In the early days, it took some brave 'soles' to keep the mail moving

The Bon Temps "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." Contrary to what many people think, those words did not originate with the United States Postal Service.

They were etched on the James Farley Post Office in New York City in 1898, but they were derived from a quote by Herodotus, who was inspired by the brave couriers he observed during the Greco- Persian Wars some 2,500 years ago.

Mail delivery in America's last frontier was not without its challenges, although Herodotus might not have seen it that way.

Over land or water, Naples had service

Capt. Charles Stewart wore many hats during his employment by Walter Haldeman, the founder of Naples. One of those hats was as the skipper of the Bon Temp, the steamboat that delivered the mail. Another hat was as the postmaster who received that mail.

And as if that were not convenient enough, the town's first post office (1908) was at Capt. Stewart's house on 12th Avenue South, although it wasn't long before the post office was moved to the end of the pier. Herodotus no doubt would have scoffed at this notion.

Ansel McSwain was the area's first and only Pony Express rider. In the morning, he'd carry the mail to Naples from Bonita Springs, and at night, he'd take the mail back to Bonita Springs. Perhaps Herodotus would have considered saddle sores a hazard of duty.

Mail call at Chokoloskee

A little area near Everglade (today's Everglades City) called Chokoloskee was at first called Comfort, but heaven only knows why. Ted Smallwood, of the now infamous Smallwood Store, took charge of the postal route in 1896 and carried the mail to Chokoloskee to Everglade by sailboat. To announce the mail had arrived, he'd blow a conch shell. So it seems like Mr. Smallwood's biggest concerns could have been chapped lips, mosquitoes and hummingbirds. Hummingbirds? Legend has it that Chokoloskee was so tough that even the hummingbirds had teeth like gators. Herodotus might have given this some merit.

Walking the talk of Herodotus

Every industry has its larger-than-life legends, and James Mitchell "Acrefoot" Johnson fit that bill in more ways than one. I feel certain he would have received a nod of approval from Herodotus.

Mr. Johnson stood about 6-foot-5 (or 7-foot-2, depending upon the storyteller). Luke Wilson, former president of the Desoto Historical Society, talks of him not as a big (relatively speaking) historymaker as such, but as an unforgettable character with size 14 feet and indomitable stamina and courage.

Mr. Johnson carried about 50 pounds of mail on his back from Fort Ogden to Fort Myers twice a week. Instead of using the official postal route, which was about 90 miles by roadway, however, he blazed his own trail through the swamp laden with outlaws, panthers, bears, snakes and his most troublesome critter: inconsiderate folks who never put his boat back in the right spot when they borrowed it.

It's no wonder that his route was dubbed "America's most dangerous star mail route" in the 1860s. Although six Crackers applied for the $26-a-month job, only two showed up for the "throwdown" to compete for the job once they learned of the requirements. Mr. Johnson was one of them. Not only did he arrive at his destination on the same day he set out, he played the fiddle at the dance 'til early dawn. On the return trip the next day he ran into his competition, who was still on the first leg of his route, but on his last leg of stamina. When he heard that "Acrefoot" was on his way back, he quit on the spot. Mr. Johnson had earned the job.

He held the postman's position, and an average 8-miles-per-hour record, for seven years before he was replaced by the only thing that could outrun him in a straight line: the railroad. But when it came to running through briars and brambles, he was unbeatable, as the cattle baron Ziba King found out. Mr. Wilson, the Desoto historian, says that when Mr. King offered Mr. Johnson a ride in his new buggy, the postman declined the offer, saying it would hold him up. So Mr. King made a wager that his buggy could beat the mailman to the destination of the cattle baron's choice. Later that same night, Mr. Johnson accepted payment, much to the disbelief of Mr. King, who then offered "Acrefoot" a chance to go to New York to race. He politely declined, saying he didn't have time for such foolishness. He had mail to deliver.

I wonder if "Acrefoot" Johnson could have been Greek in a past life?

Lois Bolin is the co-founder of Naples

Cultural L a n d scape, a fund at the Community

Foundation of Collier County.

Naples Backyard History is the fund's

educational initiative. For more information,

visit the NBYH Mini-Museum at

1300 Third St. S., call 594-2978 or visit

www.naplesbackyardhistory.org.