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Authors: Julien Ayotte
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coastal waterway that flowed for miles between the beach properties and those more inland. Sean believed that this property would be more valuable to boat owners as an alternative to the more expensive costs of keeping boats at a marina. “Why not park your boat at your own dock, in your backyard,” he would say.
Sean Merrill had arrived in West Palm Beach in 1935 at the age of forty-six. A bachelor who had never seriously worked at any trade for too long, Sean had seen his move to Florida as a new beginning, an opportunity for him to do something on his own. Sean had even driven a delivery truck for Charlie for a while but never saw himself as a potential business owner. His happy-go-lucky attitude and his carefree love for having a good time left him broke most of the time. He had never met the “right” girl until he met Jean Partridge, a quiet but intelligent desk clerk at her father’s motel. Theirs was not a passionate courtship, but one based on admiration for each other’s values. They were wed in 1936, Sean at forty-seven and Jean at forty-two.
Apparently, Jean had inherited her father’s business sense and they began to accumulate more and more property in the Boca Raton area little by little, while both retaining their respective jobs. Glenn Partridge died in a fishing accident five years later in 1941 and Jean was the sole survivor, Glenn’s wife having passed away from cancer before Sean had come on the scene. Sean and Jean Merrill immediately became very wealthy and assumed control of the motel and of her father’s estate, valued at $2.5 million.
As years went by, Sean saw the continuing Florida population growth and suggested to Jean that they consider opening a family restaurant on property they owned adjacent to the motel. By the summer of 1945, the restaurant was completed and ready to be opened. Jean would continue to operate the motel while Sean would oversee the restaurant operation. Chefs, waiters, and a restaurant manager were all hired and plans had been made for a grand opening in early August.
Alice was family, Sean pondered as he drove from his home in Boca toward the West Palm Beach airport some thirty minutes away. Sean would offer Alice any position she wanted at the restaurant or none at all if she decided against working once she settled into the area. Sean had the deepest respect for Alice. She had stuck by Charlie all these years, even though, Sean knew, Charlie had seen some rougher times before he became successful. Sean felt that Alice had sort of been cheated by Charlie’s sudden death and he was determined to do everything he could to make her life as comfortable as possible, even though Charlie would not be around to share it with her.
Flight 349 from Boston was listed as on time as he entered the small terminal at 6:15 p.m. A short while later, Alice and Dick appeared; both carrying warm smiles as Sean greeted them. The flight had been a long silent one for the two of them. The three hours had given each of them time to reflect on the years in New Hampshire while, at the same time, create visions of anxiety and doubt about what lay ahead in the world of year-round warmth and sunshine.
After having settled in at Sean’s home, a four-bedroom sprawling ranch complete with its own boat dock, Dick and Alice slowly began the task of becoming familiarized with not only the area, but the style of living that the residents thrived on. Hospitality abounded throughout the community since the community relied almost totally on catering to its visitors. “Exactly what Alice needs, right now, Dick,” Sean said as they toured the city. “Your mother has been cooped up so long in her kitchen that she needs to be among smiling faces and people, lots of people.”
“I’m not so sure that this isn’t too much of a change for her, Uncle Sean. I don’t know if mom can all of a sudden just relax and shift gears. It’s going to take some time. I don’t know if I can leave her at the
Sean Merrill had arrived in West Palm Beach in 1935 at the age of forty-six. A bachelor who had never seriously worked at any trade for too long, Sean had seen his move to Florida as a new beginning, an opportunity for him to do something on his own. Sean had even driven a delivery truck for Charlie for a while but never saw himself as a potential business owner. His happy-go-lucky attitude and his carefree love for having a good time left him broke most of the time. He had never met the “right” girl until he met Jean Partridge, a quiet but intelligent desk clerk at her father’s motel. Theirs was not a passionate courtship, but one based on admiration for each other’s values. They were wed in 1936, Sean at forty-seven and Jean at forty-two.
Apparently, Jean had inherited her father’s business sense and they began to accumulate more and more property in the Boca Raton area little by little, while both retaining their respective jobs. Glenn Partridge died in a fishing accident five years later in 1941 and Jean was the sole survivor, Glenn’s wife having passed away from cancer before Sean had come on the scene. Sean and Jean Merrill immediately became very wealthy and assumed control of the motel and of her father’s estate, valued at $2.5 million.
As years went by, Sean saw the continuing Florida population growth and suggested to Jean that they consider opening a family restaurant on property they owned adjacent to the motel. By the summer of 1945, the restaurant was completed and ready to be opened. Jean would continue to operate the motel while Sean would oversee the restaurant operation. Chefs, waiters, and a restaurant manager were all hired and plans had been made for a grand opening in early August.
Alice was family, Sean pondered as he drove from his home in Boca toward the West Palm Beach airport some thirty minutes away. Sean would offer Alice any position she wanted at the restaurant or none at all if she decided against working once she settled into the area. Sean had the deepest respect for Alice. She had stuck by Charlie all these years, even though, Sean knew, Charlie had seen some rougher times before he became successful. Sean felt that Alice had sort of been cheated by Charlie’s sudden death and he was determined to do everything he could to make her life as comfortable as possible, even though Charlie would not be around to share it with her.
Flight 349 from Boston was listed as on time as he entered the small terminal at 6:15 p.m. A short while later, Alice and Dick appeared; both carrying warm smiles as Sean greeted them. The flight had been a long silent one for the two of them. The three hours had given each of them time to reflect on the years in New Hampshire while, at the same time, create visions of anxiety and doubt about what lay ahead in the world of year-round warmth and sunshine.
After having settled in at Sean’s home, a four-bedroom sprawling ranch complete with its own boat dock, Dick and Alice slowly began the task of becoming familiarized with not only the area, but the style of living that the residents thrived on. Hospitality abounded throughout the community since the community relied almost totally on catering to its visitors. “Exactly what Alice needs, right now, Dick,” Sean said as they toured the city. “Your mother has been cooped up so long in her kitchen that she needs to be among smiling faces and people, lots of people.”
“I’m not so sure that this isn’t too much of a change for her, Uncle Sean. I don’t know if mom can all of a sudden just relax and shift gears. It’s going to take some time. I don’t know if I can leave her at the
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