February 11, 2021
Also known as the Gonzalez-Alvarez House, the Oldest House Complex vividly monumentalizes St. Augustine colonial history. The oldest house in Florida, the complex tells the stories of the Spanish and then British families who lived there. The complex itself dates back even further than the building, to the 1600s. The current house was completed in 1790. The stark contrast between the first floor and the second reflect the contrasting lives of the families that dwelt there. Originally, when Tomas Gonzalez y Hernandez lived there, the house was just the rectangular first floor. Now the windows have glass panes, but originally they were open with wooden shutters. The fire-pit at the center of the room would have provided smoke to repel mosquitoes which plagued early settlers. The rooms are built of coquina and plastered with lime and whitewash. The second family to live at the Oldest House was the family of a British soldier, Sergeant-Major Peavett. Peavett added the second story. The last family to dwell in this home was the Alvarez family. Geronimo Alvarez renovated the home to its current state. The St. Augustine Historical Society acquired the complex in 1918. Since, they have studied, maintained and preserved the site. The St. Augustine Historical Society's mission is "to acquire, preserve, and interpret the historical resources of St. Augustine and its sphere of influence for the benefit of the public through its stewardship of historic buildings and collections, research, publications and eduction programming."
Click here to access the National Park Service website where I obtained this information and where you can read further about this site.
Artifact 1: Wooden Paneling on the Second Floor Walls
In one of the rooms on the far side of the upper story, the walls are paneled with this deep brown wood. At first glance, it seems like a design choice. However, this wood was salvaged from an old church that was torn down. Peavett saved the wood and made it part of his home. Knowing this changes the atmosphere of the room, giving it a solemn and heavy presence. It is also a tangible reminder of the mix-matched history of this site. The pieces of three families' lives are patched together in this space, much like the hundreds of stories that are stitched into the history of St. Augustine itself. Tragically, some stories are left untold--even brushed aside--while others are given a prominent place to shine. However, the Historical Society is working to uncover more stories to share with our community.
Artifact 2: Bed of General Hernandes
The furnishings that fill the Oldest House are not original to this location. This piece from 1825 was once the bed of General Hernandez, who is remembered for capturing Osceola. This bed--and the other pieces that fill the rooms--illustrate the collaborative nature of preserving and sharing history. The Historical Society works with communities and museums around the country to create spaces like this bedroom. Research and academic work is not an isolated process--it takes teamwork.
Photos of the Exterior and Complex Grounds:
This is a water jar that the Gonzalez family would have used to collect rain water. The arches in the background are a beautiful coquina passageway connecting two of the complex buildings.
Photos in Conversation with the Site:
(image source link: https://projects.wuft.org/peakflorida/graves-of-the-enslaved/ )
During our discussion at the Oldest House Complex, Professor Vigliotti talked about the St. Augustine Historical Society's research on the location of slave quarters on the Oldest House property. Because there are little to no records about where these quarters would have been located or about the slaves living in them, this information was very difficult to uncover. Like the Oldest House Complex, Fish Island on Anastasia Island--in St. Augustine--has much to uncover about the lives of African slaves in Florida. Fish Island was once the location of the first commercial orange grove in Florida, owned by Jesse Fish. Fish had over 100 slaves on his extensive plantation between the years 1752 and 1763 (the First Spanish Period). These slave burials are important, because they tells about Protestant slaves who could not be buried in the Catholic Tolomoto Cemetery. Recently, Fish Island was making local headlines as community members joined together to protect it from becoming a housing development. Thanks to their efforts, the State of Florida purchased the land, and it is now a preserve. For more information about Fish Island's history click here. If you would like to read more about the Fish Island case click here. Here is a photo of the island today:
Creative Component
This is a Prismacolor pencil drawing of indigo-stained hands. Beneath are indigo leaves to reinforce this idea. As we discussed the Minorcans' struggles at the New Smyrna plantation, I was struck by the image of the indentured servants' blue-stained skin. They were marked by the indigo trade both mentally and physically--the blue stains being a physical indication of their inward marks. We often associate blue skin with death or a lack of oxygen. So, to me, blue-dyed skin has a cold, dead connotation. While the Minorcans' hopes for a better life in the New World were crushed by Turnbull's cruel dishonesty, the hopeful glow and vigor of their skin was replaced by deathly blue pallor.
--Upon further research, I found that the indigo vats were not likely located at Turnbull's plantation. I also discovered that it was black slaves--not indentured servants such as the Minorcans--who would have processed and been dyed by the indigo. However, I wanted to keep this creative response in my archive, because it still represents my thinking and response to this site visit.
ENG 202 Connection:
"I lost an arm on my last trip home. My left arm. And I lost about a year of my life and much of the comfort and security I had not valued until it was gone."
-Octavia Butler, Kindred (p. 9)
Though this scene appears at the opening of Butler's novel, it is the final scene. Dana has been through so much, seen so much, and lost so much at Weylin's slave plantation. Her amputated arm is a kind of stigmata: a physical marking that represents much deeper wounds--be they spiritual or mental. The Minorcans were also marked--marked by the whip and stained blue by indigo. Like Dana, they lost the life they once had forever. They sailed across the sea with bright hopes and dreams for the New World, only to be treated as slaves. They escaped their captors, but they did not escape whole--so many loved ones died and so many horrors stained their memories.
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