Amelia
Now first wrote about Sara Alice Broadbent, one of the area's most colorful characters, in
1988. Sara Alice lived on Crane Island, just south of the Shave Bridge, throughout the
first half of the 20th century. She died under mysterious circumstances in 1952, when her
home was destroyed by fire. However, her body was neither recovered or identified from the
remains of the fire. No death certificate was ever issued, adding to the rumours that
perhaps she survived the blaze.
Recently, thanks to Mr. Louis Zelenka of the Jacksonville Public
Library, we have received more information about the reclusive Sara Alice and her strange
lifestyle. The following notes were written in 1940 by Mrs. Alice Youngblood, who was
lucky enough to spend several hours talking with the normally-reserved Sara Alice. Enjoy!
Alice Broadbent - 62 years old, never has worn shoes, goes barefooted
all the time. Description: almost 5'3" - medium size, coarse black hair (just a few
gray hairs) pushed back behind her ears - bangs, hair about to shoulders, brown eyes,
weathered skin always cleansed with homemade potash soap. Very high color on cheekbones -
salmon pink, nose also. Very wide mouth, few broken but very strong teeth, cracks pecans
with them.
Figure - very nondescript as she wears loose sack-like dresses made of flour sacks,
bleached white, buttons might have been picked up here and there, sleeves between hand and
elbow. Small, rough, sandy feet, very wide at toes. Never wears woolen garments of any
kind - no sweaters, coats or anything, says "too many bugs get in woolen, so I always
wear cotton," probably thicknesses when very cold.
Lives on Island alone. Lived there with her father until about 10 years
ago (?) think - check time. Very few people have ever seen her - not over 10 people
(think?) have ever been on Island. Crane Island separated from Amelia Island by marsh over
which one can walk at low tide - no other approach except by boat and they don't dare
land. No walk or bridge or anything just footpath thru woods and over marsh.
I was fortunate enough to meet her this afternoon. Found her sitting on
the damp ground with her bare feet hunched up in front of her. Sack-like (very clean)
white dress made of heavy white sack - never wears hat. She was at place near Amelia where
my husband keeps some of his hogs. He is one of the few people she will talk to - or even
speak to. I was almost afraid to approach for fear she would leave. She is very
unapproachable and very proud. Works for a few old timers in the field - will not take any
money only produce, vegetables, etc. I approached her with utmost diplomacy. May I digress
and state that I believe I can get near characters - can talk to them because I feel sure
a great interest - not because they are characters but because they are not like run of
the mill people we meet every day. So much more interesting, so human. I sat on the ground
beside her, we talked. I did not try to draw her out. I did not question her, I did not
appear overly interested, I knew that like most, well, wild (only description I can think
of) creatures she must be allowed to feel very natural. She talked. From the talk and from
all I've gathered I judge she has lived on the Island (Crane) always. She mentions things
that happened 50 years ago, as if it were yesterday.
Local people still speculate on the disappearance
of Sara Alice Broadbent.
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Curses, often and interestingly, many hells and damns, but it was not
profanity, mentioned "my damned foot is this long" - as she scraped in the
ground around her feet.
Said "I am very curious about smells - my sense of smell is too strong" - also
"I stopped going to church because of the stink" - she is a wild-woods creature
and probably the various scents and odors of powder, perfume, etc. might have
"stunk" to her, used as she is to the lovelier smells of her wild and flowering
Island.
She mentioned the fact there were too many words in the dictionary, that
it, as well as the Bible, contradicted itself.
Her father must have been English as she speaks very broad cockney
English - does not sound her "h's" - "ouse" for house,
"orse" for horse, etc. When I mentioned that she was English - she looked at me
very calmly and with a certain withdrawal, and said, "Think so? I don't" - I
know that I had trespassed somehow, so for the rest of the time I was on my guard - not at
all inquisitive.
There was a pile of glass bottles that had been collected from cleaning
fields and in other ways, in one corner of the farm, and she asked me what my husband was
going to do with them. I sensed that she wanted them so I said "Want them" - and
she said "yes." Gradually she seemed to gain confidence in me and like me. Told
me when she left that it was the first time she could remember that she had ever "sat
and wasted time" as she was then - I didn't know whether to feel complimented or not.
Whether she might not be rather subtle - I very dull. However, I believe she liked me.
Later, as we walked to the highway, she stopped and picked up small broken bits of glass -
then she told me she was going to melt the glass and see what she could make of it - that
she had collected quite a pile. Says she has an old forge on the place, old and rusty but
that she would try it out.
She asked me if I heard over the radio about 2 years ago where a fire
swept over her Island (Crane or Craney) from one end to the other - I had not. I was
afraid to even question her. Knows far more than I about the laws and taxes, exemptions,
etc. Has been to Tallahassee - said she hadn't paid taxes since her father died and would
never do so.
Mentioned people stealing her dogs and cats - and stamps though she
never mentioned seeing them. It is said when anyone except a few trusted ones approach her
Island she appears from the brush and woods with a shotgun. Some time ago a negro man was
found drifting in his rowboat near Crane Island. He was dead, shot. Some investigations
were made, but it all stopped. Never have proven how or why he was shot. Rumor (such an
ugly thing!) has it that he might have trespassed, and Alice - of the eagle eye and stout
heart - shot him. This is terrible for me to even write - but rumor has it so. A story is
told of her (in her youth and I can imagine that she might have been a pretty creature)
when her father was living and had a few visitors, that while her father and some friends
were hunting one of the men came back to the clearing near the house. Alice was there, he
tried to start a conversation, she was very noncommittal, finally he stated "seems
like a pretty girl like you ought to have a feller" with that she leveled her shotgun
at his head and kept him standing until her father came back. Told her father she'd been
insulted.
Also when her father was living, they went to Jacksonville to sell some
mules. She walked barefoot all the way leading a mule. Her father rode the other and
walked. When they got to Jacksonville a policewoman felt so sorry for her she took up a
collection and bought a pair of shoes, but when she in (I suppose) a patronizing way
presented them, Alice Broadbent very pleasantly told her to wear them herself - she never
had and never would wear shoes.
Crane Island lies between the Amelia River
and the airport, just south of the bridge.
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She said she had an old coin - gold - but it didn't have "In God
We Trust" engraved thereon and she imagined it wasn't worth more than its weight.
When I told her I imagined it might be worth very much more and suggested that she take it
to the bank for valuation, she said "they'd only take it away from me."
She keeps her own well dug, speaks of hard pan clay, etc. and how she
bricks and cements it.
If it were only possible for me to see her again. I'd, well I just can't
imagine what I wouldn't do if I could only visit her island and home. It is a very
peculiar thing - she can't be questioned, and the few people who know her are of the type
if questioned would think you were trying to gain some secret knowledge.
Wonder how I can go about it? I've promised to save bottles and glass
for her. When I left and as we climbed over the barbed wire fence I asked her if we
couldn't drive her part way home. I didn't dare suggest that we drive her to the Island's
edge for fear that she might think I was presuming, and she said "NO! I'm not going
your way, I cut across the field here. Why should you go my way, you don't live that
way!"
And when I said, "Come to see me, I'd be glad to have you
come" - she said "Why? I'm not acquainted with you." I said, "You are
now," and she smiled and was still friendly, in her way, and the last I saw of her
was as she jumped across a wide ditch on the side of the road, and striding barefoot,
confidently and sturdily, through the stickers and blackberry briers and underbrush to the
dense woods bordering the marshland, miles towards Crane Island and home. What a woman!
She does not drink coffee, tea or cocoa, says cocoa is bad for the
heart. Likes sassafras tea. Cooks pears whole with peelings on, with eggplant. Thinks
marsh hens "stink" and only fit for cats. Cooks greens and sweet potatoes
together. Never eats supper, goes to bed "hungry" often, says she feels better.
Thinks marriage is a contract whereby wife gives up all of her liberty,
property rights etc. and gets little in return. She has never married, or even had the
inclination. Friend brings mail, if any, to edge of marsh and she crosses and gets it.
When I told her she should have a radio with battery, she scorned the
idea. Said she wouldn't like it, she might not understand parts and they would not be
repeated whereas records can be played over and over until understood. Says her land was
not a Spanish grant but a Federal one. She walks with a long stride planting her bare feet
firmly on the ground and looks straight ahead, scorning people and things passing, mostly
comes through woods, rarely walks on highways.
Rumor has it that at one time Alice Broadbent was in jail here, because
people rowing or in boats near her Island complained of shots coming very close. Nothing
ever came of it, and she was freed without even a trial I believe. However, what I'm
getting at is this, she refused to eat! Not a hunger strike, but because she refused
"charity." When told the County always gave food to people imprisoned, that it
was her due, she still refused and only ate when the officials gave their word that they
would take payment (vegetable) and they said she continued to send vegetables (when she
was freed) until she paid many times over.
It seems the county officials feeling she was in need, have been sending
small monthly checks. These checks she keeps until she comes in town, maybe for three
months, and then returns them all. This she has done repeatedly.
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