Historic City Memories: The trailer train wars

The trailer train wars

A shootout in front of the Occidental Hotel

By Geoff Dobson

Glowering across the street from each other at 166 San Marco Avenue and 167 San Marco Avenue were the respective corporate headquarters of St. Augustine Trains, Inc. originally controlled by Joe McClure, Sr. and Authentic Old Jail, Inc. controlled by Slim McDaniel each two of St. Augustine’s more colorful characters.

St. Augustine Trains, Inc. has since changed its corporate name to reflect a change of ownership, and the corporate headquarters of Authentic Old Jail, Inc is now located at 201 Front Street in Key West.

Both Joe and Slim are now gone, and St. Augustine is poorer for the loss of both.

St. Augustine Trains was incorporated in 1967. Five years later in 1972, Authentic Old Jail, Inc came into existence. Soon the rivalry between the two for control of the trailer train business came to the attention of the City Commission.

After several years of discussion, on May 23, 1977, The City Commission adopted an ordinance banning the operation of trailer-trains within the City without first obtaining a franchise from the City.

Joe McClure, although he disagreed with the ordinance, was able to obtain a franchise. Slim McDaniel was unsuccessful but nevertheless continued to operate with “free trains.” The City having inserted itself in the middle, found itself in a court battle with both sides’ lawyers taking pot shots at each other and the City.

It was like the classic western gun shoot-out in front of the Occidental Hotel described in Owen Wister’s classic novel the “Virginian.” Only this time, the City was in the middle. For the next four years, the City and both protagonists, Slim and Joe, battled it out in the Circuit Court before Judge Eastmore and in the District Court of Appeal.

After four years, the District Court rendered two decisions which the City technically won but which, in fact, decided nothing and left the matter for a continued court battle. In other words, the four years of litigation had been a skirmish which the City won, but the war continued.

The City Commission, worn out by the battle, finally threw in the towel and gave Slim a franchise.

The sniping between the two, however, continued — mostly on a minor level with each looking out from their respective lairs and counting the number of passengers on the other’s trains.

Joe McClure, prior to his coming to St. Augustine, had been a Ford dealer and had operated a transit line in Athens, Georgia. Prior to that, he was employed by the Ford Motor Company.

Joe was entirely likeable but had an element of Harry Bennett in him. Bennett had been the right-hand man for Henry Ford who allegedly dismissed an employee who had an office in an outbuilding at the Ford plant. The dismissal was accomplished without notice to the employee over a weekend.

On a Friday afternoon the employee left for the weekend. Almost immediately, crews came in, razed the building and placed a fountain where the building previously stood, then laid sod and created flower beds in the area. Thus on Monday morning, the employee discovered that he was no longer needed.

Joe’s method of departure from Athens was similar. He had gotten into a battle with the City fathers of Athens over his transit line. On a weekend, the busses were all loaded up with the office furniture and equipment and departed for Florida. When the City woke up on Monday there were no busses, no bus line, and no one to serve with an injunction to require continued service.

Joe was a practical joker and a member of the Round Table at Captain Jack’s which was then located on the corner of Marine Street and Artillery Lane. One memorable joke was pulled with the connivance of Joe and several others at the table.

One of Joe’s fake “gold” Spanish pieces of eight which he sold as souvenirs was obtained. Someone came into the table with the doubloon claiming to have found it washed up at the beach. Another at the table indicated that under Florida law it had to be turned over to the Clerk of the Court. It was dutifully turned over to the Clerk. A third told the Clerk that is should not be directly handled. Body oils might cause damage to the doubloon. The coin was wrapped in napkin. Finally, the one who indicated it had to be turned over to the Clerk, advised that the Clerk need to have it appraised.

Fortunately, there was a jewelry store in the bottom of the Courthouse then located in what is now the Santa Monica Hotel. Unbeknownst to the Clerk, the jeweler had been alerted. When the Clerk came in, the jeweler examined the coin. “How much is it worth?” asked the Clerk. “Oh, about two cents,” was the reply.

Joe for a while was mayor of St. Augustine Beach and as such municipal judge. There was one individual who lived near Crescent Beach and found it expedient to come to town via way of Dupont Center so as to avoid Marshal Booth and Judge McClure.

Joe, however, was charitable and often worked in support of the Boy Scouts and other community organizations. Joe, being colorful and not merely because of his green leisure suit jacket, was a favorite participant in local roasts. At the time, roasts were used as fund raisers for organizations. At the roasts, outrageous lies were told about the honoree. A favorite emcee for such roasts was a local judge who allegedly had a file drawer full of zingers.

There came a time when Joe unknowingly was to be honored with a “Citizen of the Year” award from a local civic club in the Shores. Gus Craig was in charge and had told Joe that he was invited to come to the roast, to help roast Gus. The judge was allegedly not available and Gus asked the writer to do the honors. The advantage of a small town such as St. Augustine was at the time is that everyone knows everyone else. Accordingly, the barbs would hit at home and needed no explanation.

Unfortunately, when the writer arrived at the roast, the only persons he recognized were Gus and Joe. The president of the club explained that all of the members had come from Long Island and New Jersey and that the national organization required that there be presented a citizen of the year award. Since they didn’t know anyone, they delegated the function to Gus. They did not have a clue as to who Joe was or his background in St. Augustine as a likable curmudgeon. Most of the members in the room were old, they did not know Joe, and they knew nothing of St. Augustine, proving the wisdom of the judge in declining Gus’s invitation. The writer’s wife, knowing of the material to be used in the roast, whispered to the writer, “What are you going to say” to which he replied, “I don’t know, I am eagerly waiting to hear it myself.” Several years later, the writer got his revenge. He roasted Gus.

Many novelists, such as Owen Wister, use actual incidents as a basis for scenes in their narrative. In Wister’s “The Virginian,” the Virginian killed Trampas in the battle in front of the hotel. There actually was a gun fight between Red Angus and Arapaho Brown in front of the Occidental Hotel which may have inspired Wister. Neither Red nor Rap were very good shots. Doc Will Frackleton, a circuit riding dentist, was in town and witnessed the fight from the doorway of the hotel. Bullets flew into the barroom while the customers ducked for cover. When the fight was over, Doc commented to Angus as to the .45’s Angus and Arapaho were firing, “Well I don’t see what in hell you carry those things for. You fellows can’t hit anything with them.” The comment struck Angus and Arapaho funny and relieved the tension. All three went into the bar and ordered drinks.

If there is a bar in Heaven, I would like to think that Joe and Slim are inside sharing drinks.

Geoff Dobson, a St Augustine resident for the past 34 years, is a western and Florida history writer and was former General Counsel for the Florida Department of Transportation. He is a former president of the St. Augustine Historical Society and a regular contributor of nostalgic memories to Historic City News. Before his parents moved to Florida, his father was a Black Angus cattleman. Geoff has written extensively on Wyoming history (“Wyoming Tales and Trails”). When Geoff was in high school, his family lived in the cattle country of eastern Sarasota County. The family spread, which his parents called “Wild Cat Slough,” was reachable only by a pair of ruts over the sand hills and through a snake and gator infested slough. Now, it is an area of four-lane roads, expensive subdivisions, shopping centers, and office parks. . His undergraduate degree is in history. Geoff received his post-graduate degree from the University of Florida. He may be reached at horse.creek.cowboy@gmail.com