Alfred Hair, one of the founding members of the Florida Highwaymen artist collective, played a pivotal role in shaping the movement's distinctive style and vision.
His untimely death in 1970 marked a tragic turning point for the group, whose members deeply mourned the loss of their mentor and friend.
In this article, we explore Hair's background, history, the events surrounding his death, and the lasting impact he had on the Florida Highwaymen.
Born in 1941, Alfred Hair grew up in Fort Pierce, Florida, during an era of racial segregation and limited opportunities for African-Americans.
Despite these challenges, Hair developed a passion for art and found inspiration in the landscape paintings of A.E. "Bean" Backus, a renowned Florida artist. Hair began emulating Backus's work but with a more cost-effective and rapid approach, using inexpensive materials and house paint.
Hair's innovative methods caught the attention of other young African-American artists in the area, including Harold Newton, who would become one of the founding members of the Florida Highwaymen.
Under Hair's leadership, this informal group of artists adopted his techniques and began producing vibrant landscape paintings that captured the essence of Florida's natural beauty.
On August 9, 1970, Alfred Hair's life was cut tragically short when he was shot and killed at the age of 29 during a bar altercation in Fort Pierce.
Alfred Hair's death was a significant loss for the Florida Highwaymen, leaving the group without one of its most influential and talented members. The different accounts of Hair's tragic passing only add to the mystery and sadness surrounding his untimely death.
The exact details surrounding Alfred Hair's death remain unclear, as various accounts provide different information about the tragic event. However, what is known is that Hair was fatally shot on August 9, 1970, during an altercation at Eddie's Place, a bar in Fort Pierce, Florida.
There are several differing accounts regarding the circumstances that led to Hair's death:
Some reports suggest that Hair was involved in a heated argument with another individual, which ultimately escalated into a physical altercation, leading to Hair being shot.
Another account claims that Hair was not directly involved in the altercation but was attempting to break up a fight between two other individuals when he was shot. In this version, Hair's role was that of a peacemaker, caught in the crossfire of a dispute that had nothing to do with him.
Yet another version states that Hair was an innocent bystander, completely uninvolved in the altercation, and was tragically struck by a stray bullet fired during the dispute.
Despite these varying accounts, a few key details remain consistent across most reports: the shooter was identified as Julius “J. L.” Funderberk, a thirty-one-year-old migrant fruit picker, who was arrested and charged with Hair's murder.
According to one account, Alfred was buying a beer for a girl Funderberk had thought was his. Funderberk raised his gun and pointed it at Alfred.
“I’ll kill all of you painters in here,” he allegedly said.
Funderberk shot him once and Alfred stumbled to the back door of the bar. Outside the bar, Funderberk shot Alfred a second time, and Alfred later died. Funderberk was arrested and served five years in prison.
The news of Hair's death sent shockwaves through the Florida Highwaymen community.
He was not only a talented artist but also a mentor, friend, and driving force behind the movement. His loss was deeply felt by the other members, who struggled to come to terms with the sudden and senseless nature of his passing.
In the wake of Hair's death, the Florida Highwaymen artists mourned his loss, and the group's productivity slowed significantly.
Hair's innovative spirit, artistic talent, and dedication to sharing Florida's natural beauty through art left a lasting impression on his fellow artists.
In the years following Hair's death, the Florida Highwaymen experienced a period of decline, but their legacy endured.
Hair's contributions to the movement were not forgotten, and his work continues to be celebrated and admired by collectors and art enthusiasts alike.
In 2004, Alfred Hair was posthumously inducted into the Florida Artists Hall of Fame, along with other original members of the Florida Highwaymen. This recognition solidified Hair's place in art history and honored his impact on the group and the wider art world.
As we remember Alfred Hair, we also celebrate the resilience and determination of the Florida Highwaymen artists who carried on his legacy, ensuring that their unique and vibrant paintings would continue to capture the essence of Florida's natural beauty for generations to come.
Harold Newton, one of the original members of the Florida Highwaymen, was a remarkable artist whose work captured the unique beauty of Florida's landscape.
As a key figure in the Florida Highwaymen movement, Newton's life story and artistic accomplishments offer insight into the group's overall history and impact on American art.
Harold Newton was born in 1934 in Tifton, Georgia. He moved to Florida with his family in the 1940s and was raised in Gifford, a small community near Vero Beach.
Newton showed artistic talent from an early age, but with limited opportunities for formal art education due to racial segregation, he was largely self-taught.
In the early 1950s, Newton met Alfred Hair, who introduced him to the landscape paintings of A.E. "Bean" Backus.
Hair's vision of creating art quickly and affordably appealed to Newton, and together they formed the foundation of the Florida Highwaymen movement.
Harold Newton's artwork embodies the Florida Highwaymen's characteristic style, with vibrant colors and bold strokes capturing the essence of Florida's natural beauty.
His paintings frequently featured scenes of palm trees, beaches, wetlands, and sunsets, with a special emphasis on the state's diverse waterways.
Newton's technique was marked by a keen attention to detail and a strong sense of realism. His ability to create depth and texture through the use of light and shadow added a sense of life and movement to his work. While Newton's style shared similarities with other Highwaymen artists, his distinctive touch and exceptional talent set him apart.
Newton was a prolific artist, often completing multiple paintings in a day. His dedication to his craft and the quality of his work made him one of the most sought-after and successful painters within the Florida Highwaymen.
Harold Newton's artistic career spanned three decades, from the 1950s until his death in 1994. Over the course of his life, he produced thousands of paintings that captured the changing landscape of Florida.
His works have become highly sought after by collectors and can be found in museums, galleries, and private collections around the world.
In 2004, Newton was posthumously inducted into the Florida Artists Hall of Fame, alongside other original members of the Florida Highwaymen.
This recognition solidified his place as a significant figure in American art history and reaffirmed the lasting impact of the Highwaymen movement.
Harold Newton's life and work exemplify the spirit of the Florida Highwaymen: an unwavering dedication to art and a commitment to capturing the essence of Florida's natural beauty.
As one of the original members of the group, Newton's contributions to the movement and his exceptional talent have secured his place in art history.
His work serves as a testament to the power of creativity and perseverance in the face of adversity and remains an inspiration for generations of artists to come.
The Ocean Life crew owns several original Highwaymen paintings by Harold Newton. Shop for prints and other items based off of the paintings.
Our video was inspired in part by The Kraken, a sonnet written by Alfred Lord Tennyson, who lived from 1809–1892.
The poem is said to be filled with symbolism and hidden meaning, but even on its surface (sorry, we're in a very punny mood today) The Kraken is an in-depth (oops we did it again) look into the legends and mythology of the sea.
Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
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Are you a proud captain, navigating your ship through the waters of life, forced to make decisions that will determine your future? Read the nautical poem The Ship Has Sailed, which takes place in the Florida Keys, but it could apply to any island, or any person.
]]>On the surface, this is a poem about the sea. Going deeper, however, it's a tale of pride and how it affects us as we navigate our ships through the stormy waters of life.
The poem takes place in the Florida Keys, but it could apply to any island, or any person.
by Sean Bloomfield (founder of OceanLife)
There lived a proud captain
Who sailed the seas.
After too long in port
He grew weary of trees.
“I’ve had drink aplenty
In the bars of the Keys
But my thirst for saltwater
Must now be appeased.”
His pride made him brave
But deaf to decrees
Which warned of a storm
Raging in from the east.
At the end of Duval
Trees danced in a breeze
Which gave the proud captain
a sense of unease.
But a voice said “Look here!”
'Twas the voice of the sea.
“There’s nothing to fear
When you’re dancing with me.”
“Dance on my waves.
Be wild and free.
Are you a seafarer
Or a yellow-belly?”
The captain, with pride,
Said “I do as I please.
I have nothing to fear
With my keen expertise.”
Then he ran to the port
And jumped like a flea
To the deck of his ketch
The Princess Marie.
Her timbers, they shivered,
Like mosquito disease
And her mainsail unfurled
In a watery sneeze.
The captain, he smiled,
And kissed sweet Marie
The love of his life,
his land remedy.
She got underway
With exceptional ease
And the captain made haste
Past the edge of the reef.
He puffed out his chest
And gritted his teeth;
Yes he was a captain
Who did as he pleased.
He steadied his course:
One-Eighty degrees
And nightfall revealed
The bright Pleiades.
The captain, he smiled.
"Farewell to the Keys.
I've no use for land
And my Princess agrees.”
But then came a wind
Strong as he’d seen
In his great many days
Of sailing the seas.
“To switch course or not?
They're both tragedies.
A choice I must make,
But my heart disagrees."
Marie plowed the waves
Like a knife slicing cheese
And her master stayed course
So as not to displease.
"Cutting and running
Gives no guarantees
That my trusty old vessel
Can tack winds like these."
Out on the horizon
He could still see the trees
Which looked so inviting
Compared to the seas.
“I must decide now
Or that option will cease.
What will I choose?
This hell or that peace?”
The captain, he winced,
And fell to his knees.
"I’m no good at making
hard choices like these.”
Then a gust ripped the sail
Which let out a wheeze
And the waves became taller,
as tall as tall trees.
“No turning back now,
As my ship would be seized
By these towering waves
As tall as tall trees.”
Rain pelted his face
Like the stinging of bees.
Yes, this was a storm
That did as it pleased.
“If only I’d known
How bad it would be,
I’d be on dry land
Admiring the trees.”
The captain stopped thinking;
His mind seemed to freeze.
But deep in his heart
Pride said words like these:
Lured out in a storm
To dance on the seas—
So go the proud captains
Who do as they please.
The tragic thing here
Is they fail to see
That waves are fine dancers
But so are the trees.
]]>Before Christmas break started, my Dad told us that we were going on a mystery trip. Each day he gave us a hint as to where we were going. The first hint he gave us was that it was in the Americas. The second was that the people there speak Spanish.
]]>The first hint he gave us was that it was in the Americas.
The second was that the people there speak Spanish.
We kept on guessing but he wouldn’t tell us anything. On Christmas there was one gift in a traditional Mexican Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead) bag. Inside it contained three books about Mexico. We then knew where we were going.
We left for Mexico two days after Christmas. After renting a car, we went to Cancun, a very industrious area with a lot of tourism. We stayed in the Westin, a hotel along the coast. We spent a few days there to relax before setting off to the real Mexico.
Our next stop was a small town called Valladolid. We stayed at an old but beautiful hotel called Casa de Tia Micha, which means, House of Aunt Micha.
A funny thing that I remember about Valladolid is that when we went to a small market across the street from us, my little brother wanted to get some ice cream, so we took him to an ice cream cart. They only had two flavors. One was coconut, and one was a word that we couldn’t understand, so my brother tried it. We knew the flavor when he said, “the only thing I don’t like about it is that it has these,” and he held up a kernel of corn.
We left Valladolid and ventured to a place called Chichen Itza, probably the most famous Mayan pyramid. We stayed in a cool hotel right near the ruins, and took a guided tour to them first thing in the morning.
Next we went to Tulum, a place known for its ruins and its many cenotes, large underground caves or caverns filled with freshwater. We swam in a few cenotes here, where I was constantly searching for axolotls, a Mexican salamander that people often keep as pets, but all I found were catfish. We also went to a beach where we snorkeled and I found a baby spinytail iguana, the native iguana species.
Finally as we were on our drive back to the airport, we stopped at a place called Dos Ojos, a guided snorkeling tour through an underwater cave system, actually a large cenote with the top caved in. There were fish, bats, and everything there. I tried again for the axolotls, but had no better luck.
I loved Mexico, and I definitely want to go there again someday!
My father did the same for me, as my grandfather did for him. It's a priceless gift that keeps being passed down through generations. I received, and now it's my turn to give.
My children make it easy. A love for the sea has come natural to them.
11-year-old Anna loves to jump in the water and see what creatures she can find.
8-year-old James, however, prefers to cast a line and try to bring the creatures to him.
And 4-year-old John still falls asleep on every boat ride, but I think it's because he feels so much peace out there.
After my father passed away two years ago, I've felt a strange urgency to try even harder. I see my children sprouting up, forming opinions, asking for iPhones, and I just want to stop time and go fishing with them forever.
I know it's not possible, but my feeling, in part, is my reason for founding Ocean Life. It's a way for my family and I to work together and build something that revolves around what we love, and a way to catalogue our memories and share them in hopes of inspiring others to love the sea and all its wonders.
Until next time, tight lines and calm waters!
-Sean
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I wrote this poem at the beginning of 2019 in the Florida Keys on a trip there with my daughter, Anna, and youngest son, John. We had taken our boat to an uninhabited island near Duck Key and spent a good part of the day hunting for driftwood treasures among the mangroves
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Come here, children.
Let me put your thoughts
into words.
Breathe deep,
taste the air—
moist with mangrove spice
and tidal decay.
One day
when you smell that smell
you will remember my words
and this day.
Listen, children.
Listen to the wind—
Do you hear it singing
through the driftwood?
Lonely sailors mistook it
for a siren's song.
Look, children.
The bright yellow sargassum
floating in from the deep.
Pick it up.
Gently. Gently.
Now hold it over your hand
and watch the life fall out.
Remember, children:
we are no less fragile
than these tiny creatures.
Now, children, see the sea
with its peacock feather colors
and white veins of sand
which turn green at the flats
and then blue at the reef
and purple in the deep.
Know that I, too, will one day
flow into the deep—
but my words, dear children,
will live on in your mouth.
~ Sean Bloomfield, OceanLife.com
I wrote this poem at the beginning of 2019 in the Florida Keys on a trip there with my daughter, Anna, and youngest son, John.
We had taken our boat to an uninhabited island near Duck Key and spent a good part of the day hunting for driftwood treasures among the mangroves, something I had done as a child with my Uncle Jon and Grandpa Pat.
In fact, this time we were staying with my aunt and uncle—well, technically my cousins, but I grew up calling them Aunt Elaine and Uncle Jon, and they've been a big part of my life—at the house they built in Duck Key in the 70s.
Uncle Jon had taken us to his favorite "treasure hunting" island, and as he led the children and me through a mangrove forest, he shared his memories of past expeditions in search of driftwood, unique flotsam, and other bounty.
John and Anna listened with wonder, and Uncle Jon's tales made every new "treasure" we found all the more spectacular for them.
Later, I took them to the same island to scour the sand for hermit crabs, one of which now lives in our house, and that afternoon we spent hours shaking sargassum in search of tiny sea creatures.
Filled with memories of my past and gratitude for the love of the ocean that had been handed down to me, nothing makes me happier than seeing the "Ocean Life" being passed down to my children. After all, anything that inspires me to take the time to write a poem despite my busy schedule must mean something!
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As we ourselves prepared for Hurricane Dorian at our home and office in East Central Florida, we've watched the images coming from the Bahamas with horror and sadness, not to mention a sense of "survivor's guilt" in knowing that Florida avoided a similar fate by mere chance.
As the final bands of Dorian now pull away from Florida, all that's on our mind is one thing: how can we help ease the suffering of the beautiful people who call the Bahamas home?
We've been doing some research about the best ways to help. Number one right now seems to be donating essentials. If, like us, you stocked up on supplies in anticipation for a direct strike from Dorian, please consider donating them.
The Bahamian government lists the following items that are most in need:
Please note, they are not in need of used clothes at the moment.
You can find the locations of places to drop off or send supplies in South Florida at the Bahamas.com website.
We also created some shirt designs and framed prints related to Hurricane Dorian's devastation in the islands.
ALL profits from sales of the shirts are donated directly to the Bahamas Relief efforts. We will publish our donations online along with confirmation from the relief agencies.
Not only will your purchase be helping the people of the Bahamas; you'll also be spreading the word wherever you go and reminding people that we cannot forget our neighbors in the Bahamas during such a tragic time.
I always love to put on a mask and snorkel and jump in the water. It's like a whole new beautiful world with all the fish and crabs and all sorts of other things.
Fishing is always fun since you never know what you're going to catch. There are all sorts of different techniques and methods, all for catching different kinds of fish. Some of my personal favorite things to catch include wahoo, mahi mahi, drums and cobia.
Whenever I can, I love to take my dog Rio out on the paddle board and paddle us as far as I can go. We go out and watch the dolphins and manatees play and swim under our board. Rio loves it and he sometimes jumps in to go play with the pelicans.
Boating is a fun and relaxing activity for people of all ages. I love to go out in our boat and watch all the sea birds flying and the fish jumping. Sometimes we even bring our grill and have dinner on the water.
Free diving is very fun and I love seeing how deep I can go. When you dive down deep, you can see everything close up and a whole lot of life that you may not have noticed before. It's also easy because you don't need any other special equipment other than a mask and flippers.
Anna is one of the co-founders of Ocean Life, along with her father and two brothers. She was almost born in New Zealand and has lived in Florida most of her life. She's traveled extensively throughout the world, including to Rwanda, New Zealand, Fiji, the Florida Keys, many trips to Europe, and more.
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