One of the finest historic sites in the country is Maine’s Acadian Village in the Acadian Culture area of Saint John Valley in the northern tip of the state, open from mid June to mid September 12-5pm. Over a dozen buildings were donated and moved here overlooking the river that marks the border with Canada. Due to a penchant for large families, the Catholic agricultural community grew quickly, and many descendants trace their roots back to the rough hewn wooden buildings gathered here. Nearby towns also preserve their Acadian heritage, and the area has a partnership with the national park service.
What makes the place special is that you can walk in each building, including an art gallery, a church, a dentist office, a barber shop and a one room schoolhouse, and, unlike, many historic sites, you can go upstairs too. The tour guide had called in sick, but I was happy to have the place to myself for a while. Many of the exhibits have tags explaining the provenance of each item, and I was able to open a trapdoor to see how water was collected by wooden pipes. Every room seems furnished with authentic pieces evoking the lives and stories of inhabitants long ago.
I have a very old memory of hiking along a railroad bed to an old station in a French speaking village up here, so I believe this area is a revisit for me. But now I come with knowledge of the Acadian or ‘Cajun’ diaspora from Nova Scotia to Louisiana and many other areas, having eaten buckwheat cakes in Quebec, and having danced to Zydeco in the Bayous down south. Evangeline, Longfellow’s epic poem about the 18th century expulsion of the Acadians, strikes me more deeply now that I have grown children. I also have a greater appreciation for the meticulous love required to assemble such a beautifully moving collection of memorabilia from a unique culture that still thrives today, albeit out of sight of those who deny our non-English heritage.
”Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.”
From Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie
Before there was a United States, the Spanish were here first. Over five centuries ago, Spanish explorer Ponce de León arrived in Florida, somewhere near St Augustine. That settlement is older than Plimoth and even older than Jamestowne. Hernando de Soto landed in 1539—at the mouth of Tampa Bay near where Hurricane Milton just landed—, and he led his expedition through what would later become 8 US states. Before the celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month ends on October 15th, we should take a moment to reflect on the deep Hispanic roots of America, reflected in the Spanish names of many of our city, county and state names.
Arizona is ‘Arid Zone’
California is named after a 16th century Spanish fictional island
Colorado was named for it’s rich colors
Florida is ‘Flowery’ since de Leon arrived on Easter, 1513
Montana is ‘Mountainous’
Nevada means ‘Snowy’ in Spanish
New Mexico was part of the Spanish Empire’s reach to Alaska and the Great Lakes
Oregon was first recorded in Spanish
Texas comes from Tejas for ‘Friend’, used to describe Native American allies
And Utah derived from how the Spanish referred to the natives there
The Spanish began European exploration of our country, beginning by funding Columbus. One reason there are Spanish place names throughout the US is due to explorers like De Soto, Coronado, and Cabrillo. How many Americans know that St Augustine is our oldest permanent European settlement? We love Historic Route 66, but do we recognize that such Old Spanish Trails were mapped by Spanish colonizers like de Anza and de Oñate? At El Morro, early settlers carved messages in the rock in Spanish. Spanish speaking traders were at the ancient Casa Grande and at the still open Hubbell Trading Post. 100 years before we gained our Independence from the British, the Pueblo Revolt kicked the Spanish out of what’s now the US southwest. We know that Jefferson bought Louisiana Territory from Napoleon in 1803, but do we know that Napoleon got it from Spain in 1800? Our Midwest roots are both French and Spanish. The Presidio in San Francisco was Mexican for decades before the US Army took over.
And yet for some reason, we persist in ignoring our Hispanic Heritage. The Canadian River flows from Colorado, through New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma, and it was mapped by Governor Oñate in 1601. The river’s most remarkable geographic feature is in Texas, where it runs through Palo Duro Canyon, the second largest canyon in the US, described as a cañada in Spanish. And yet for generations, English speakers have tried finding non-Spanish explanations for the river’s name, such as lies that the French trappers didn’t know any Spanish, didn’t trade with the Spanish there and confusedly thought that the river came from Canada. Ridiculous!
While the ignorant falsely view Spanish speakers as only recent immigrants, in much of the country the Spanish speakers were here first, remaining for generations, even as wars and borders changed their lands from Spain or Mexico to the US. Over 40 million Americans speak Spanish at home, as they have for generations. Spanish speakers and their descendants should be rightfully recognized as founding members of our country, as their experiences and lives here predate English speaking settlers, and Spanish speaking citizens have continued contributing to our country, despite prejudice against them.
Unlike the war-shrine Alamo, the San Antonio, Tumacacori and other missions today are dedicated to peace and understanding. Despite some politicians trying to divide us, the Mexican border has long been peaceful, with disputes negotiated at places like Chamizal above in El Paso. César Chávez organized the first permanent agricultural union in the US, to lift up the lives of millions of people. And when Brown v Board of Education ended segregated schools for African Americans, it also ended segregation for Spanish speaking students at places like Blackwell School in Texas.
We should learn about our Hispanic Heritage and our past discrimination—including tragedies of mob violence and mass deportations—, so that we reject hatred and division. We can be a more just, inclusive and a better society.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
The island itself is off limits, but there’s a viewpoint, a visitor center, some statues, and a rocky cove. The lighter land in the background is Canada. As is often the case in New England, I visited here as a child, although I had forgotten. Rediscovery is rejuvenating.
The French were determined to establish a trading post here in 1604, but the winter killed half of them. One of the survivors was Samuel Champlain, who went on to found Port Royal in Nova Scotia—the first successful colony north of Florida—and Quebec. He also accurately mapped the coastline, opened fur trade with the natives and was de facto Governor of New France.
As befits any mystery, little remains of the fabled Lost Colony of Roanoke Island NC. There is a map, a cross and “CRO” carved in a post, archaeological remains, and various accounts, both trustworthy and not. The fort above is a reconstruction. The English brought explorers, scientists, soldiers and settlers here in a few journeys in the late 16th century, but the location was deemed a failure. There was little metal, poor soil and no deep water port, and several supply ships were lost in the shallows & storms. Most of the expedition returned to England.
It was however an excellent location for piracy with many hidden coves and inlets behind the barrier islands to wait for the Spanish treasure galleons riding the Gulf Stream back to Spain with stolen Aztec and Incan gold. Many of the last colonists here had wanted to land near Jamestown, but their pirate captain dropped them here instead. When war broke out between England and Spain, Queen Elizabeth kept all English ships at home to protect against the Spanish Armada invasion of 1588. So the colonists were abandoned by the Queen for years, while they were expecting supplies within months.
Likely, they became desperate and split up with a group traveling north and others initially staying behind to wait for help. There are reports that some armed men were killed in Native American skirmishes north of here, so those remaining must have decided to go to a nearby island to seek help from the Croatoans whose chief spoke some English and had been a guest of Sir Walter Raleigh in England for 6 months. The colonists were presumed dead by the English at the time, but much later reports of a few blue-eyed Croatoans suggest at least a few survived. And the cross and letters were likely a shorthand way of letting the English know where they were without letting the Spanish know.
I arrived too early to see the stage performance here which starts in June, and I declined to pay admission to tour the Elizabethan Gardens. But the rangers and museum tell the story, along with more stories about piracy—Sir Francis Drake raided St Augustine in 1586 and brought back some Roanoke colonists on his way home—, about the Freedman’s Colony of 1862 and more modern ventures. Coming from New England, I appreciate the efforts to honor our English heritage, such as the monument here to the first English child born in the Americas. Virginia deserves more credit for being the first English colony, after all, Captain John Smith named ‘New England’ after leaving Jamestown and mapping the north east coast. Still, it would be nice to have more information about what happened to the other ethnicities who lived here, especially the Native Americans.
Let’s catch up on where we were in Florida, at this fascinating, multilayered site that preserves not just nature but also native, colonial and freed slave cultures. As I learned here at Fort Caroline, which hosts the visitor center for the preserve, the Timucuan people either were killed, converted or escaped to join other tribes, after contact with the Spanish. But this was once their land (and water). And at the small exhibit in the Ribault Club, a partner site & wedding venue, I learned that thousands of years ago the Native Americans built shell mounds and large, complex rings of shell structures throughout these coastal islands, some of which remain here. So the preserve does help protect Native American archaeological sites, in addition to protecting critical breeding grounds and nurseries for fish, flyways for migrating birds, habitat for endangered wildlife and the plants which literally hold the land together. I saw many different birds on my hike in the Teddy Roosevelt area (above), including wood storks.
These islands (pictured) are the southern end of these low-lying coastal delta islands that run to Moores Creek in North Carolina. The whole area is now known as the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor, where some African traditions and culture survived, and a unique Creole was created, called Gullah in an echo of slave roots in Angola. That culture developed separately from the mainland, since some of the first Africans brought here were free, some slaves purchased their freedom (or their children’s) from the French, Spanish & British who allowed that, and some escaped. Unlike the larger plantations in the southeast, the coastal rice, cotton & indigo sea island plantations were run more loosely, with free time allowed after tasks were completed and many families kept intact.
The complexity of slavery in Florida is revealed in Anna’s story. She was born as Anta Ndaiye, a Senegalese royal, but was captured and sold into slavery at age 13. She was purchased in Havana in 1806 by a planter and trader who promptly impregnated her and brought her to Florida. Five years and three children later, the planter granted freedom to her and her biracial children. Florida was Spanish at the time, and she received her rights under their law. Her nominal husband owned other properties (and had other wives), so he left the management of the plantations near here to Anna. When US rebels tried to seize their property, she burned the plantation and was rewarded with new property by the Spanish. Anna ran the Kingsley plantation here for 25 years, overseeing 100 slaves. Her fourth child was born free. After Florida became a US territory, new laws were passed making interracial marriage illegal and jeopardizing the rights of Anna and her children. So her husband moved the family to Haiti, which had been free since the end of their revolution in 1804. After her husband died, Anna returned to the US to claim her inheritance, which was contested by her husband’s sister, who argued that Anna couldn’t own property in Florida. Anna argued that she was Spanish, since she had been recognized by the Spanish government as free (and a hero) and noted that the US government had promised to protect the rights of all Spanish citizens under the Florida treaty signed by John Q. Adams in 1819. Anna won. She fled to New York for the duration of the Civil War returning to Florida afterwards.
“To deny people their human rights is to challenge their very humanity.”
On the left coast, last week I visited another park dedicated to a Spanish explorer. In 1542, the same year DeSoto died and Coronado gave up searching for gold, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo sailed into San Diego Bay, before also dying on his expedition to explore America. The myth of the seven cities of gold was a powerful draw for the Spanish. Cabrillo was a slaver, who killed Aztecs by crossbow for Cortes and was rewarded with land, mines and enslaved Guatemalan natives. Wanting more, he headed north in ships built by slave labor in order to claim more land and enslave more natives. Cabrillo got as far as the Channel Islands, before dying by accident, and his crew made it as far as Oregon upwind before returning.
The monument is at the end of Point Loma, past Fort Rosencrans National Cemetery, overlooking the Naval Air Station on Coronado Island. Several different 25 minute films play on the half hour, and there’s an interesting old lighthouse to explore. Hiking paths on both bay side and ocean side offer especially beautiful views, and there’s parking near the tide pools and the sea cove connected by a lovely short trail. From the cliffs, I saw large sea lions, numerous pelicans, cormorants and seagulls. It’s a beautiful Navy city with famously great weather, and the Old Town, the Gaslamp District and the Hotel Coronado are among the interesting sights. Hopefully this post fits thematically, even though it is a bit out of trip order and way off geographically.
The French settled on the Atlantic coast of Florida in 1564, a year before the Spanish established the Castillo de San Marco in St Augustine. The French built a fort, but their settlement had fewer soldiers and more crafts people, as they intended to trade with the natives, rather than conquer them. Their relations with the Timucuan people were peaceful and friendly.
But the French intended to stamp out the Spanish newcomers, and the fort sent its troops by sea to take St Augustine. That didn’t end well: see Matanzas. Even worse for the French, the Spanish had the same idea and attacked Fort Catherine while its troops were away. The Spanish sacked the fort, killing 140 civilians and taking over the settlement. Only a few French survivors were spared to serve the Spanish.
The natives didn’t intervene when the Spanish attacked, but when another French force arrived for revenge three years later, the natives sided with the French. In the fighting, Fort Catherine burned down. The current fort is a replica created from old plans, drawings and descriptions, but roughly 1/3 the original’s size. The French lost their foothold in Florida to the Spanish.
In settling colonial claims at the Treaty of Paris in 1763, the Spanish traded Florida to the British for the return of Cuba and the Philippines. With American independence, Florida reverted to Spain, before eventually becoming a US territory in 1821, a state in 1845, then seceding in 1861, and then re-joining the Union in 1868. Florida was part of Spain longer than it has been part of the USA.
My eyes used to glaze over in history class, especially with all the dates, places and people long ago. But now, when I think about how the French differed from the Spanish and British, I realize how those battles centuries ago determined who lived & died, who survived and who thrived. I wonder what could our history have been, if only our ancestors had cooperated peacefully, instead of fighting.
For example, the Timucuan natives were wiped out within 150 years or so, some because the Spanish took revenge on them, some by disease, some who joined neighboring tribes and some who were converted and perhaps assimilated. My DNA is 5% Neanderthal, and I’m glad some of the natives survived somehow and assimilated, rather than disappearing without any trace.
As you approach St Augustine, you may see the signs proclaiming it to be the nation’s oldest city. That’s not true, of course, there are several older, continuously occupied Native American settlements, including Acoma’s Sky City, Taos, Zuni and Oraibi. St Augustine is the oldest continuously occupied city in the US which was founded by Europeans. This euro-centric bias is even more inappropriate when you realize that the fort was used repeatedly by the US military to imprison many Seminole, 74 survivors of the Sand Creek Massacre, and many Apache.
This is my favorite fortress park. Still, too many Americans still haven’t heard of St Augustine, don’t know that the first thanksgiving mass with natives occurred here, that the fort was unsuccessfully besieged by the English (twice) and by the French, and didn’t know that the Spanish were here two hundred years before the US declared independence from England. So, a visit here is bound to be educational. The programs here sometimes include costumed re-enactors, gun firing demonstrations and tours of the various rooms, walkways and defensive lookouts, so it’s fun for kids of all ages. The fort’s strategic location means that it has a beautiful view of the boats traveling through, and years ago my kids enjoyed seeing a nearby museum with pirate treasure.
While the park unit is small, it is excellent, with knowledgeable rangers, many of these photographic outdoor displays, and an easy nature trail with beautiful birds along the Manatee River. There are frequent interactive events here, and the film in the visitor center is particularly well done, covering the important history of De Soto’s exploration and conflict with Native Americans.
The Spanish expedition from 1539 to 1543 was a brutal failure that cost De Soto his life and fortune, and it was his fault. After helping plunder the Incan Empire (Peru) in 1533, De Soto used his stolen gold to bring more Spanish soldiers to Florida to look for more gold. Some of the natives had recent run-ins with similar Spaniards, so they kept telling him, ‘sure, there’s more gold, but it’s a little further north’. Guides who failed to deliver the promised gold were killed. (Coronado was on a similar mission at the same time further west). De Soto took hundreds of natives captive as slaves, gave the women to his men, slaughtered thousands and told the natives that he was a deity, oh, and he brought a Catholic priest (see far right). For years, they marched through the southeast, killing, burning, pillaging, enslaving, raping and spreading disease. Many of the natives fought back, mimicking some of their brutal tactics, including the Chickasaw, who later owned slaves and fought for the Confederacy. After De Soto died of fever, his men gave up on his fruitless hunt for gold and maybe half made it back.
As horrific as that all was, several of the survivors wrote accounts of their first contact with the natives, and some of those accounts provide rare descriptions of the native cultures that existed (until the Spanish arrived). De Soto actually found an interpreter from Seville who had been adopted by a local tribe after his expedition starved to death, but he later died on this new expedition. One survivor’s record clearly states that a nearby shell mound was the foundation for the local chief’s dwelling, proving that the mounds in Florida were not simply middens but were built intentionally as elevated platforms for important people and functions, contradicting the park film at Canaveral. A large mound on this site was removed for building roads, before the park service began protecting them. After all the death and destruction inflicted on the natives, it feels especially cruel to erase the last remaining remnants of their culture without acknowledgement.
This park is the lynchpin of the nation. If it were removed, the whole country would fall apart.
OK, maybe not, but it is an important spot. The domed courthouse above heard the infamous Dred Scott case, which was used by the Supreme Court to take the country backwards, deny people their basic rights and help spark the Civil War. (How times change). The arch represents a gateway to western expansion, facilitated by Jefferson’s Louisiana Purchase in 1803 and subsequently explored by Lewis & Clark from here.
Many factors came together for the territory to wind up as ~12 US states. France traded with the Native Americans who lived there, and all along the rivers there were French communities, from Pittsburgh to St Louis and from Quebec to New Orleans. Shortly before we became independent, Britain declared war on France, used their ships to take Quebec and blockaded Spain from their colonies, and in exchange for peace, they took Canada and Florida, while France kept Haiti and Spain wound up with the Louisiana territory.
That peace treaty didn’t last long. The British heavily taxed the colonists to pay for that war (bad idea), the US declared independence (and won), the slaves in Haiti revolted (and won), Spain secretly gave Louisiana back to France, and France & Spain were preparing to invade England (and lose). Amidst this chaos, Napoleon wanted cash more than colonies that he couldn’t control, and Jefferson wanted to secure the Mississippi and expand our new country. Both sides approached each other to make a deal.
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