Lake Clarke Shores

The first people to set their sights on the area, however, go back to the early 1900's.

Pineapples promised big business in South Florida. John Clarke, son of a Palm Beach pioneer, had the money to buy five acres of land just south of the present Hillcrest Cemetery on Parker Avenue. There he planted pineapples and built a packinghouse to prepare the fruit for shipping to northern cities. An agricultural blight and Henry Flagler's railroad destroyed South Florida's pineapple farms. When the railroad extended to Key West, Cuban "pinas" could be loaded and shipped to northern markets more economically.

By 1915, Clarke, like most others, abandoned his crop. Clarke's other businesses, including building the first shaft-driven car in Pennsylvania, kept him from spending the entire season in Palm Beach. But when he was here, his tract of land was a perfect getaway. An avid fisherman, he could escape the pressure of business by catching all the bass and bream he wanted in the lake on the western edge of the land. He named that lake "Lake Clarke", and with no one else around who much cared what it was called, the name simply came to be.

Florida Governor Napoleon Bonaparte Broward would transform Clarke's lake in 1917. Broward thought he could drain the Everglades by cutting a few little canals from Lake Okeechobee to the ocean and he convinced the legislature to pass a comprehensive drainage law. Lake Clarke suffered. When the canal locks were opened a the spillway between Lake Worth and West Palm Beach, the lake's water level dropped eight feet. The 1 to 2-foot wading pool left in most places was soon swallowed up by bushes and weeds. No longer the clear refuge John Clarke had known, the area became a sanctuary for marsh lovers instead: alligators, ducks, dove quail, herons, owls, raccoons, and remained so for almost 30 years. 

Then a Florida Cracker named Zeb Vance Hooker came along. Hooker's failed real estate tries in the Everglades brought him east in the early 1930s. He picked a square of government-owned land to squat on, near the southeast end of the lake, and built a wooden shack. There he and his chickens and goats became the first residents of Lake Clarke Shores. He was simply known as "The Hermit."

In 1936, the Patrick family bought a large tract of land on which they planted mango groves and raised cattle until prospectors F. C. McKenzie and Roy Dilling bought their land. McKenzie and Dilling subdivided the property into 2 1/2-acre mango tree plots to sell to investors. No go. The trees never bore fruit, and an employee embezzled what little money was made. By 1946, their only hope was to sell and abandon the land, still today known on property tax rolls as "Florida Mango Grovelets." But who would want a collection of frogs, quail, ducks and doves, so far from town? Patsy Reynolds would. The land she found at the end of Antigua Road gave her all the privacy and space she wanted to raise her dogs and cats. In 1946 she built her home, which was destroyed by fire on May 26, 1995.

A few other people bought from McKenzie and Dilling, but not to build homes. In 1949, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Oen and two of their friends bought adjacent lots where they enjoyed many Sunday afternoons fishing and cooking out at the "lake place." Later that year, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Langford bought property so they would have a place to have family picnics. "You had to pick your days to get out here," said Mrs. Langford in town records. "Because when it was wet, you got stuck in the mud, and when it was dry, you got stuck in the sand."

Local attorney Walter Travers had an eye on transforming the big bunch of weeds to a waterfront community, despite warnings that the land was simply too low for development to be economically feasible. Travers was undeterred: He bought property from shoreline owners and asked state officials to buy the land that had been exposed in the drainage project 30 years before. He offered the Tallahassee agency $300 per acre for the land within four or five feet of water; $200 per acre for land at water level; and $100 for land underwater. With $10,000 borrowed from a friend, he purchased his first 250 acres on the northwest side of the lake. Then Travers had a good fortune of walking along Datura Street and getting part of his ear chopped of by glass falling from the Harvey Building. Naturally, being a lawyer, he sued and won $5000, which he immediately invested in his development.  

By 1949, Travers had the dredging machine scooping up sand from the bottom of the lake and using it for fill and began selling pieces of his dream. By the end of 1952, only three homes had been built along the small section of shell rock road, which later would become West Lake Drive. Travers lived in the one on the north side of the boat ramp, and the other two stood immediately south. Travers knew that he needed a bridge across the canal to connect the community to the outside world. Lake Lytal, then a county commissioner, convinced the commission to proceed with construction, knowing Travers was willing to kick in $10,000 to help pay for it. After the bridge opened in 1953, families, including Oens, Langfords, Lytals, trickled across to build homes. By 1956 there were 150 registered voters of "Lake Clarke Isles."

Travers began developing on the northeast side of the lake: Some old-time residents can recall walking on wooden planks over the canal at Pine Tree Lane so they could pick out their lots on location out on Venetian Way. Travers continued dredging, extending the main lake south to where it is today. He built roads and bridges. He dug and filled to make sustainable lots around the lake. He destroyed the wetland area in the process -- an action that would never be allowed under today's environmental regulations. He's also the man we can thank today for no sidewalks -- that's just the way Travers planned it.

For years, there's been talk that Travers was instrumental in forming the town to go along with his development. In fact, though, he opposed it, he's said in the past that he much rather have had to deal with the county folks downtown than the residents looking right over his shoulder.

Rumors flew that West Palm Beach would annex the community into its limits. And homeowners were unhappy about their sandy roads, Pine Tree Lane and Venetian Way. So about 60 people united to form the Lake Clarke Property Owners Association in the fall of 1955. The group soon outgrew meeting at the Neiswander's home and continued at Meadow Park School and talked turned to forming a town.  

Owners of dry property opposed the names Lake Clarke Isles or Lake Clarke Shores. And some suggested it would be confused with Lake Park. But votes for the "Town of :Lake Clarke Shores" won Out. On April 10, 1956, the community met at the school and more than two-thirds of the 150 registered voters said "yes" to officially forming a town. The legislature approved it the following year. Then the real work began: At first, people just volunteered to fill the necessary offices. William McLaughlin became the first mayor. Together with the councilmen they made ordinances, wrote building codes and made money collection procedures. The first ordinance they passed was the speed limit: 25 miles per hour.

To raise money, residents voluntarily donated $15 per house, and citizens organized all sorts of fundraising clubs: Pinochle, bridge, garden and women's groups who sold Tupperware, rummage sales and held dinners. Two of those original clubs, Sandpiper Garden Club, which disbanded in the late 90's, and the Lake Clarke Shores Garden Club, had long endured. Sandpiper Garden Club established the butterfly garden. In fact, the LCS Garden Club still donates benches and landscaping, continuously beautifying the town.  

Everybody's favorite function was the Town barbecue. Most were held on a vacant lot at the southwest corner of Forest Hill and West Lake Drive. Then the loose-knit association of  friends worked to start a newspaper in 1956, and to get mail delivered to street addresses in 1957, and by 1958, with the opening of Forest Hill High School, the town became a prestigious place to live. Mrs. Lake Lytal's friends no longer teased her about living in the "boondocks."

By 1960, the population was 1,297 and with the growth came conflicts. The first was zoning. Originally it was all zoned residential, but years of lawsuits, urban planning experts and finally, a wider, four-lane Forest Hill, changed that. In 1964, they approved some limited commercial and multi-family units along Forest Hill. In 1967, the first commercial venture opened a gas station at the corner of Florida Mango and Forest Hill.

Fighting the lawsuits sapped the town's coffers, and in 1964 voters supported ad valorem taxes which the town levied since.  The informal meeting in the churches, schools, and homes needed a permanent place, and in the early 1970's, the need could no longer be ignored. The present town hall was built and opened in 1974. The basketball court and tennis courts soon followed, and in 1978 the Town finally paved the boat ramp.  

The public land at the north end of the lake, was called "Memorial Park" after the Town lost its first son, Paul Cline, in Vietnam, in 1968. Another young man, Scott Alan Powell, is also honored there after he was killed by a car as he bicycled along delivering newspapers.

From the town's beginning, volunteer marshals patrolled it. At first they carried their own weapons, drove their own cars and wore uniforms donated by the West Palm Beach Police Department. By 1960 there was enough activity to warrant buying radios. By 1962, the Town bought its first police car, and in 1963 had its first full-time deputy, John Alge, hired to protect the 498 homes.  

The volunteers knew just about everyone in the Town and were a friendly group, but that didn't keep them from doing their duties. An excerpt from the January 1968 newspaper reads: "A policeman read a note on the windshield of a car parked in a no parking area: 'I have circled this block for 10 years. If i don't give you a ticket, I will loose (sic) my job. Lead us not into temptation.'"

By 1970, there were 2,328 residents. In order to cover our larger population, the police department worked in tandem with the Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office. In the past 5 years our police department has grown and added sophisticated equipment. We now have video cameras in the patrol cars, laptop computers, night vision glasses and a thermal imager. A new speed trailer helps remind residents and visitors to slow down! 

According to the 2000 census, 3457 people in 1500 dwellings now reside in Lake Clarke Shores. It's a far cry from the quiet refuge John Clarke escaped to, but it still is a unique, friendly place with a small town feel.