Florida Ghost Stories: A Seasonal Tradition

Florida has no shortage of ghost stories. Along our stretch of the Gulf the stories still rustle the palmettos. This week we are focusing on tales that blend archival fact with front porch folklore. As always, the history is documented. The hauntings are community lore. You can decide what to believe when the lights go out.

The Phantom of the Sarasota Times Building

Rose Phillips Wilson did not ask permission to make history. She owned, edited, and published the Sarasota Times, became one of the first women to register to vote after the Nineteenth Amendment, helping to lead the successful push in 1921 to separate Sarasota from Manatee County. Night workers later told stories of the steady click of heels on empty hallways and the faint trace of perfume drifting through the pressroom. According to "Rose Phillips Wilson: The Original Girl Boss of Sarasota County" by Compass Rose History Experiences, and to Ann A. Shank in "The Sarasota Times was the town’s first Newspaper," Wilson’s influence on the city was profound. If a determined editor ever had cause to keep watching over a town, Rose did.

Slot Machine Specters of Bradenton

During the Depression, coin machines promised quick money to struggling businesses in Manatee County. The Florida Legislature briefly opened the door, then counties moved to shut it. Raids followed, and unlicensed machines were hauled away. In the years since, old bartenders and proprietors have swapped stories about phantom coin drops after closing time and the nervous rattle of a handle that was removed long ago. According to Pamela Gibson’s 1986 article "Florida and the One-Year, One-Arm Bandit," and contemporaneous reporting in the Bradenton Herald, Manatee voters rejected the machines decisively in 1936. Easy money left town. Some say the sound of it never did.

The Haunted Grove of Manavista

On the north bank of the Manatee River, Kimball C. Atwood built what was once called the largest grapefruit grove in the world. There, workers noticed a single limb bearing fruit with an unexpected blush. Inside, the flesh was pink. That mutation became the pink grapefruit so many of us slice for breakfast. Field hands also talked about whispering at the artesian wells and odd lights among the trees on still nights. According to "Pink Perfection: The Story of Pink Grapefruit," and the family history "The Plant Pioneers. The Story of the Reasoner Family, Pioneer Florida Horticulturists and Their Nursery" by Norman J. Pinardi, the horticultural record is clear about where the fruit began. The rest belongs to memory and the dark spaces between the rows.

Whether you hear heels on an empty stair, the clink of lost coins, or a voice by the river, these stories remind us that history is not a closed book in Manatee and Sarasota counties. It is a conversation, sometimes whispered, sometimes louder than we expect. If you have heard a version of these tales, or have one of your own, I would love to hear it.

Next week, we will follow a pirate’s laugh to Siesta Key and listen for the echoes along the old Fort King Road. According to Ben Stahl’s novel "Blackbeard’s Ghost" and to historian Frank Laumer’s long study of the Dade battlefield, the line between legend and history can be thin along our coast. Bring a flashlight.