Sponging around in Tarpon Springs

Author: By B. J. Roche, Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, November 15, 1998

Page: M16

Section: Travel

Located on the Gulf of Mexico at the mouth of the Anclote River, Tarpon Springs was a popular turn-of-the century winter resort for wealthy Northerners, who built the large Victorian mansions that line the pretty streets of the town's historic district. Today, it's mostly a tourist town, but one with a Greek twist, thanks to a once-thriving sponge industry whose remnants linger.

The industry took off here in 1905, when a Greek spongebroker from New York arrived and saw the potential in the waters of the Gulf Coast. He got a job in a sponge warehouse, and soon his brothers joined him, sponging in the deep waters on the weekends. Then came boatbuilders and other craftsmen, like those who made the big round diving helmets. Eventually they would build a community of 3,000 people known as ``Greek town.''

At the industry's peak in the 1930s, more than 200 sponge boats sailed from the docks that line the river. Though the sponge industry today is a shadow of what it was,many families remained: Tarpon Springs is home to one of the largest Greek communities in the United States.

The Greek influence becomes clear as soon as you turn from busy Route 19 onto Dodecanese Boulevard. Mom and pop gift shops and white-and-blue stucco restaurants with names like Apollo and the Parthenon line the streets, and the bakeries sell baklava. Ten years ago, sponge auctions were held twice a week at the Sponge Exchange across from the docks. Now it's the site of gift shops and a small display outlining the history of the sponge industry in the area. A large, empty diving suit and helmet hangs from a flagpole.

I paid $5 to take a half-hour boat cruise and sponge demonstration on the St. Nicholas Boat Line, but it was too windy to go out. So instead I sat with Captain Angelo Billiris in his gift shop and listened as he chain-smoked Marlboros and talked about the industry he and his brothers worked in all their lives.

``We were the world's leading producer of natural sponges,'' he says. Then, in the late '30s and '40s, a blight killed off the sponges in the Gulf of Mexico, he says, ``and the industry went down the tubes.''

Sponges began to come back in the 1960s, but by then most of the boats had deteriorated, been sold or converted. ``Some were mysteriously burned,'' Billiris says with a sly smile. The divers were gone, too, mostly to work in the steel mills and factories of the Midwest. ``So we brought some guys over from Greece.''

The industry got a boost in 1985, after Hurricane Elena stalled over the gulf for three days and churned the waters. Divers began finding sponges again. ``In one week's time, one diver fround 15,000 pieces of sponge,'' he says. ``It made the news: The sponges were back!''

Today the threats to the industry come from pollution and red tides -- and the fact that sponging is hard and dirty work. Once the sponges are harvested, they must be kept wet and turned frequently to prevent decomposition. When sponges come out of the sea, they're covered with a dark, sludgy substanced called ``gurry,'' which must be squeezed, beaten, and thumped out of the sponges until they turn a pale beige.

Billiris says about 85 percent of all sponges harvested here go to Europe, where consumers want ``the real thing.'' ``We're a throwaway society,'' he says. ``People look at the price and say, `Nine dollars! I don't care if it's platinum, I won't pay $9.' But they go to K Mart and spend money and still don't get the quality you can get with a good sponge.''

And there are plenty to choose from in Tarpon Springs: Shops line the docks and sidestreets, selling sponges of all shapes, sizes, and quality. A few distinctly low-tech exhibits offer some diversions: At Sponge-a-rama, the visitor can see an exhibit on the process of sponging, and the Coral Sea Aquarium, at the far end of the docks, offers shark feeding shows and a display of a live coral reef.

In good weather, the St. Nicholas Boat Line offers several cruises a day, all of which show a sponging demonstration. From the docks, you can also take a trolley-bus tour of Tarpon Springs, which takes you past Spring Bayou, a warm-water inlet bordered by some gaily painted and porched Victorian mansions. Billiris had told me that the cool, windy weather meant that the manatees would seek refuge in the warm waters of Spring Bayou, so I drove over and sat by the water's edge and waited.

After awhile, I began to notice the large, smooth surfaces hanging just beneath the rippling surface of the water. The manatees had arrived. For more than an hour, I watched as three or four of them dived, rose to the surface and glided through the water, rolling and basking in what must have felt like a warm bath. They were big and slow, and lolled in the water, seeming like they had all the time in the world. They appeared to be content, and though I would soon have to go back to my life, for a few minutes, so was I.

To learn more about the sponge industry, visit www.spongeman.com.

Where to stay and eat:

The Sunbay Motel, 57 West Tarpon Ave. (813-934-1001), is a good budget lodging choice, a block from Spring Bayou.

The Spring Bayou Inn, 32 West Tarpon Ave. (813-938-9333) is a bed-and-breakfast housed in a lovely Victorian-style home.

Duodecanese Boulevard is lined with small Greek restaurants and bakeries that serve coffees and cappuccinos. Try the chocolate baklava (!) at the Apollo Bakery. For dinner, try the Mykonos, a casual restaurant at 628 Dodecanse Blvd., where the special of fried calamari included a tangy lemon chicken soup and enough food for two, all for under $10.