has an interesting family, with deep roots in St. Lucie County: I found an obituary for his oldest daughter, F. Mary Fee, which goes into detail about her family’s life. You can read it for yourself at this link.

A youthful CHB Floyd. Unfortunately, he died at the end of the influenza pandemic, in Florida, about 1920.

A side note: Fee was the law partner of Apalachicola’s poet laureate and entertaining journalist-lawyer, Charles Henry Bourke Floyd. Floyd died in 1920, at the end of the influenza epidemic.

“Harry” Floyd, if you recall, wrote regular syndicated humorous and critical essays about Florida politicians and lawyers for several state newspapers. In one of his essays, Floyd specifically dogged both Gov. Napoleon Broward and Emmett about the fact that they were still unmarried (despite being besieged by women) and leading important, prominent lives. In 1912, people liked their governors and political leaders to be married, to appear ‘settled down,’ to conform to general society standards. Broward and Emmett were bucking tradition.

Floyd made much of this in one particular column that ran in 1912, in The Pensacola News, as he put the question, plainly, to both Broward and Emmett about their still-unmarried state:

“What’s wrong with you?”

I admit I didn’t dig really deep into each of the Earl’s lives; I would have liked to do it, and maybe I will, after I finish Emmett’s story. Emmett spent a lot of time with these guys during what I consider some of the best years of his short life.

My idea was to get a general idea of Emmett’s friends, what they were like, what they did, where they were from, activities, sports, habits, and the like. People with similar habits and likes/dislikes tend to hang out together; and, until I get my hands on Emmett’s scrapbooks, I have to extrapolate what he must have been like via the college bios of his roommates.

It’s not a perfect approach to this research project, but it does give me an idea how to frame the chapter about Emmett’s time at Stetson.

Hall of Fame

This was an interesting find the other day.

The Florida Bench and Bar for 1899, with annotations. Source: Florida Memory.com

The Florida Bench and Bar, 1899, with annotations. Source: Florida Memory.com

Yes, this is the veritable “Who’s Who” of Florida’s legal and political leadership as of 1899. If you were ANYBODY of importance, your mug was here, in this eye-test of a montage.

I went through every single doggone one of these images. There’s a list on Florida Memory.com of who is on this page, but that list is not in any order whatsoever. So, I spent an hour or so identifying several key players in this photo that figure significantly into Emmett’s story.

Here’s who was considered hot stuff of Florida Bar and Bench back in 1899:

Nathan P. Bryan, a man without a comb.

Nathan P. Bryan — in the green circle at the top of the photo. Bryan served as a U.S. Senator at the same time Emmett was serving as U.S. Congressman. Bryan knew Emmett fairly well; in fact, he ‘loaned’ Emmett his personal secretary as an escort home to Marianna in 1915, after Emmett nearly died at Providence Hospital in 1914.

And yes, that is a cowlick on the left side of his head in the photo.

Charles Parkhill, family man and handlebar mustache aficianado.

Charles Parkhill — in the second row, blue circle. Parkhill was the initial candidate for the third district congressional seat in 1912 (Frank Mayes’ first choice). He had gone ahead and resigned his post as judge of the circuit, and purchased an automobile so that he could travel the district, impress the constituents.

The thing was, Parkhill really wanted to wear the congressional toga, but he was torn: He had a large family, the salary of a judge didn’t pay much, and his wife wanted to move back to Tampa. Three weeks after announcing his candidacy, Parkhill changed his mind — he put his family first, pulled out of the race. Frank Mayes then approached his second choice, Emmett Wilson …and the rest is history.

John H. Norton — in the second row, red box. A lawyer out of Jacksonville. I’m not sure who this man is; but, I liked the looks of him. He reminded me of Sherlock Holmes’ Dr. Watson.

I digress.

A.E. Maxwell, who also went by “Emmett.”

Augustus Emmett Maxwell — in the fifth row, red circle. Emmett’s grandfather, once a jurist on the Florida Supreme Court. Emmett and his grandfather were close; I believe Emmett wished to emulate his grandfather as much as possible. Maxwell was Emmett’s mentor up until his death, in 1904, right before Emmett graduated from law school at Stetson University. Maxwell died in Chipley, at the Wilson family home, in the care of Emmett’s father, Dr. F.C. Wilson.

Lou Ella Pinnell — in the sixth row, green box. Meet the very first woman to pass the bar, and be admitted to practice law in Florida. The gentleman right next to her with the gigantic beard is her father (and law partner), Ethan A. Pinnell. It is doubtful that Emmett ever interacted with her, but I have to include her in this discussion because of who she is.

Lou Ella Pinnell and her father, Ethan Pinnell. Source: Florida Memory.com

The Pinnells, of Bronson, Florida, were originally from Missouri. Ethan encouraged his daughter to study law with him when she expressed interest at an early age. She proved herself, in her father’s eyes, and so she took the bar examination, which, at the time, was an oral examination given by Levy County, Florida attorneys. According to Lou (and witnesses), the examiners were twice as hard on her with the questions, because they thought it unfit that a woman would want to become a lawyer. She answered their questions correctly; so, the board could not deny her admission to the bar — but, the Supreme Court of Florida did — because the justices at that time did not know what to ‘do’ with her.

Finally, five months after passing the bar, the Supreme Court of Florida admitted her, and she went into practice with her father.

Source: Hubbell’s Legal Directory for Lawyers, Vol. 32.

In case it hasn’t been said in many decades, thank you, Lou Ella.

A young J. Walter Kehoe.

J. Walter Kehoe — in the seventh row, yellow circle. Kehoe was Emmett’s ‘best friend’ for years; Emmett lived with the Kehoes most of his adult life as an extended member of that family.

The yellow circle around Kehoe isn’t careless, by the way. More to that story in the book.

Alice H. Johnson, of Live Oak.

Alice H. Johnson — in the eighth row, red box. Alice H. Johnson, like Lou Ella Pinnell, was one of two ‘documented’ female lawyers.

Unfortunately, I have not been able to find anything out about her, other than a minor writeup about her in a publication called Florida Agriculturist. Here’s what it said:

From the Florida Agriculturist, vol 25, p. 219, for 1898. The reporters didn’t know about Lou Pinnell, obviously.

I wonder if Alice knew Minnie Kehoe? I imagine Alice, Lou Ella, and Minnie probably did get together to compare notes, and so forth. I would love to have at least witnessed one of their gatherings!

Charles Swayne, Impeachment survivor.

Charles Swayne — in the seventh row, dark blue box. Once upon a time, Judge Charles Swayne was up for impeachment — and his own counsel admitted that he was guilty of some of the charges lodged against him, but said that the charges against Swayne ‘inadvertent.’

Emmett’s brother Cephas was called to testify in this case, which you can read about here. Swayne was guilty, but he got off. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

A youthful CHB Floyd. Unfortunately, he died at the end of the influenza pandemic, in Florida, about 1920.

Charles Henry Bourke Floyd — in the 10th row, purple box. CHB Floyd was not only an attorney, but he was a well-read, prolific writer who was popular for bestowing his ‘sprig of laurel’ to various individuals he admired and featured in his syndicated editorials.

Floyd even bestowed upon Emmett this hallowed sprig after winning the nomination for his congressional seat in June, 1912. Floyd and Emmett knew each other as acquaintances, not close friends.

What I thought interesting about the montage was that Emmett’s big brother, Cephas Love Wilson, who considered himself very hot stuff (at the bar, at the bank, at the bench, and in the, ahem, bedroom) is not included in this photograph.

There are several other Wilsons, but not Ceph.

In 1899, Emmett was still at West Florida Seminary, and so, would not have been included in this montage.

It is not clear who or what determined that these individuals were representative of Florida’s best of the bar and bench. It is an interesting collection of personalities, ages, level of experience, and the like. There doesn’t seem to be another one like this; I have not yet found out if this was an annual project. There are other photo collections of state representatives, but nothing similar in scope to this.

All in the Cards

Last week, NPR’s History Department had a great story about flirtation cards. Ever hear of them?

Source: dailymail.co.uk

Source: mentalfloss.com

The fellow who had to use flirtation cards to meet eligible young ladies strikes me as having been a little desperate, you know? The young man may not have been invited to dances or soirees, or had an opportunity that often to meet proper young ladies.

I know that Emmett was included in many social functions and gatherings; the mothers of Pensacola and Marianna society were the ones who issued these invitations, by the way. Emmett was considered quite eligible. He wasn’t hurting for invitations.

Our friend CHB Floyd also once described Emmett as ‘besieged’ yet unconquered by young women who hoped to ‘catch’ him for a husband. I doubt Emmett had a need for flirtation cards.

But, I can see his caddish (and very much married) older brother Cephas using them on occasion. Ceph wouldn’t let something like being married keep him off the dating scene. But that’s a story for another day.

Speaking of cards, my dad recently sent me a book that belonged to my mother.

That's a mother-of-pearl on the cover, which is a hard black cover. It isn't leather, and it isn't fabric on the cover.

That’s mother-of-pearl on the cover, which is a hard black material. It isn’t leather, and it isn’t fabric on the cover. Purchased by my mom in 1970.

“Affection’s Gift.” It is gold leaf on the cover.

Here’s the story of this book. When I was six years old, I lived in Vicksburg, Mississippi. My mom liked to go to estate sales all the time, and I went with her to this particular sale. She bought a brass floor lamp for $5 and this book, for $1. I remember that she liked the book very much, and she let me carry it home (we walked to the estate sale, which was in our neighborhood). Going to this sale was a big deal, because we did not have a lot of money when I was growing up. I remember my dad gave her hell about spending $5 for a brass floor lamp and “some old book.” She had the last laugh as the lamp turned out to be worth more than $200 and served up hot crow to my dad for about a week thereafter.

The title page. There is no date in this edition, but I looked it up, and there were different versions of this book produced between 1838 and 1858. The best estimate for this particular book is 1853.

Notice the drugstore stamp at the upper right, where (presumably) it was purchased. I like also how someone practiced writing the name of the book on this page.

No date, no author given, but I dug around and discovered the author was a Mrs. John Sandford, AKA Elizabeth Poole Sandford. Someone has created a blog for her, too! Check it out here.

Here’s the back of the book. The central inlay is not ceramic, but it seems to be an enameled wood, perhaps? I’m not sure. It is in great shape for something that is about 160 years old.

This book is all about the ‘proper sphere of woman’, pre-suffrage. I tried reading it a few times as a kid, then a teenager, and found the text too irritating. (If you want to actually read the text of this book, you can find it on the Internet Archive, here.) The modern 1970s girl that I was got impatient with the book, and I put it aside and forgot about it.

So, my dad, knowing how I love old books and history, sent it to me (very well packaged). I was pleased to have it, despite my previous experience with the text. I looked through the book, which has wonderful illustrations in it; the edges of the book are in very faded gold-leaf. This book was not inexpensive back in the day. I wondered if it was a gift.

And so, I turned a few pages, and found this:

A gentleman’s calling card tucked into the second half of this book.

I’m intrigued. I don’t know who the original owner of this book was, but the giver may likely have been W.B. Stone. This book, with the expensive gold leaf and mother-of-pearl inlay would definitely have been a nice (and extremely proper) gift to a young lady back in the day.

Here’s the back of the card:

It looks like the back of a playing card.

Back in the day, calling cards were an important part of the social ritual. A man’s card was usually simple, like the one seen above. Emmett would have had one like this, too, with just his name. So, for example, Emmett’s personal calling cards would have read, simply: Emmett Wilson. His business calling card might have read: “Hon. Emmett Wilson” with a line such as “Attorney-at-Law” underneath. But a gentleman never made the mistake of leaving the business card at a young lady’s house unless he was making a business call. It was considered bad form to have a professional title on a personal business card.

Of course, you know this means I have a new artifact to add to my wish list: Emmett’s business or personal calling card. I hope to come across one somewhere in my research adventures.

Tell my story.

History, Mystery, Research in Progress

CHB Floyd

The Earls of East Hall, Part IV

Hall of Fame

All in the Cards