Beginning in the early 1950s, the 130 miles of Florida coastline stretching from Panama City to Pensacola were branded as the Miracle Strip. Between those cities, oddities sprang up: goofy miniature golf courses, neon-bedecked motels, reptile farms and attractions that sought to re-create environments ranging from the South Pacific to the ghost towns of the Old West. In total, it was a marketing effort that worked brilliantly. Tourists flocked to the Strip, and now they can return. Author Tim Hollis presents a colorful array of these now-vanished sights, from the garish Miracle Strip Amusement Park to such oddities as Castle Dracula and the Museum of the Sea and Indian.

Beginning in the early 1950s, the 130 miles of Florida coastline stretching from Panama City to Pensacola were branded as the Miracle Strip. Between those cities, oddities sprang up: goofy miniature golf courses, neon-bedecked motels, reptile farms and attractions that sought to re-create environments ranging from the South Pacific to the ghost towns of the Old West. In total, it was a marketing effort that worked brilliantly. Tourists flocked to the Strip, and now they can return. Author Tim Hollis presents a colorful array of these now-vanished sights, from the garish Miracle Strip Amusement Park to such oddities as Castle Dracula and the Museum of the Sea and Indian.

Beginning in the early 1950s, the 130 miles of Florida coastline stretching from Panama City to Pensacola were branded as the Miracle Strip. Between those cities, oddities sprang up: goofy miniature golf courses, neon-bedecked motels, reptile farms and attractions that sought to re-create environments ranging from the South Pacific to the ghost towns of the Old West. In total, it was a marketing effort that worked brilliantly. Tourists flocked to the Strip, and now they can return. Author Tim Hollis presents a colorful array of these now-vanished sights, from the garish Miracle Strip Amusement Park to such oddities as Castle Dracula and the Museum of the Sea and Indian.

"For more than a century, Florida has thrived on its image as an exotic playground. The state was an early innovator in tourism marketing, with fun, colorful, evocative print advertisements designed to reinforce the state's selling points: beautiful weather, clear waterways, citrus, and unique man-made attractions." "Selling the Sunshine State is a scrapbook of bygone brochures, postcards, souvenirs, and photos, all designed to lure new guests and residents to the peninsula. Avid Floridiana collector and cultural historian Tim Hollis's personal collection forms the heart of the nearly 500 color images herein. This lovingly assembled book is arranged according to the state's traditional tourism department regions, such as the Miracle Strip, the Big Bend, and the Gold Coast. This fascinating book opens a window to the lost attractions and sometimes shocking appeals made in promotional material created from the 1920s through the 1970s."--BOOK JACKET.

Since World War II, tourists have flocked to Florida's northwest Gulf Coast and sun and fun spots at Panama City Beach, Fort Walton Beach, and Pensacola Beach. Every year those visitors number in the millions. For those who long to recall how the vacationland appeared thirty, forty, or even fifty years ago, Tim Hollis has written Florida's Miracle Strip: From Redneck Riviera to Emerald Coast. In a style that informs and entertains, Hollis describes the rise of early developments, such as Long Beach Resort, and major tourist attractions, such as the Gulfarium and the Miracle Strip Amusement Park. With heartfelt nostalgia and a dose of tongue-in-cheek, he reminisces on the motels and tourist cottages; the restaurants, such as Captain Anderson's and Staff's; the elaborate miniature golf courses, such as Goofy Golf and its many imitators. He takes a special delight in recovering the memories of those quirky businesses that now exist only in faded photographs and aging postcards, such wacky tourist traps as Castle Dracula, Petticoat Junction, Tombstone Territory, and the Snake-A-Torium. In the book, Hollis examines how this area became known as the "Miracle Strip," and how the local chambers of commerce got so tired of that image that the name gradually fell into disuse. The book is illustrated with a profusion of vintage photos and advertisements, most of which have not been seen in print since their original appearances. For the nostalgia lover, the snowbird, the tourist seeking yesteryear, Florida's Miracle Strip: From Redneck Riviera to Emerald Coast will be a welcome traveling companion.