My mother, who was born in 1908, used to talk about a Panama City and a beach most of us havent heard about. Below is a picture of the Nealey family farm in the 50s, a few miles south of Graceville on Hwy. 77. Each fall in the 1920s, after the crops were in, the family would drive to Panama City in mule drawn wagons and camp out there on the barren beach for a couple of weeks. Their vacation back then, was to fish every day and salt them down to supplement their diet over the winter. The water, she said, smelled like sulfur and the land sold for as little a 25-cents an acre. No one had money and no one wanted the place. A different time. A different place.
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 20:37:53 +0000
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