Going hog wild for a Florida honeymoon

An old adage about houseguests and fish says that after three days, both begin to stink. When I visit my in-laws in Florida, they solve this problem by stocking up on fish four days before I arrive, hoping I’ll take the hint and spend my time away from their house (while leaving their daughter with them).

I accommodated them as best I could on my latest visit with them, spending a large part of one day somewhere that I feared would stink worse than fish or houseguests – a place called Hog Island.

Okay, I should clarify: The place used to be called Hog Island, back before 1940, because the guy who owned it raised hogs there, while he tinkered with a remedy to expunge the aroma of three-day-old houseguests.

In the late 1930s, Hog Island was purchased by a wealthy Tampa-area real estate wheeler-dealer named Clinton Washburn. His game plan was to turn around and sell it to someone else, but, finding no takers at his asking price, he seemed stuck with it.

The story goes that one day he was lunching with a pal who worked as a editor at Life magazine, and Clinton idly mentioned that, with some work, Hog Island would make a great place for honeymooners.

One thing led to another and by early 1940, Life was in cahoots with Washburn, promoting a contest in its pages – augmented by a Paramount newsreel shown at movie theaters around the country – wherein newlyweds could win free stays on the idyllic Gulf of Mexico gem now renamed “Honeymoon Island.”

Couples had to be married less than two weeks and tell a story in a letter about why they should be picked to loll on Honeymoon’s beaches. (One catch – the just-marrieds had to pay their own travel costs to get there.)

Well, Washburn was swamped with letters. I have no idea if this is really true, or if their letter still exists, but supposedly the applicants included future president Ronald Reagan and Jane Wyman. They weren’t selected; they’d been married longer than two weeks.

To prepare for the visitors, a goodly number of “honeymoon cottages” were built; they were 10 feet by 12 feet wooden structures covered from top to bottom in thatch. Each cottage came with its own rowboat and a gas stove – not in the rowboat, in the hut. They also had a card table, two chairs, a pan, a kerosene lamp, and utensils and dishes. Oh, and a bed. But there was no electricity or plumbing, except in a recreation hall/grocery store, although everyone agreed the wi-fi connectivity was terrible.

The first brides and grooms arrived on March 8, 1940. Life magazine covered their romantic idylls, with a bunch of stagey photos:

• Honeymooners posing in front of cottages named “Love Nest,” occupied by The J. Ernest Burketts of Orlando, Florida, and “Lovey and Dovey,” honeymoon abode of The Wilbur Mansbergers of Momence, Illinois.

• Scenes of the couples’ “first love spats” – Mrs. Curt Birnholz of New York threatens Mr. C.B. with a frying pan; Mrs. Leo Tepfer of Brooklyn has her foot firmly connecting with her man’s derriere as she boots him out of their cottage; a misbehaving groom is pictured cramped inside a small doghouse, complete with the name “Fido” painted on the front.

• The first eight couples are also pictured sitting on the beach canoodling, but they’re posed all clumped together in a space no bigger than one of the 10×12 huts – seems to me you’d wanna do your sweet-nothing-whispering somewhere a little more private! (Interestingly, the caption to this picture is “Making love on the beach.” But NOT in the way “ making love” means today!)

A total of 164 couples enjoyed the spoils of winning the Honeymoon contest, up until December 7, 1941. World War II changed things fast, and Honeymoon Island was leased to an Ohio defense contractor, who used the northern end of the island to test an amphibious vehicle being built for the war effort.

After the War ended, the island lay pretty much dormant, until finally becoming a Florida State Park on – just a coincidence? – December 7, 1981.

In 1991, newspaper articles recorded that 15 of the Honeymoon Island couples returned for a 50th-anniversary visit. Most of them said little to reporters (too busy making love on the beach), although there are quite a few quotes from Althea Meyer and her husband, Fido.

TakeFiveT5@yahoo.com