Ronnie Dee--The Pioneer House

The Pioneer House

How I Came To Live In A Museum

Ronnie Dee

(c) Copyright 2025 by Ronnie Dee

Photo by Dominic Chasse on Unsplash

My first near-death incident occurred when I was a toddler. It was 1939 and I was battling a bout of asthma and had been placed in my crib with an atomizer to give off steam. An army blanket had been placed over the top of the crib to keep the steam inside. Somehow the blanket caught on fire and I can vaguely remember heat and a lot of commotion and somebody grabbing me out of the crib. Luckily my mother had been in the room or had just come in the room when the fire started and she yanked the blanket off of the crib and grabbed me.

Now I know it is popular belief that a person will think they actually remember an event if they are told about it enough times, but I remember a number of things that happened before I was four that had never been discussed. I remember a lot of what happened in Goldville, and I was only two. That was the year I developed double pneumonia and was in grave danger for several days before getting better and completely recovering. I recall none of this, but I have read of some of my relatives' concerns in old letters I found years later. One of them was in a box of old letters I discovered just a few years ago. It was a letter to my grandmother from my uncle Kenny. Momboo worked for several winters for some friends we knew in Fort Lauderdale, Florida as cashier in their restaurant. He had kept her apprised of my illness and I guess I had nearly recovered, as he noted in the letter, "Ronnie is being as bad as ever."

I do know one thing that irritated the adults around me; I would not eat my vegetables. I would sit at the table for hours in the semi darkness, steadfast. I did not like vegetables and I wouldn't eat them, ever. I still don't eat many. I will eat several varieties of beans and corn, sauerkraut on occasion and a slice of ripe tomato on a cheeseburger once in a while, and that is it. I would sit there until bedtime if necessary and they would sometimes relent and let me have dessert because, "at least it is something to eat." The whole kitchen staff would chip in and make "boats" and "airplanes" out of the veggies and zoom them around and try to "fly" them into my mouth. I didn't have any part of that nonsense.

I have heard references to my unruliness and stubborness as a child and this kind of upset me. I didn't realize I was that much of a problem child, but I do recall getting several threats of being sent to the "bad boys home," and one terrifying half-hour when I thought it was actually happening.

One of the strangest and most frightful incidents of my young life happened when we lived in Fort Lauderdale. My grandmother and mother, along with my sister and I, were living above The Pioneer House Restaurant, a popular eating establishment in Fort Lauderdale. The building had actually been a trading post in Seminole country in the 1800's.

Our friends leased the place from Mrs. Ivy Stranahan, whose husband had actually built the place as a trading post. The restaurant was built off of the back of the house without damaging the original structure. It took up the space between the house and the New River at the southwest corner of US 1 and Las Olas Boulevard, right before the drawbridge on US1. Mrs. Stranahan remained in the house in an apartment on the top (3rd) floor. It is the oldest building in Broward County and is now dwarfed by tall, modern buildings all around. It's sad.

The Blackwell family, who leased the building from Mrs. Stranahan, retired circa 1978. The restaurant closed in the early 1980's. Mrs. Stranahan died in the early 1970's and with the Blackwell's demise, the city took it over and eventually the restaurant was demolished and the building was listed on the National Registry of Historic Homes and turned into a museum. They give tours and my nephew and his wife visited it a few years ago and really enjoyed it. The museum employees freaked out when he told them that his mother and uncle lived there in the 1940's.

Mrs. Stranahan was a nice lady. She liked my sister and me and took us to the Seminole Indian Reservation where she taught school. That was a neat experience.

Our living/sleeping quarters were on the second floor. My grandmother was the cashier and my mother was a waitress. I was four years old and my sister was nine. She took pretty good care of me while they were working and we usually stayed upstairs during their evening working hours.

I loved living at The Pioneer House. It was big and roomy and we even had a playroom. I could wander into the kitchen and get something to eat whenever I wanted. The Blackwell's children, a boy and girl along with my sister and me, had frequent burping contests. I wanted to win one badly, but I never could. Cokes were taboo, but we could drink all the 7Ups we wanted. We drank a lot of 7Ups and whoever belched first was the winner. After a long time, I finally won a burping contest. Did I ever.

One morning I chugged down my 7Up as fast as I could and let out a huge, loud belch and it immediately went up my nose. I thought I was going to die. My eyes were watering, my face reddened, I was spitting and sputtering and the other kids were rolling with laughter. After a half hour, I began to believe I would make it and I never cared about winning another contest.

Ed Blackwell had a motorboat that was docked a little way down the pathway. They owned an original Woody, a Ford I think, and Ed would sometimes ride on the running board on the short jaunt back home. I thought that was great and I so wanted to do it, but they wouldn't let me. My best friend during our stay was Ching-Bear, their beautiful chow dog. Ching and I formed a life long friendship and he still remembered me years later when I saw him again when they made a trip to Louisville.

One fine evening, one of the servers brought her daughter to work and asked if she could "play" with my sister and me while she was working. Everybody agreed and upstairs we went. I don't know where Ching was that night because he was usually with me. The girl turned out to be a fourteen year old psycho. We no more than got to our room when she locked the door and threw the key out of the window, then decided she wanted to tie me up. She half-way did, then produced a cigarette she had copped from her mom's purse and lit it up and began blowing smoke all around the room. Then she thought it would be neat to start a fire in the room, so she began ranting about something and lit a fire in the wastebasket. We were screaming for help and that is when she brandished a knife and started threatening us.

The fire in the wastebasket began to grow and she started screaming about burning the whole place down, but I believe she frightened herself at this point, because she picked up the wastebasket and flung it out of the window, joining the key somewhere below. Our room was at the opposite end from the restaurant and I thought it was curtains for us, as my sister was no match for her physically.

Someone finally heard our cries for help and began banging on the door. At that, she suddenly calmed down and was going to try to climb out of the window and jump to the ground to look for the key that she "accidentally" dropped but we talked her out of that one. Panicked, she swore she was just kidding with us and meant no harm.

By this time I had loosened my ropes, but was none-the-less terrified of this maniac. The Pioneer House came closer to going up in flames than anyone realized. I can't remember who got the door to open or what happened to the pyromaniac, but thank God, we never saw any more waitress' children.

The Pioneer House survived that night, but the restaurant area eventually became a small park behind The Stranahan House. I don't remember any life threatening events for a long time after that one during the rest of my childhood. Not to say there wasn't a lot going on.