Lost but Not Forgotten: The Seahorse of Palmetto

Long before it became a symbol of the city, the giant seahorse in downtown Palmetto marked the entrance to a bustling gift shop that welcomed travelers from near and far.

That was back before roadside attractions were polished and predictable, they were wild, curious and, in the case of the Seahorse Gift Shop, just a little bit dangerous.

Ed and Evelyn Winter opened the Seahorse Gift Shop in 1953, transforming a stretch of U.S. 41 into one of the area’s most unusual and beloved roadside attractions .

At a time when traffic moved at a modest pace, drivers had plenty of opportunity to notice the promise of free fresh-squeezed orange or papaya juice. And if that didn’t do the trick, the sight of monkeys pacing at the end of their leashes or a pen of rattlesnakes in the parking lot usually did.

Inside, the Seahorse specialized in shells, carefully crafted into lamps, jewelry and decorative pieces. Workers bleached, polished and assembled each item by hand. One employee, Raymond Varnedore, began by smoothing shells for 50 cents an hour and eventually fell in love with a coworker across the workbench. The two later married, a reminder that the Seahorse wasn’t just a place of business, but of connection .

Still, it was the animals that left the strongest impression.

Ed Winter had a reputation for collecting creatures that others preferred to avoid. Caimans (small alligator-like reptiles) and rattlesnakes filled the property, many of them brought in after startled residents called for help removing an unwelcome guest from their homes. Even local churches relied on Winter to relocate nesting gators so parishioners could safely attend Sunday service .

Then there were the monkeys.

Susie, an orangutan, had a habit of hugging children a little too tightly, sometimes requiring staff to intervene. JoJo, a spider monkey, was another crowd favorite, though no less selective about his companions. The encounters were memorable, if not always comfortable.

And then there was Scarlett.

The scarlet macaw lived at the Seahorse for more than 50 years, charming generations of Palmetto children with her ability to “talk.” Even after the Winters sold the shop in 1966, they kept Scarlett nearby so local families could continue to visit. Her story took a dramatic turn in 1982, when she was stolen and transported to Indiana, only to be returned after authorities tracked her down. Her eventual death, after a raccoon broke into her enclosure, was felt deeply across the community .

For all its charm, the Seahorse could not outlast progress.

Under new ownership, the shop continued operating until 1976, when road expansions to the bridge approaches made way for modern traffic demands. The building was razed, and the towering seahorse that once defined Palmetto’s entrance disappeared from the skyline.

But not from memory.

Decades later, city leaders would revisit the symbol, erect a new waterfront Seahorse statue, a nod to the place that once welcomed visitors with citrus juice, handcrafted shells and a bit of roadside chaos.