Heaven and Hell, Part Two.

Local legends are often colorful, shocking, and sometimes completely ludicrous. Recently, during my honeymoon stay on Florida’s forgotten coast I have stumbled upon an interesting collection of State Parks and Nature Preserves steeped in folklore and legend. Heaven and hell, not only exist, they do so within miles of one another.

Presenting Elvy E. Callaway’s Garden of Eden:

43 miles outside of Florida’s state capitol lies the Apalachicola Bluffs and Ravines Preserve. This preserve is home to some of the world’s rarest plant species. Trees such as the Torreya taxifolia exist nowhere else on the planet. This “stinking cedar,” nicknamed for the strange odor emitted when it is cut, has long been called the gopher wood. Could this be the same gopher wood that is mentioned in Genesis?

According to secular lawyer turned 1936 Gubernatorial candidate turned Baptist Preacher, E. E. Callaway, it is. Callaway maintained that not only is this area the Garden of Eden in which God created man, it is the site of Noah’s famous foray into ship building. Local author, Malcolm R. Campbell, who apparently during his high school years exchanged dueling letters to the editor in the Tallahassee Democrat with Mr. Callaway about the legitimacy of the Eden claim, is not so sure. However, he admits to having difficulty arguing with a man who had spent 75 years researching the location of the Garden and who’s logic was surprisingly sound. In Callaway’s 1971 book, In the Beginning he presents his case. The book which is out of print and increasingly difficult to find maintains (thanks to Mr. Campbell’s blog):

  • The Biblical garden contained a four-headed river system; the Apalachicola-Chattahoochee River system is the only four-headed system in the world. (Chattahoochee, Hiddekel, Spring Creek, and Flint.)
  • The site features gopher wood, officially known as the rare Florida Torreya (torreya taxifolia) that grows only within a 25-mile radius of the area near Bristol, FL.
  • Twenty-eight of the thirty varieties of trees mentioned in the Bible can be found at the location promoted by Callaway.
  • Onyx and bdellium (pitch) as mentioned in the Bible can also be found along the river.

The theory, though controversial, caught on in and around the small town of Bristol, FL. Locals begin promoting the preserve as the surefire Garden of Eden. They erected signs directing visitors to holy sites and an information kiosk. The signs no longer exist, but photographs in the Florida Memory Photographic Collection document the strange attraction well.

In a charming bit of travel writing I found by author Rory MacLean, on the website travelintelligence.com, he relates the story of a Bristol resident taking him on a tour of the holy garden. The author admits to an emotional feeling upon visiting the site and admits that the area is special whether or not it is the actual garden. That what is important is “that locals believed in its existence. Or wanted to believe in it.” MacLean’s guide even offers the hearsay, “if you check the tides and currents of the oceans that was probable at that time, you’ll find that they’d carry a vessel without a rudder straight from Bristol to Mount Ararat

In an article for the Orlando Sentinel, Kate Santich reveals that, “This habitat was created at least 14,000 years ago, during the Ice Age, when flora and fauna from northern climes moved south. As temperatures warmed up again, though, those species mostly disappeared except in these ravines, where it stays moist and cool. As a result, the Garden of Eden looks and feels like no other part of Florida.”

Though no one has any hope of proving the Garden of Eden is in Florida, Mesopotamia, or non-existent, everyone seems to agree that this patch of paradise is exceptional. It’s uniqueness may not be proof positive that Adam’s nostrils were breathed to life on the banks of the Apalachicola River or that the rare gopher wood was carved into the great Ark of Noah, but it most certainly inspires it’s visitors.

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Heaven and Hell, Part One

Song by Will McLean from the album Broadside Ballads, Volume 6: Broadside Reunion

Local legends are often colorful, shocking, and sometimes completely ludicrous. Recently, during my honeymoon stay on Florida’s forgotten coast I have stumbled upon an interesting collection of State Parks and Nature Preserves steeped in folklore and legend. Heaven and hell, not only exist, they do so within miles of one another.

Presenting the interesting case of Cebe Tate’s Hell:

The popular image of hell is that of a fiery furnace of torture and suffering where the damned spend an eternity in atonement. Depending on various beliefs and mythologies, it is populated by demons and devils, ferrymen and gods. Since childhood one of my favorite Greek myths involves the three-headed, devil-dog, Cerberus, of Hades’ underworld, a guardian tasked with keeping the dead from ever escaping back through the river Styx. It is also the namesake of Cebe Tate.

The network of tributaries to the Apalachicola Bay between the Apalachicola and Ochlockonee Rivers form a vast swamp, an ecological wonder with vast and diverse wildlife including several endangered species. This swamp is christened with the colorful, albeit frightening, moniker Tate’s Hell. Legend has it that in 1865 a cattle farmer ventured into the swamp near his farm and resurfaced ten days later and twenty-five miles from home. He had been drinking the swamp water to curb his thirst and was losing his mind from the complications of a water moccasin bite. He stumbled his way into the town of Carrabelle and collapsed at the feet of two strangers. He said, “The name’s Tate and I been through hell.” He also reportedly repeatedly mumbled warnings of a demon cat in the swamp before his death moments later.

Why would a man walk twenty-five miles through a swamp? The answer is simple, revenge. I have seen many versions of the Cebe Tate story since I became interested in this oddly-named State Forrest, but the must detailed and exciting account comes from the local magazine, Must See. Author, Daniel Anderson, reveals that Cerberus Tate was nearly killed by cats while sleeping in his crib as an infant. At the age of six his eyes were nearly scratched from his face by a kitten he had “taken a shine to.” Over the years Cerberus developed a hatred of cats he learned to associate with his name. His hatred became his demise.

As an adult Cebe Tate took over the family cattle farm and all headaches associated. One summer the livestock starting going missing one by one. Cerberus begin posting watch at night and caught sight of a panther dragging a calf into the swamp. He took it personally. Against his better judgement he released the dogs and ventured off into the swamp with only a shotgun and the clothes on his back.

That is when it all went to hell. Within hours they came upon the calf’s half-eaten carcass. The dogs got the scent and tore off through the swamp. Cebe struggled to keep up. Before he knew it he was deep in the swamp, the twisting waterways turning into a labyrinth before his eyes. By nightfall the dogs had cornered the panther, but this cat would not go quietly. It struck Cebe’s best dog. The other dogs scattered. Cerberus raised his shotgun and fired but at too great a distance. The panther escaped into the brush leaving Cerberus to tend to his fallen companion. That night he dug a shallow grave at his makeshift campsite. He vowed to “see the swamp devil dead.”

The next day Cerberus stopped to rest under a tree. A poisonous water moccasin had the same idea. Cebe sucked out as much of the venom as he could, but he needed help. He had to get out of that swamp. Not being a fool, Cebe knew if he just followed the sun he would make it out of that forsaken swamp. However, the cards were stacked against old Cerberus. A fog crept in. It would not lift. He wandered the swamp for days, eaten alive by the mosquitoes and biting flies. The snake venom pulsed through his veins. Thirsty and desperate, he took to drinking the brackish water of wetland.

The panther calling in the dark plagued his sleep. The fog, his days. Cerberus Tate was in hell. Ten days he wandered the swamp. The tenacity of his hatred for the “swamp devil” was the only thing that drove him onward. He made it out. The little town of Carrabelle where his uncle ran the post came into view on the horizon like the light at the end of a tunnel. Cerberus uttered his famous line and became immortal.

202,437 acres of land now bare his name. I wonder what became of that panther?

Tate’s Hell State Forrest