Safe at home
For 61 years from 1948 to 2008, Vero Beach was a familiar name to baseball fans. Dodgertown was the classic major league spring training site. Then it was gone, and Vero survived.
For 61 years from 1948 to 2008, Vero Beach was a familiar name to baseball fans. Dodgertown was the classic major league spring training site. Then it was gone, and Vero survived.
Better bridges and roads, mosquito control and eventually, the widespread use of air-conditioning, even in public schools, made Vero Beach attractive to new residents during the postwar Baby Boom.
World War II brought permanent changes to the homefront, even to towns as small as Vero Beach in the early 1940s.
Like many latter-day retirees who visit towns up and down Florida’s east coast before deciding to settle in Vero Beach, a Vermonter named Henry T. Gifford checked out Titusville, Fort Pierce and the swamps now known as Miami before moving to Vero in 1887, when it was unnamed, unknown and mostly uninhabited.
Of all the people remembered during the celebration of Vero Beach’s centennial this year, citrus developer and businessman Arthur Mayfield Hill may be one of the most underappreciated.
A couple from Manhattan drove into the picturesque seaside town of Vero Beach and immediately knew the search for a home was over. Having scoured Florida’s east coast for a quiet getaway, their criterion was simple: They needed a place to relax and enjoy the outdoors with family, and Vero Beach seemed like the perfect place to escape from the city.
Take a picture-perfect day. Add a private yacht, a seasoned skipper, a gourmet feast and you have all the ingredients for a fun-filled day of sailing, dining and merrymaking with Sail Moonraker.
Nothing exemplifies ultimate luxury like the mega yachts that quietly make their way up and down the Florida coast and occasionally take harbor in coves from Key West to Jacksonville. These beautiful ships may spend months crisscrossing the oceans, but eventually they must come to port.
One man. One crew. One ship can take on the entire British Empire without a hiccough or regret. However grandiose Bellamy’s assertion may sound today, it was not without sincerity.
In Martin County, there is a historic, scenic, coastal setting that has been a beacon to lovers for more than a hundred years. Situated on a bluff of strikingly picturesque rocks at the southerly end of Hutchinson Island, the Gilbert’s Bar House of Refuge looks out over a vast expanse of aquamarine water that melts into the horizon. A soothing rhythm of white-foamed waves splashing is heard on the rocky coast, while a cool sea breeze calms the senses.
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