For Sale —American Paradise Read Free Page A

into their pants pockets and jingled their loose change. But the coins they fingered on that day in 1925 were quite different from those of today. There were fewer coins with presidents, for starters—no Jefferson nickel or Roosevelt dime or Washington quarter. Lincoln was on the penny, but he’d only been there since 1910, so there were still lots of pennies with the profile of an Indian chief on them.
    Instead, the men jingled nickels with an Indian head and a buffalo on them, and everything else—quarters, half- dollars, and dollars, all made of silver—showed Lady Liberty in some form.
    The silver dollars—heavy, and nearly the same diameter as a golf ball—were magnificent coins, and in 1925 one of them had the purchasing power of more than $12 in twenty-first-century dollars.
    The crowd greeted Bryan with generous, prolonged applause, and as he waited for it to subside he looked out over the faces gazing expectantly up at him. In his somber dark suit, floppy bow tie, and gleaming black shoes, Bryan was the embodiment of the stern nineteenth-century morals that still tugged at the sleeve of American society in the 1920s.
    Edwin Menninger, who was editor of the South Florida Developer in nearby Stuart, had been breathlessly chronicling Florida’s roaring boom in the pages of his newspaper, and he’d been a leader in Stuart’s successful effort to create a new county on the St. Lucie Inlet. The turnout and festivities in Vero Beach impressed Menninger, but he felt certain that Stuart would outdo this gathering in January when the town hosted the celebration for the creation of Martin County, named after Florida governor John Martin. As bright and promising as Indian River County’s future seemed, Martin County’s was even brighter, as far as Menninger was concerned. People and money were pouring into Stuart, and plans were being laid that would propel the little town to greatness.
    The applause faded, and Bryan began to speak. He started with a self-deprecating quip about his futile campaigns for the White House. He noted that the previous speaker, T. J. Campbell, had been introduced as the next state senator from Indian River County. “I hope the prediction of the man who introduced Mr. Campbell is more reliable than were those of the men who introduced me as ‘the next president,’” he said.
    When the chuckling subsided, Bryan told his listeners that he’d learned a lot about Florida during his campaign to become a delegate to the 1924 Democratic National Convention. He expected to learn more about the state in the coming months, and promised to tell as many people as he could what a wonderful place it was. “This year I am going to every tourist city in which they will let me speak and tell the tourists who are there that Florida is the greatest opportunity of this generation,” he said.
    Bryan then began preaching his now-familiar gospel of the glittering future that lay ahead for Florida. It was a classic Bryan oration, full of noble, uplifting ideals and flowery phrases.
    â€œWe are sometimes asked, ‘When will Florida’s prosperity fail?’” Bryan said. “My answer is, ‘Not until the sunshine fails and the ocean breezes cease to carry healing in their wings.’”
    But Bryan also wanted residents of his adopted state to use its gifts for more than just enriching themselves. “I want us to make Florida the nation’s leading state in material wealth and prosperity and also first politically, intellectually, and morally,” he said. “God has blessed the state of Florida as he has blessed no other state in the union, and for this reason, if for no other, we should remember Him in all that we do.”
    As Bryan mingled with the crowd after his speech and waited for his helping of barbecue, Edwin Menninger walked up and introduced himself. The eager young editor quickly outlined some of the wonderful