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Judging Functions: Part One

Written By Garrett Gerona
Posted on
Categories: Blogs, UWF Student Authors

You’ve become interested in MBTI, and the Myers-Briggs, and now you’re learning about each cognitive function. You figured out what the original eight letters mean, but how does all this Ti, Fi, Si, etc. stuff work?

Cognitive functions are broken into two groups of eight: four judging functions and four perceiving functions. Each type has two judging functions and two perceiving functions. In this article, we’ll cover the two extraverted judging functions: extraverted feeling (Fe) and extraverted thinking (Te).


What Is Fe?

Fe, extraverted feeling, is the function responsible for group harmony. Types which use Fe are particularly attuned to others’ emotions: Fe-users instantly detect and adapt to others’ feelings, especially intense feelings. Fe goes beyond simply “detecting” others’ feelings, however—people’s emotions wield great power over Fe-users. FJs and TPs (eight types who use Fe) often find themselves at the mercy of others’ bad moods and cannot feel happy while others are unhappy.

Fe-users repress their own emotions and values to reflect those of others. Fe-users draw most of their emotional states from those around them, and this reflection allows them to “know what to say” to keep everyone happy. TPs are weaker with Fe, so their social/emotional missteps are more common, and their feelings are easier to damage in the face of these mistakes. FJs are stronger with Fe, so they’re abler to improve others’ moods while maintaining their own emotional integrity.


What Is Te?

Te, extraverted thinking, is the function responsible for organization and logistics. Types that use Te feel the drive to work and know how to accomplish their goals. Te-users tend to admire discipline and dauntless perseverance, and they often strive to develop these traits themselves. Te-users see their resources and goals as pieces of a bigger puzzle, and they work to produce quick, efficient, material results.


Te-users, TJs, and FPs, favor action over contemplation or debate. When deadlines need to be met, Te-users prefer acting quickly with an okay plan over acting slowly with a perfect plan. FPs are weaker with Te, so they’re more prone to procrastination, but they usually keep themselves busy with hands-on, involved activities. TJs are stronger with Te, so they’re more decisive with their actions and thorough in their planning, and many feel guilty or restless during leisure. 

Haunted Pensacola

Written By John Melvin
Posted on
Categories: My Historic Home

Pensacola…the richness of its history is unbounded, and, thus, the topics on which one could write are seemingly endless. In the spirit of the time of the year, I turn my attention to the holiday that helps to keep many a candy company in business—Halloween. As jack-o’-lanterns, witches, and black cats begin making their yearly appearances, the spooky occasion brings with it gangs of excited, costume-clad children roaming the neighborhoods in a sugar-fueled search for their candy loot. (Eh, please, no Tootsie Rolls. Thanks.) And, in historic Pensacola, these ghoulish escapades are accompanied by countless ghost stories! Admittedly, I have never really considered myself to be a part of the ghost-believing crowd; nevertheless, I find the ghost stories with historical roots to be quite fascinating. I’d like to share with you one of my favorites…

Historic Sacred Heart Hospital – Opened in 1915, this large Gothic Revival building served as the first Catholic hospital in Florida. Although hospital operations ceased many years ago, today, historic Sacred Heart Hospital (now called “Tower East”) houses a theater company and several restaurants, including O’Zone Pizza. However, Tower East is not your typical place of business; some believe that theater goers and restaurant patrons are not alone. Indeed, several witnesses attest to seeing ghostly figures adorned in old nurse’s uniforms sauntering down the halls of the massive, history-laden building. And here’s a fun fact—if you’re ever out and about and decide to have a slice and a beer at O’Zone, there are rumors that suggest the old Sacred Heart Hospital morgue was, at one time, located right where you’re dining. Yikes! But, hey, who am I kidding? Have you had a slice of O’Zone pizza? It’s delicious! …I’m cool with dining in a morgue…

This is but one of countless spooky tales of ghostly apparitions or paranormal activity in a Pensacola historical site. As Halloween rapidly approaches, consider taking part in one of the many Haunted House Walking and Trolley Tours in historic Downtown Pensacola.

Here’s an excerpt from the Historic Pensacola Haunted House Walking and Trolley Tours web page:

Join us as we haunt Historic Pensacola on Friday and Saturday, October 19, 25, and 26. There are three walking tour routes to choose from at 7, 7:30, 8, and 8:30 each night including the Adults Only Redlight Walking Tour, the Murder and Mayhem Walking Tour and the Seville Spirits Walking Tour. The Trolley of the Doomed tour explores the ghost stories of North Hill. The trolley tour is at 6:30, 7:30, and 8:30 each night.  Costumed guides lead you through the ghost stories of downtown Pensacola on an hour tour of over 450 years of Pensacola’s haunted history.

To learn more or to purchase your tickets, visit that web page — https://www.historicpensacola.org/plan-your-visit/haunted-house-walking-and-trolley-tours/

Happy Halloween!

A Workshop in Color: Pastels with Doug Dawson

Written By PensacolaFlorida.com
Posted on
Categories: Flotsam And Jetsam

An internationally-known pastel artist is coming to Pensacola to give a workshop in July!

Doug Dawson will teach a three-day class hosted by Quayside Art Gallery. Dates for the workshop are July 15–17, 2019. The Quayside website has more information about how to sign up: https://www.quaysidegallery.com/doug-dawson-pastel-workshop

I became acquainted with Doug’s work from visiting Ventana Art Gallery in Santa Fe. His pastel paintings caught my attention because of his use of color, which makes them seem to glow. I even bought one of his pieces a few years ago and have it hanging in my living room. Doug and many of the old masters like Edgar Degas, Childe Hassam, and Mary Cassatt have inspired me to try using pastels for my own art.

Moored Study, pastel, 11×14, Doug Dawson

I started painting in pastels last summer when I took a class with Pensacola artist Fred Meyers, who has about thirty years of experience and is currently teaching a weekly drawing class, also hosted by Quayside Art Gallery. Although pastels have their challenges, I’m enjoying them for a number of reasons. For one, drawings can be done much faster than they can be rendered in colored pencil, a medium that I typically use for drawings. They can also be layered in a way that colored pencil can’t because of the pastel’s opacity. Top layers can cover layers underneath, whereas colored pencils give transparent layers and a different effect. And, like colored pencils, the color does not have to be mixed, so there are no paints to dry out. They are also color-fast and should retain vibrant colors. For all these reasons, and probably others, they are a popular medium among plein air artists, who work on location outdoors. Yet, pastels are not without some issues to consider.

Like any medium, they have characteristics that could be considered disadvantages. In particular, they are messier than pencils because they’re chalk, and unless I use gloves, my fingers contact the pigment. I keep a damp paper towel close by to wipe my fingers, especially when I’m painting with them during one of my Friday shifts at Quayside Art Gallery. If I compare the mess to oil or acrylic painting, however, it’s not so bad because I don’t have to use solvents, mediums, or thinners, and pastels don’t require drying time. But like oil paints and their solvents, pastels have inhalation issues. Since the dust contains pigments, it can’t be healthy, so I’m careful about not stirring it up and breathing it. And the advantage of not having to mix colors creates a disadvantage in that I have to buy a lot of colors. But, they’re not as expensive as tubes of good-quality oil or acrylic paint. Any medium has its pros and cons, so I choose a medium based on what I want to create and where I’ll be working. And one of those places this summer will be at Framing by Design, where the Quayside workshops are held.

I am really looking forward to Doug’s workshop, and in the meantime, I’m producing a few small pieces, like these peonies entitled Flowers, My Love. It is currently on display at Quayside Art Gallery on the third floor. If you’re interested in learning the techniques of using pastels from an internationally-known artist, consider signing up for Doug’s workshop.

See you there?!


Controversy Looms

Written By John Melvin
Posted on
Categories: My Historic Home

public beach rightsAs Pensacolians, we have a lot to be proud of. We have a fascinating, rich, and long-lasting history. The 1559 settlement attempts of Don Tristan de Luna y Arrellano put Pensacola on the map as the oldest attempted settlement in what is now the United States. We are the City of Five Flags. We are the Cradle of Naval Aviation. In addition to our history, we have some of the country’s most beautiful beaches. Indeed, the beaches of Pensacola and surrounding areas are awe-inspiring to locals and tourists alike. But controversy looms…

A 1946 law called for the portion of Santa Rosa Island under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Interior to be transferred to Escambia County. A deed was issued on January 15, 1947 in which the Santa Rosa National Monument was removed from the jurisdiction of the National Park Service; the land located on Santa Rosa Island was deeded to Escambia County. The deed stipulated that Escambia County would be given the authority to transfer property on Santa Rosa Island, but only in the form of leases. In other words, Escambia County was prohibited from issuing titles of ownership on the property. Over 70 years later, this legislation—which is still in effect—has caused a bit of controversy.

Having been given all rights to this land, Escambia County was required to ensure that the land would be used “for such purposes as it shall deem to be in the public interest” or be leased “to such persons and for such purposes as it shall deem to be in the public interest.” The agreement also stipulated that Escambia County could not convey the land back to the federal government, the State of Florida, or any other agency. Essentially, Pensacola Beach was given to the citizens of Escambia County.

In the 1950s, in an effort to promote revenue from tourism, Escambia County decided to develop Pensacola Beach. Since the land could not be sold, the county established the Santa Rosa Island Authority to oversee a series of 99-year lease agreements. Advertisements encouraging people to populate Pensacola Beach appeared in newspapers. The sales pitch? No property taxes! Since the property was not privately owned—rather, it was leased by the county—people could build on the beach tax-free.

As a result, heavy development ensued for decades, but in the 1980s, Escambia County began levying property taxes on the leased beach properties as a source of tax revenue. As one could imagine, people were not happy. Arguing that they should not have to pay property taxes on leased land, leaseholders filed lawsuit after lawsuit, many of which are still in contention today. Escambia County justifies its actions by maintaining that 99-year lease agreements are tantamount to land ownership deeds.

Since Pensacola Beach and Navarre Beach are public-owned—Escambia County remains the sole landowner—unlike other beaches in Florida, waterfront access is largely unrestricted. Beach patrons are not thwarted from their sunny weekend ventures by gated beach entrances or “No Trespassing” signs.

In 2017, U.S. Rep. Matt Gaetz, R-Fort Walton Beach proposed a bill that would effectively undo the land lease stipulations of the 1946 agreement. The bill, which would allow Pensacola Beach and Navarre Beach leaseholders to take ownership of their land, was endorsed by the House Committee on Natural Resources.

Gaetz’s bill has bipartisan support of Florida senators, including Republican Marco Rubio and Democrat Bill Nelson. If the Senate approves the bill, leaseholders would be permitted to exchange their 99-year leases for property deeds, reflecting ownership of the land. It would also effectively give local county governments control of development on these beach lands.

The Santa Rosa Island Authority fears that such legislation would primarily benefit big land developers and lead to high-rise condos inundating beach properties. Supporters of the legislation, conversely, argue that preservation land will be protected from such large-scale development. The most recent court decision indicates that taxes could be levied on certain beach properties, depending on the wording of their lease agreements. The right to tax, the court maintains, hinges on whether the lease renews automatically at the end of its term or if negotiations would be in order.

So, what lies in store for our beaches? Will the status quo be maintained? Will leaseholders become landowners? Will local citizens and tourists continue enjoying easy access to our beaches, or will we begin seeing the dreaded “No Trespassing” signs? Only time will tell. In the meantime, summer is right around the corner, so get out there and enjoy it! But remember, do yourself a favor—leave early. The traffic can be a nightmare!

The Saltbox on Zaragoza

Written By John Melvin
Posted on
Categories: My Historic Home, Pensacola Treasures, Tourism

Many a mile I have walked, traversing the streets of historic Downtown Pensacola. Like an aficionado of fine art sauntering down exhibit aisles, curiosity piqued, eagerly anticipating the next great work to marvel, I gazed upon historic building after historic building in wonder of the fascinating stories they could tell.

My fervor for historic architecture began when I was an undergraduate student at the University of West Florida. I was a history, philosophy, and art history triple major; I loved it all. While completing an historic architecture-related project for an art history course, I took to the streets of Downtown Pensacola having never explored the area before, despite the fact that I was born and raised in North Santa Rosa County. Long story short, those streets became my stomping ground.

Then, one day, I happened upon a real beauty, positioned starkly close to the sidewalk on which I strolled. I don’t know what it is about the Julee Cottage, but something just draws me to it–history aside, I just love the building. Quaint. Humble. Pleasant. Picturesque. These are all descriptors my mind conjures while gazing upon this magnificent structure. Offset only slightly from the charming brick sidewalk, this delightful saltbox-style cottage is only made more appealing by its gorgeous landscaping. I could drone on and on about its aesthetic appeal; nevertheless, as the old adage goes, “a picture is worth a thousand words.”

Then, there’s the history, and in this realm, the Julee Cottage reigns supreme. Constructed between 1790 and 1808, most historical records indicate it was most likely raised between 1804 and 1808. It was around this time that Julee Panton, a “free woman of color,” purchased this cottage and myriad other properties in the area. Anecdotal accounts bedded in Pensacola traditional folklore suggest Julee, despite being a “free woman of color,” actually purchased slaves herself. But, why? Thankfully, Julee’s intentions for making such transactions were virtuous. It’s believed that Julee purchased slaves, allowed them to work for others to earn money to repay their debt, and then set them free!

I just love stories like these, and learning more and more about the rich history of the Julee Cottage only made me grow fonder of the darling structure. Today, the Julee Cottage is quite active, serving as one of many unique and interesting components of historic Downtown Pensacola’s self-guided tours. I encourage you to visit the Julee Cottage for a glimpse into the life of a working-class, African-American family during a fascinating time period in American history–Reconstruction. Tickets and additional information are available at the Tivoli High House, located directly across the street from the Julee Cottage, at 205 E. Zaragoza Street.

Happy history, my friends!

Long Shadows

Written By Kathlene Rushing
Posted on
Categories: Blog Posts, Flotsam And Jetsam

I like this picture of Benny and me, even though it’s not really of us, but of our shadows. Any viewer knows that a person and a dog stood in this grassy area at a time when the sun was low and that someone took a picture of the shadows and not the person or the dog. These shadows reach far into the yard, much farther than I could stretch my arms or legs. I now see this photo as a metaphor for the reach our lives have on others, even if we’re not physically in the picture.

Anyone who has lost a loved one knows that the presence of that loved one is felt long after he or she is gone. Time, like distance, may distort the loss, much in the same way that the closest shadows near our feet are over-large, whereas our heads, farther into the yard, are disproportionately smaller. This distortion doesn’t cause the viewer to doubt the existence of a person and a dog blocking the sun. But fortunately, the viewer also doesn’t have to put a monetary value on this loss of sunlight, unlike the experience that I had recently serving on a jury tasked with valuing the loss of a loved one’s “sunshine.”

In September 2018, I was part of a jury that was instructed to determine the dollar amounts to award to the widow and three adult children of a man who had died of lung cancer. In a previous trial, the defendant (Philip Morris) had been found guilty of contributing to the smoker’s death, and the plaintiffs (the family) had been awarded economic damages, those damages for which a dollar amount is more easily determined, like expenses and loss of income. For this follow-up trial, the jury was asked to determine the compensation for the family’s “pain and suffering.” So, our question was the following: what, if anything, should the family receive in damages for the emotional trauma they went through as a result of the death? This question proved to be even more difficult than I might have imagined, and I have some experience at valuing things that are difficult to put a dollar number on.

For twenty-five years, I worked for The Dow Chemical Company in research and development. At the time of my retirement, I was a Sr. Director in charge of Intellectual Capital Management. This group of experienced chemists and engineers worked to advise Dow’s businesses on the value and utilization of intellectual capital, which includes the corporation’s intangible assets:  ideas, inventions, and intellectual property, such as patents and trademarks. These assets are not the hard assets, like the bricks and mortar or financial holdings, but they are, as the definition of intangible implies, “not tangible, impalpable, an asset (such as goodwill) that is not corporeal, an abstract quality or attribute” (Merriam-Webster). If “pain and suffering” does not fit in the legal category of economic damages, then it must be considered an intangible, which can certainly have value. So, for the jury, we had to decide the value of this most uneconomic aspect of life, but I think there are parallels to the business world.

For us in the corporate environment, the value of intellectual capital was frequently hard to determine because not only was it usually an anticipated value, a possible future value, but it also was highly context-dependent. For example, an invention may be very valuable to a company that seeks a certain market position, yet not valuable to a company that has no interest in the same market. And in addition, market dynamics are notorious for being unpredictable. I discuss these considerations and others related to the management of intellectual capital in a book chapter published in Cultures of Copyright (Peter Lang, 2015). However, my corporate background did not prepare me for the jury deliberation as much as the intervening two months have, in which I’ve had time to consider the options and what we might have argued.

In this trial, the smoker was a white male, who died of lung cancer at age 42 after a year of illness. He left a wife and three children, ages (if I recall correctly) nine, sixteen, and twenty-one. His death left the family emotionally devastated, and they testified tearfully to the aftermath with its pain and suffering. The jury was told that in the previous trial the family had been awarded economic damages, but we didn’t know how much, nor could we do any background searching. Since we didn’t know how much money the family was awarded in the first trial, we had no idea if they had already received millions of dollars or a thousand dollars. We had to keep in mind that whatever the first settlement was, our decision was a separate issue. What we could know is what their counsel was asking for and what the defendant’s counsel said was a reasonable number. Counsel for the family asked for $1.3 million each for the widow and three children. The Defendant, Philip Morris, said that $50,000 each was a reasonable number. Given the wide disparity in these numbers, the jury had a difficult task, and it was made even more difficult by a similar disparity in the feelings and perceptions of jury members, perspectives that were based on the life experiences of each juror.

Some things we could agree on: the proposed $1.3 million seemed too high possibly because we had no data to justify it; no amount of money was going to bring back the deceased; and the family had, indeed, suffered as a result of the patriarch’s death. Beyond this consensus, our differences in opinion were more intense and more emotional.

The jury consisted of two men and four women. Four jurors felt, at first, that the family should receive nothing. The argument centered around considerations like these: if he had died from heart trouble, for example, the family would have suffered the same pain and suffering yet had no one to sue; money does not bring him back or end the suffering; and he had made a choice to smoke, knowing what the consequences might be. These attitudes came from jurors who had suffered significant personal losses of close family members, were veterans of wars, or were smokers themselves. The unwillingness to make Philip Morris pay for pain and suffering caught me by surprise, and I found the arguments difficult to refute.

I have not lost a close family member to cancer. I haven’t been in the military, and I don’t smoke. I personally could easily understand giving the family some sum that was in between the Plaintiff’s and the Defense’s proposals. Having been in a management role in a large corporation like Philip Morris, I knew how little even $500,000 actually is to such a company, and I could easily imagine how they might have been found contributory to the smoker’s death. But I found my suggestions on how to view why they deserved any compensation didn’t carry much weight.

After a heated deliberation, the best we could agree on was close to the Philip Morris number because even Philip Morris had said that $50,000 each was fair. We awarded the children each $50,000 and the widow $100,000. These numbers seemed like a lot of money to the other juror members, so the award seemed fair to them. I felt that I could live with this decision because $50,000 each might be significant to the family, even though I knew it was a drop in the bucket to Philip Morris. Since this verdict, I’ve had time to consider arguments for why and how much this family might have been awarded, but I’m no lawyer and have no idea which of these arguments could be used in a court of law.

My thought going into the jury deliberation was that we could arrive at a number somewhere between what the Plaintiffs were asking for and what Philip Morris stated was a fair amount. I hoped to agree to about $500,000. A number in this range is one that I could justify based on comparing the widow, for example, to what Philip Morris does for its employees if I considered what she would have cost the company in salary, benefits, and overhead if she had worked for Philip Morris for two years. The smoker suffered for a year battling the lung cancer with the widow caring for him, and then she spent most of another year settling matters after his death, so the situation could be viewed as though she were an employee. If other jurors had thought $500,000 was reasonable, we would have had a short deliberation. There are other ways I could rationalize more money than what we awarded.

Alternatively, we might have considered what the typical employee of Philip Morris might receive in compensation, such as life insurance, in the event of a similar death. The widow would have received some benefits if he had been a Philip Morris employee. What does Philip Morris do for its employee upon an untimely death?

But rather than viewing the family as an extension of Philip Morris employees, we might have taken an approach similar to how companies value something known as “goodwill.” Goodwill is an intangible asset that has value above those assets that can be exchanged, bought, sold, and traded. Goodwill can be defined and calculated in many ways, but a couple of simple ways to view it are the following:  1) for a publicly traded company, goodwill value can be thought of as the market value (stock price times number of outstanding shares) minus the value of the identifiable assets or 2) the purchase price of a company minus the company’s assets that have an identifiable economic value. Applying this view of “goodwill” to the family of the deceased smoker is relevant, but still hard to value.

The smoker had an economic value associated with his death, such as lost income, medical expenses, and funeral expenses, but the loss of his companionship to the widow and parenting to the children are part of his “goodwill” as a member of the family. What was the value of his personal goodwill? No one argues that corporate goodwill exists and is valued. Corporations pay millions and sometimes billions of dollars for goodwill. However, personal goodwill and the loss of it from the smoker’s family is not something Philip Morris and the Plaintiffs agreed on. He had no market value or purchase price from which to subtract his hard assets. But this disparity in valuing intangible assets is typical because the value of the asset is always situation dependent. His life meant something very different to his family than it could ever mean to a large corporation. But these obstacles shouldn’t mean that putting a dollar value on personal goodwill should be impossible.

A study of how corporate goodwill is calculated might shed light on ways that personal goodwill could be argued. For example, the value of Philip Morris’s corporate goodwill could be estimated and compared with its economic assets. Perhaps it’s a number like 50% above its hard assets. So then, what if personal goodwill could be estimated as a percent above the economic assets and other quantifiable numbers? Unfortunately, however, I understand from an attorney that none of these arguments is admissible in a Florida court.

Especially in light of the fact that arguments to justify awarding pain and suffering are not allowable in court, determining the specific value for compensation to a family is never going to be easy. Pain and suffering are not on a family’s balance sheet.  But pain and suffering are, however, quite tangible. They may not be a part of economic compensation, but money does alleviate some financial burdens, which also contribute to the pain and suffering. The definition of intangible is “incapable of being perceived by the sense of touch,” but intangibles are capable of being perceived by the heart, and juries should be able to have guidance in determining the value of personal goodwill to award. I wish that the State of Florida would reconsider the law around what is admissible in court.

As jurors, we knew that the lives of the family had been damaged by the loss of the husband and father, even though we never met him, and he was no longer in the picture. The shadow of his presence still stretches out into time in the lives of the family, and maybe, like Benny’s and my shadows, it becomes smaller and distorted, but it is still real nevertheless.

Pensacola Treasures

Written By Sharon Duplantis
Posted on
Categories: Pensacola Treasures

Reflections of a reluctant author…

When the marketing person from my publisher first contacted me about joining a group of authors to write a blog, I was both intrigued and a bit intimidated.  I recently published a photo book of the cottages in the Pensacola Historic District, and consider myself primarily a photographer – the writing provided background and context for the photographs.  So to be given a task meant for “real writers”,  in the company of “real authors” was a bit frightening.  What do I have to write about?

I was instructed to write about what I’m interested in & passionate about.  So here you will find my musings on photography, Pensacola historic districts and preservation, first time “authorship”, and anything else that happens to be on my mind…

So, on my mind today:  Having just launched the book, many people have asked “How did you come to write (again, using “write” as a loose term) this book?”  And they mean – why this subject?  Well, the photos came first…

Although Pensacola is my hometown, I moved away in my early twenties and came back six years ago.  In that span of time Pensacola has made some drastic changes (for the better) that led me to spend a lot of time downtown (New shops! Good restaurants!)  My love of shopping & eating eventually led to walking around the Seville area for exercise, and awareness of the differences between downtown Pensacola and the homogeneity of the New Tampa neighborhoods from which I had recently come.

At first it was a bit disturbing – above ground electric lines (ugghh), unkept yards (What? no neighborhood covenants?)  But the more I looked, I began to see the things that did not exist in New Tampa – the beautiful patina of old wood, decorative scrollwork on turn of the century homes, … HISTORY, charm!  So after snapping the first photo of a beautiful cottage, I became enamored with these older homes.  I developed a love for the aesthetic of these cottages and their surroundings.  In time, I had accumulated about 60 photos of really cool historic, charming dwellings.   

And around that time I began to notice some older buildings being demolished to make way for new development.  It occurred to me that eventually some of my beloved cottages could suffer the same fate.  A quote I ran across once came to mind:

“In the end, we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand and we will understand only what we are taught.”  -Baba Dioum    

So with the hope that others could share my appreciation for Pensacola’s oldest neighborhood, I decided to move forward with the concept of the book “Cottage Charm in Historic Seville”.   

The Pensacola Historic District is a place that continues to engage me visually, and I love learning more about the folks that built the early dwellings in the neighborhood.  In this blog I will touch on these topics.  For me, the most fulfilling part about publishing this book has been hearing from people who have an association with one of these cottages.  If you have any info on early residents from the district I would love to hear from you!


For more information about Cottage Charm in Historic Seville go to:  PensacolaTreasures.com and PensacolaTreasures1821 on Instagram

Sharon can be contacted at PensacolaTreasures@gmail.com

A Walk Back In Time…

Written By Sharon Duplantis
Posted on
Categories: Pensacola Treasures

Shortly after moving back to Pensacola I began walking through the Pensacola Historic District a few times a week.  Exercise was my excuse, but mainly I do it because I’m fascinated by the architecture and surroundings.  Shade is supplied by a canopy of sprawling live oaks.  The landscape is dotted with stately old magnolias, Seville orange trees (those bitter oranges brought here by the Spanish), and cabbage palms mixed with overgrown gangly azaleas in reds & bright pinks.  Bees buzz through flowering vines draped across rickety pickets, alongside meandering butterflies and past the occasional cat lolling on a front porch… nothing like the typical manicured neighborhoods I’d become accustomed to, & way more interesting.  History is apparent everywhere – in the landscape and the architecture.

Developing over a 200 year period, this neighborhood features a diverse collection of period structures – from grand homes built for the Who’s Who of the time, to tiny Creole Cottages and shotgun houses built as rentals for the working class.  The details fascinate me… beautifully patinated raw wood fences, delicate jigsaw appliqué, turned balusters, and decorative brackets…I’m most impressed by the simplest cottages trimmed with all the details.  I love that someone cared for their tiny home so much to embellish it that way.

It’s quiet here.  Even though all manner of construction (and a bit of destruction) is happening just blocks away.  The cats don’t care (nor the birds or butterflies).  The pace here is slow and lazy, contemplative and inspirational.

Walk with me for just a block…notice a few highlights:  starting in Seville Square (called “the Green” in that era), look west to see Old Christ Church, circa 1832, one of the oldest buildings of worship left standing in Florida.  Next door is a beautiful example of post civil war Greek Revival architecture, circa 1871.  This home was built for the family of Clara Barkley Dorr (daughter of Charles Barkley) after the death of her husband, a local lumber executive.  Look north to see some of the larger homes in the district, most built in the mid 19th century – one of them a Baptist Parsonage, another belonging to William Anderson who served as mayor in 1893; and the Steamboat House, circa 1857, a unique home considered an excellent example of the “Steamboat Gothic” style of architecture.

Turn right onto Government street… looking to the right you’ll see the pink restaurant now called Dharma Blue, circa 1880.  A few homes down on the left is St. Michael’s Creole Benevolent House, circa 1895, which served as a meeting hall for Pensacola Creoles of Spanish-Negro descent.  Many of the modest homes on this end of Government belonged to Creoles who were predominately barbers and musicians, one of them housing the nephew of Salvador Pons, who was mayor in 1874.  Looking again to the right, notice a very simple tin-roofed home known as Susannah’s Cottage, circa 1800.  On the 1820 census she was listed as simply “Ma Susana, age 40, single negro washer woman”.

Turning right onto South Florida Blanca, you’ll notice two very similar homes side by side.  Sporting beautifuly weathered unpainted wood siding, they were built for brothers who were sea captains, one of whom died after being swept off his ship in a storm (yes, there are ghost stories about that!  I’ve heard it referred to as “the Boo Radley”)  At the end of Florida Blanca, with a great view of the bay sits the Barkley House, circa 1812.  One of the most notable homes of the time, the Barkley House was a hub of social and political activity in that era, as it’s owners played host to Pensacola’s most prominent citizens.  I could go on, but you get the picture (love those photography puns!)  These details are tiny fragments of the history contained in the 36 blocks that make up the Pensacola Historic District.

This neighborhood represents the aesthetic and cultural essence of Pensacola.  It’s as much of an attraction as the T. T. Wentworth Museum or the Pensacola Museum of Art.  It’s a living, breathing museum.   Something we should nurture, be proud of, and share with visitors.  So check it out – take a walk sometime…


For more information about Cottage Charm in Historic Seville go to:  PensacolaTreasures.com and PensacolaTreasures1821 on Instagram

Sharon can be contacted at PensacolaTreasures@gmail.com

The House On Lot 23

Written By Kathlene Rushing
Posted on
Categories: Blog Posts, Pensacola Treasures, Tourism

House on Lot 23

The history of Pensacola is rich and enduring, indeed. Known as the “City of Five Flags,” Pensacola has been under the control of five nations since its inception in 1559–Spain, France, England, the Confederacy, and the United States. Consequently, various architectural influences are evident in much of Pensacola’s historic architecture. During the Third Spanish Period (1781-1821), the Isaac Wright House–a modest cottage that has long piqued my interest–was constructed at what is now 431 E. Zaragoza St. in historic downtown Pensacola.

This quaint cottage, as one might expect from a structure initially built approximately 200 years ago, is somewhat shrouded in mystery. A plaque posted next to the front door indicates the house was built in the 1790s. However, there has been contention about the interpretation of historical documents, land deeds, and court records. Leora “Lee” Sutton (1917-2018), prolific Pensacola historian, conducted research on the Isaac Wright House and exposed key discrepancies. Sutton’s research revealed that—contrary to information provided in the Historic American Buildings Survey (HABS) regarding Pensacola’s purported oldest remaining building, which indicates the house located at 431 E. Zaragoza Street is situated on Lot 21 and is associated with Carlos Baron—the Isaac Wright House is in fact located on Lot 23, and no discernable historical records indicate an association with the aforementioned Baron.

During the early 19th century, land deeds were not required to be recorded at the Escambia County Court House, making historic architectural research in Pensacola a bit difficult. Miss Sutton, however, worked closely with Herschel Richards, who purchased the Isaac Wright House in 1944, to fill in the gaps created by inadequate land deed record keeping. Mr. Richards possessed deeds dating back to 1846, when Don Francisco Moreno (1792-1882)–prominent Pensacola banker, politician, and businessman–owned the cottage. Through her efforts, Sutton was able to recognize an apparent error in HABS records—records that associated this iconic property with Lot 21 and a man named Carlos Baron.

Without rehashing the long list of property ownership, I will say this: even a cursory glance of historical documentation related to the Isaac Wright House will reveal that being an historian is much like being a detective. History is not always as it seems. What is clear may not be true. Historians must piece together artifacts much like a puzzle, and, in the same vein, the final product cannot be contrived—the pieces cannot be forced. The mysteries of history are what fascinate me and going to the archives and getting my hands dirty, so to speak, is exciting. Give it a try; you may very well fall in love with history as well.


Leora Sutton to Mr. Newton, Dr. Schaeffer, and Linda Ellsworth, May 22, 1970, Pensacola Historical Society.


Written By Katherine Imogene Youngblood
Posted on
Categories: The Beached Mermaid

My momma hated them. My dog loathes them even more so. Actually, I love them, especially if I can stay home and read a great book. I’m referring to thunderstorms, of course. Florida is ripe with them if you haven’t noticed. It’s one of the blessings of living here. Yes, a blessing! Don’t you realize that people in other parts of the country must either water their lawn daily or are on rotations and rationing systems? I’m an avid flower-bed planter, flower-lover, and, alas, a flower-killer because when God isn’t watering the flowers, I’m usually not either. So, yes, I’m thankful for our rainfall on most days.

Lightning in Pensacola

However, there is a downside…the danger of being struck by lightning. Have you ever been enjoying a nice day at the beach, relaxing in your reclining surf chair after a leisurely dip in the refreshing gulf…and just when you’re about to drift off, you hear it? KaBoom! You turn to see an ominous, dark cloud north of you. What should you do?

Most of us can remember those moms who panicked in storms, who had us all come inside, turn off the lights, stop all activity (as if we’d personally draw lightning bolts by moving or speaking), and hunker down. Do you remember that? Or perhaps you had a scientific parent, one who taught you to respect the storm but said it was just “clouds bumping into each other” or some sort of explanation like that. Whichever we’ve experienced, most of us carry those early instructions within our psyche. But, really, what are we supposed to do when caught in a thunderstorm?

What are the facts?

According to accuweather.com, Florida is the lightning capital of the U.S. It has much to do with our tropical climate and the fact that we are surrounded by water on three sides. What should you do if a thunderstorm rolls in while you are relaxing at the beach? Guess what? Your mom was right…you need to get inside. If you are at the beach, head for your car. Storms come up quickly and at the beach, you’ll be the tallest thing around, hence, just what a lightning bolt will find. Get off the beach! If that is impossible, get low. Hunker down between the dunes away from the water. The very best place is to be inside a building. The shelters or tents at a campground are not safe; get in either a car or better yet, into a building.

The plans of mice and men… It would be ideal to plan for the weather. But, we all know that this is tricky at best for a Floridian as storms of this sort come up with tiresome regularity. So we do our best, plan for it and be smart. We’ve all heard of the “dog days” of summer, those sweltering hot months of July and August when even the dogs don’t want to be outside. These are the days in which we enjoy the ole AC, a tall glass of tea while we sit and pet Roxy.

So what do you do if you’re driven indoors? Certainly, there are alternatives to outdoor activities, cool things to do inside. Floridians typically have a cache of candles ready in case the electricity goes out and a flashlight or two handy, even now with our iPhones and iPads. I suggest ditching the electronics and experiencing the storm, from the inside. Make it a joy. If you don’t want to read, you can always just sit quietly and listen to the falling rain. There’s always a board game to play with the kids. A rainy afternoon is perfect for Settlers of Catan, our family’s favorite game. Do you play an instrument? I play the piano and it seems more exciting with a storm raging outside. Whatever you decide to do, make sure it is a pause, a rest of some kind. For me, a thunderstorm gives me that pause, permission if you will, to play, create, and rest.