Ghosts of the Gulf

Believe it or not, the St. Pete Beach area has a spooky past.  Read about several documented haunts in our special Halloween feature.

 By Kimberly Rebman

Photos by Steven Kovich unless otherwise credited.

 John’s Pass

150 John’s Pass Boardwalk, Madeira Beach, 33708


In a small town just five miles west of St. Petersburg, Florida, sits a rustic fishing village and marketplace called John’s Pass. The Pass is steeped in history and legend, including how it was created by a hurricane back in 1848 and tales of marauding pirates.

Many locals and tourists to the area have come to take leisurely strolls up and down the boardwalk at the Pass.  Some prefer to cast out a fishing line, while others would rather wait in line to board a sightseeing boat. One can window shop at a beach boutique, cool off with an ice cream cone, or grab a beer with a buccaneer.  With over 100 places to shop, eat and entertain at the Pass, there is always something to do.  During the pre-Civil War days, however, there wasn’t much around except for water to fish from.  On the western side of the Pass is the Gulf of Mexico, whereas Boca Ciega Bay flows in from the east.  Many fishermen came here in their boats during the 1800s, including two brothers who some say still return to this very day.

Scott and John Whitus were Yanks, and being that Florida is certainly not a northern state, the brothers felt strong rivalry from the Confederates while living in Tampa Bay at the time.  Knowing they had much to contend with, the brothers begged for protection from the commandant of the federal camp on Egmont Key.  Unfortunately, Scott and John had to fight this battle on their own.  The Confederates killed the brothers’ livestock and threatened to burn their cabins if they did not vacate the area. Scott and John refused, so the Confederates decided to take action.  On one moonless night, as the fishermen brothers sailed their wooden boat into the Pass, the Confederates stood at watchful alert.  Camouflaged among the Australian pines at their lookout point, the rebels drew their rifles and fired.  The dark night sky lit up with gunfire.  Scott and John Whitus laid lifeless in the bottom of their vessel.  They were later buried by relatives under cabbage palms at the northern end of Treasure Island.


There are many who have visited the Pass, both residents and out-of-staters, who claim to have seen the spectral fishermen.  Most of the reports are of feeling a cold mist or the rancid smell of rotting fish.  Two fishermen friends once had a ghostly encounter of their own.  One summer night while out casting their lines by the John’s Pass Bridge, the unexplainable happened. As the men stood by the water, an icy cold breeze hit the back of one of their necks.  The misty patch of air carried the foul odor of decay, pungent and condensed.  The men tried to rationalize the terrible smell, blaming it on dead fish somewhere nearby; yet, they soon realized there was none to be seen.  With fishing poles in hand, the confused fishermen then witnessed a most amazing sight.  Floating in a strange mist in front of them were the ghosts of two men.  They were described by the friends as looking pale and scrawny, with mold and grease stains smudged all over their tattered clothes.  The apparitions disappeared under the bridge, towards the north.  Needless-to-say, the fishing buddies fled back to their car, as catching a fish just didn’t seem so important anymore.

Some visitors to the Pass have seen the Whitus brothers, on moonless nights, sailing through the dark waters of the bay.  As the stories go, the strange little sailing boat will approach the Pass, then suddenly vanish in the middle of the open water.

Parting Thoughts:

It was on a chilly autumn night many years ago that I ventured out to the Pass in search of the phantom fishermen. The sky was sprinkled with stars and dolphin surfaced under the tranquil waters. I was in the mood for adventure, so I decided to take a more precarious route to the haunted waterway where the ghostly men are often seen.  Walking underneath the bridge was a bit daunting, especially in the dark of the night but intrigue guided the way.  As I cautiously tread under the noisy metal, cars humming loudly above, something caught my eye.  In a beam just above my head, three little words warned: “They’re Out There.”

As I cleared the bridge and got my feet onto more stable ground, I stared out across the still, silent waters of the bay.  Not a soul in sight, or at least, none that could be easily seen.

If you should ever pass through this charming beach town on a moonless night, be forewarned.  You just may see a weathered single-mast sailing boat drifting in from Boca Ciega Bay, as the ethereal Whitus brothers return from a night of fishing back into their watery graves.

The Don CeSar

Photo by Steven Kovich

The Don CeSar Hotel   3400 Gulf Boulevard   St. Pete Beach 33706

It was January 16, 1928 when 1500 socialites gathered to dance the night
away. Beautifully gowned dames, dripping in jewels, walked arm in arm
with tuxedo adorned gentlemen. Glamour and elegance emanated.
The Don CeSar Hotel had just opened its doors for the first time. The man
of the evening was the Don’s creator, Thomas J. Rowe. Rowe, originally
from Boston, was considered by many to be a “fine gentleman,
hardworking and determined.” He was a man who had a vision of building

Thomas J. Rowe. His ghost, may still haunt the Don CeSar.

a grand hotel.
Rowe began his dream while studying abroad. It was London, in the
1890s, when he met a beautiful señorita. Lucinda was an actress, who
played the lead female role of Maritana in the famous Vincent Wallace
opera. Rowe fell instantly in love with Lucinda. Her parents, unfortunately,
did not agree with the courtship and strictly forbade Rowe from seeing their
daughter. They felt Rowe was completely ill-suited for Lucinda because he
was of a different religious faith, as well as being just a measly student.
Lucinda was, after all, a career woman. Her parents also worried that their
only daughter would somehow be lured away from the opera life.
Everything considered, Thomas J. Rowe was not an appropriate suitor.
However, the couple’s love for one another was so strong that they
continued to meet, albeit, in secrecy. They would often rendezvous by a
fountain in London. At this landmark, they would embrace and dream of
future days together.Rowe would often talk to Lucinda about one day building his dream hotel.

He lovingly would call her, Maritana, after the starring role she played in the opera. Lucinda, in turn, referred to Rowe as starring role she played in the opera. Lucinda, in turn, referred to Rowe as
her Don CeSar, the name of the heroic knight who fell in love with her
Despite their passion for one another, the couple had to eventually stop
meeting altogether. Lucinda’s parents had discovered their secret
relationship. Feeling hopeless, Rowe decided to return to the United
States. Love-stricken, he sent countless letters to Lucinda after leaving.
He continued writing and sending for two long years; yet, every letter was
returned to him, unopened. One day, the silence was broken when Rowe
received a letter sent by Lucinda herself; it was the only letter she was ever
permitted to write. Unfortunately, the news was far from good. Lucinda
had fallen ill and had written to Rowe from her deathbed. The letter
solemnly read, “Tom, my beloved Don CeSar. This life is only our
intermediate plane. I leave it without regret and travel to a place where the
swing of the pendulum does not bring pain. Time is infinite. I wait for you
by our fountain to share our timeless love forever, Maritana.”
Though Rowe was devastated, happy days did lie ahead; fate would
eventually lead Rowe to Florida in the 1920s. After relocating, Rowe

discovered developer Perry Snell’s 80-acre tract of land, just north of Pass-
A-Grille Beach. The selling price was $100,000. Rowe purchased the land,

The Don CeSar under construction 1927

and after three years of arduous hauling of construction materials from the
mainland on shallow barges and $1,150,000, the hotel was complete. The
structure was built for Lucinda, the beautiful Spanish girl Rowe never
forgot. He even had the hotel erected in the style of Moorish architecture in
honor of her heritage. The tribute to his unrequited love continued on when
he decided upon the hotel’s name. The Don CeSar seemed to fit perfectly,
as it was the name Lucinda so adoringly called Rowe from their favorite
The grand hotel was no longer just a dream… it had become reality.
The Don CeSar was most certainly the place to be. The elite of the era
frequented the glamorous hotel. Lavish balls were held for Florida’s high
society and evenings were spent sipping champagne from the roof
gardens. Carey Grant, Lou Gehrig, the VP of MGM, The Gambles of
Bloomingdales and many of the nation’s presidents were among the

famous guests that visited the hotel over the years. Novelist F. Scott
Fitzgerald, who stayed at the Don for a few nights, was rumored to have
been writing a mystery about the hotel. Notorious gangsters, such as Al
Capone, roamed the halls; it was said that they found sanctuary at the Don.
Fan dances were performed in the grand ballroom, and in the 1930s,
fashion shows were all the rage at the luxurious hotel. Standing ten stories
tall and glowing pink in the radiant Florida sun, the Don CeSar (also known
as The Pink Lady) was elegantly decorated inside. Chandeliers sparkled
and rich velvet draping added the perfect touch to every room. There was
expensive oak flooring in the grand ballroom and guest rooms boasted
porcelain tubs. Rowe also included a replica of the courtyard and fountain
where he had his secret meetings with his love. Two hundred and seventy-
five guest rooms went for rates of $12 to $30 a day during the Don’s first
There was no doubt that the Don CeSar was a magnificent structure and
that Thomas J. Rowe was responsible for it. Rowe earned great respect
and admiration from his employees and guests; he treated them like
royalty. After all, the Don was his castle. In 1940, Rowe’s health began to
decline, and on one hot summer day while walking through the lobby, he
collapsed. Able to get himself up, Rowe staggered back into his room and
it was there that he suffered a heart attack. Refusing to leave his beloved
hotel, a medical team was sent in to take care of him. On May 5, 1940,
Rowe suffered a second heart attack in bed. This time it was fatal. He was
later buried at St. Petersburg’s Royal Palm Cemetery. Rowe left behind a
wife, who in turn, would later take over the Don.
In 1941, the military introduced itself to the hotel. On the ground floor,
offices, clinics, and labs moved in. The once elaborately decorated guestrooms
turned into wards and two operating rooms took up occupancy on
the eighth floor. The grand ballroom became a war department theater. In
1944, the Air Force Convalescent Center took over. The Don served as a
haven for battle fatigued airmen. Psychiatric care was provided to men
who suffered from nervousness and emotional conditions. The airmen
were treated to dances with girls who lived nearby in town and could sun
tan on the beaches just behind the hotel.
By 1945, the Center was phased out and later it metamorphosed into the

VA Regional office. The interiors of the elegant Don were stripped of their
beauty and painted government green. Nearly everything that had once
lavishly decorated the hotel, was hauled away. Even Rowe’s special
fountain was destroyed because it was considered unsightly and in the
way. The grand ballroom became a storage space for veteran records.
The hotel had taken on a whole new look. What was once ornate and
inviting had now become cold and stark. The Don also wasn’t aging very
well and that caused the government to vacate and move to a new building.
At this point, no one could predict the hotel’s fate.
By the late 1960s, the Don was totally abandoned. Vandals and seabirds
had made the dark, dusty structure their home. Young pranksters began
sneaking in. Once, a teenager was spotted hanging out of a top floor
window. Action needed to be taken as the Don had become not just an
eyesore, but dangerous. It was even considered to be risky to walk near
the old hotel, due to its crumbling pink exterior. The Don was set to be
destroyed until a group of passionate townspeople was able to save it. On
November 24, 1973, the hotel was brought back to life and re-opened as a
grand and lavish beachside resort. In the mid-90s, it was completely
renovated by way of a $15 million makeover. No doubt Rowe would have
been proud to see the resurrection if he was still around.
Then again, who said he ever left.
Many guests and employees at the Don CeSar have attested to seeing the
ghost of Thomas Rowe. In fact, some have even spoken with the former
hotel owner himself. Certain guests eating dinner at the Don recall being
asked by a thin, older looking man how their meal was, while overnighters
were checked on to see if their stay had been satisfactory. Before the Don’s
guests could even answer their attentive host, the mysterious man would
be seen walking away, often disappearing into a mingling crowd never to
reappear. Curious to know the man’s name, perhaps thinking him to be the
concierge, they would ask one of the hotel’s employees. After the guests
would describe his physical appearance, they were then led to the ground
floor of the hotel. Here, they’d find a photograph on the wall of the same
man they had just encountered. The caption under the image: “Thomas J.

On one occasion, Southern Bride was shooting a photo spread for their
magazine at the Don, using it as a backdrop. Rowe’s ghost actually made
an appearance to one of the magazine’s editors and warned her not to take
pictures in a specific area around the hotel. She did not heed the warning.
A huge black crow strangely appeared and caused great problems for the
models and camera equipment, ruining the session. Ghostly sightings
have been reported quite often on the fifth floor, which was where Rowe
spent much of his time while he was alive. Rowe used to frequent the
rooms on this floor and also enjoyed spending time with his guests at the
floor’s dining room. Hotel employees have also seen the apparition near
the fifth-floor elevator. According to one employee, she had her hands full
while getting into the elevator and claimed that somehow the down button
got pressed for her. Rowe’s ghost has also been seen in the downstairs
lobby. Some guests and employees have reported the phantom-like image
of the hotel’s founder staring back at them in a mirror. During renovations
in the 1970s, a man in an old-fashioned suit was often seen walking around
the hotel construction sites by workers.
Back in the later part of the decade, sightings of Rowe became so frequent
that the manager of the Don felt the ghost was posing a problem. The
ghost was never malevolent or threatening, yet the manager was
concerned nonetheless. According to lore, this social spirit had to be asked
to confine himself to the fifth floor. He was not allowed to move about
through the remainder of the hotel. If the manager decorated the fifth floor
in the style of the 1920s or 30s to Rowe’s liking, there would be a deal
made. Supposedly, the ghostly owner agreed. Some guests and
employees beg to differ. Many sightings of Rowe occur all throughout the
Don, and not just limited to the fifth floor.
As another story goes, an exterminator was brought in to make his usual
rounds. The bug buster walked into to the Don’s darkened ballroom one
evening. Upon entering, he noticed the silhouette of a man sitting at a
table. Thinking him to be a hotel guest or staff member, the exterminator
decided to say hello and proceeded to turn on the ballroom’s light. As soon
as he did, the man vanished; not a trace of him to be had. Needless to say,
the exterminator raced out of the room, went straight to the front desk and

reported what he had seen. As stated by the front desk clerks, that was the
last time the terrified bug man would ever return.
In the 1980s, an additional spirit was seen walking the halls of the grand
hotel. The first report came from a guest who saw “a woman in a very
lavish dress as if in an opera costume” wandering the beach behind the
Don. The phantom female, reported by many, has been described as
being “theatrically dressed.” For a while she was often seen wandering
alone, until one evening a couple on the beach reported seeing the ghostly
beauty walking alongside a male spirit. Could it be that Lucinda and Rowe
finally reunited in the afterlife, just as promised in the letter? There have
been frequent sightings of the spectral sweethearts, strolling along the
sand hand in hand. It is said that the ghostly couple has been seen in the
courtyard of the Don enjoying a lover’s stroll under a starlit sky. The most
recent report came from a hotel guest who was sitting on the beach at
sunset. She claimed to have seen “an oddly dressed couple” walking away
from the pink hotel. According to the report, they kept on going and never
once looked back, the sun just melting into the warm ocean waters behind
Parting Thoughts:
If you are searching for a scary way to spend the night, The Don CeSar is a
dead ringer. In fact, USA Today ranked it as one of the “Ten Best Places to
Sleep with a Ghost.”
Just picture yourself on a stormy night, snuggling in under the hotel’s
heavenly soft linens, lightning flashing off the waves and thunder vibrating
the old window panes. Slumber, deep and heavy, ushers you into peaceful
Upon awakening, you begin to wonder if Rowe and his beloved Lucinda
came to visit in the middle of the night. Perhaps they were just too busy
walking the shoreline into the wee hours of the morning.
But then again, why are there sandy footprints at my bedside …