Cincinnatian by birthright, I grew to adulthood at Dayton, Ohio, admiring a journalist I called Dad. My father edited news the old fashion way – making certain what he wrote was accurate. Dad loved history as well, particularly Cincinnati history, and I feel certain that by the time I reached voting age, I knew more about Cincinnati Ohio’s history than most counterparts.

Nothing aggravated Dad more than inaccuracies in stories of yesteryear, or worse, a history time line that simply didn’t make sense. I have little doubt a similar trait of mine was inherited directly from the writer I most admired – my Father.

I arrived in Florida Christmas Day 1971, a hundred years to the day, I later learned, from the day John Otto Fries’ arrived in central Florida. Decades passed before I learned of the Swedish immigrant, a precision surveyor whose work I routinely rely on today, but with this precautionary postscript. Fries was a precise land surveyor, but a horrible speller.

Observations as a youth, I’m convinced, laid a foundation for my obligation as a history researcher, trust information only after you take the necessary time to verify it.

Like Fries, I knew nothing of central Florida’s rich history when I arrived, but wanted to discover as much as possible about my new home. My curiosity however did not focus on such history as the 1950s Tee-Pee motel on the "Trail", but rather how Orlando really came to be. Why was the town established at its most unusual location? Who named Lake Ivanhoe and why? Was the daughter of Anheuser Busch’s beer empire really central Florida’s Duchess of Castelluccia?

The last half of the 19th century was a fascinating period in the story of central Florida, a time and place often described as an American Paradise, and the period during which my research and writing centers. This was a time of amazing people - men and women - who endured remarkable triumphs and tragedies.