FLORIDA’S FORGOTTON COAST: LIFE ON THE APALACHICOLA BAY
WORKING THE BAY
Melaine Cooper Covell
James Hicks
Monette Hicks
Monica Lemieux
Carl McCaplan
James & Betty McNeill
Charles & Rex Pennycuff
A. L. Quick
Henry Tindell

TOOLS OF THE TRADE
Wes Birdsong
Corky Richards
Bobby Shiver
Charles Thompson
Genaro “Jiggs” Zingarelli

PROCESSING THE CATCH
Terry Dean
Grady Leavins
Lynn Martina
Fred Millender
Janice Richards
Anthony Taranto
Tommy Ward

THE SWEET SIDE
Donald Smiley
George Watkins

VINTAGE APALACH
Seafood & Honey

WHERE TO EAT
Apalach Eateries

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Interviews & photographs by Amy Evans

This project sponsored by the St. Joe Company.

Jiggs Zingarelli’s grandfather came to Florida from Puglia, Italy, sometime in the late nineteenth century. Jiggs’s parents settled in Apalachicola, where he was born in 1915. His nickname references his childhood habit of dancing Irish jigs. He served in the Army during World War II. When Jiggs returned home, he looked to printing as a trade. He went to Nashville to learn the craft of linotype and opened Franklin County Press in 1946. Soon he began printing the oyster tags for the seafood houses in the area. He has been printing them ever since. The mammoth Kluge press dominates his shop. Other machines and tools are scattered throughout. Hundreds of political posters he has printed over the years line the walls. Printing has changed, but Jiggs still holds true to the craft he learned so many decades ago. He still prints tags for customers he’s had now for two generations. But time stops inside the print shop. A sort of museum of printing history, it is also a meeting place. Old-timers congregate there, reminiscing about the old days. Tall tales are told as the machines crank out these vintage-style tags. Soon, the machines will stop, and the Franklin County Press will close. There is no one in line to take over the shop when Jiggs finally decides to hang up his ink-stained apron.

Listen to this 3-minute audio clip of Genaro “Jiggs” Zingarelli talking about the information that gets printed on an oyster tag.
Listen to this short audio clip of Genaro “Jiggs” Zingarelli's Kluge printing press in action
[Windows Media Player required. Go here to download the player for free.]

What follows is a portion of the original interview that has been edited for length. To download the entire transcript in PDF form, please click here.

Subject: Genaro “Jiggs” Zingarelli, oyster tag printer
Date: December 1, 2005
Location: Franklin County Press – Apalachicola, FL
Interviewer: Amy Evans

Amy Evans:  This is Amy Evans on Thursday, December 1st, 2005 in Apalachicola [Florida], and I'm with Genaro “Jiggs” Zingarelli at his print shop here. And Mr. Zingarelli, would you mind telling us your name and what it is you do?

Genaro Zingarelli:  Well I'm just running a print shop now—printing they used to call it. And I got an old cookie press and a type machine doing the hot metal work—right on, got all set, but it's outdated, so I'm just more or less semi-retired.

Would you tell us your name for the recorder here?

Genaro Zingarelli.

And what is your birth date?

May 27th, 1915.

How long have you had this print shop?

Since 1946 [when I] got out the Army.

Where were you born?

Apalachicola.

And what was it like growing up here?

Very good—good hunting and fishing. It's all changed, some for the better.

Can you talk a little bit about the old days and hunting and fishing and—and what you went out and did and caught?

Well we used to do a lot of duck hunting here and a lot of squirrel hunting in the fall and mullet fish cast net mostly all our lives around here.

Did you make the nets also?

No, never could make it. Dad always would buy the net. [Laughs]

Who did you buy them from?

Well various friends made them. But we hunted—fished over [on] St. George's Island—the little Island and the big Island depending on the time of the year. We—in December we hunted those redhead ducks mostly and before that we worked the marsh—fished there and hunted there, too.

What would come out of the marsh?

Ducks, mallards. Teal, every kind of duck, but it just depended the time of the year what we did. Dove season came in first. Well we would run the doves at the Island. It's two miles out here. But that's about it.

What was the town of Apalachicola like in those days?

Well it hadn't changed too much since last—since fifteen years [ago] when the Island—strangers took up over the Island, you know. And so we're not—we're not allowed to hunt over there anymore. Everything is gated off. So that's all right. We had our turn at it. [Laughs]

And what did your parents do?

My father run a dry-goods store. Yeah, for long years, and my mother—just a housewife, I reckon.

Now you told me earlier where they were from. Can you say that again?

My father—father was from Wakulla County, little place—town up there near Arran [Florida]. The old fellow, his father, came from Puglia, Italy. His mother was a Roberts. My mother, her name was Elizabeth Shine.

Do you have an idea of how they met?

No. She came down here with some Ruges. They owned the—the seafood places. I think he's some kind of German or something. And we met—like I say, I had one brother and two sisters and sister died early; she was about forty and brother died a couple years ago; he was about eighty-four or something. And my oldest sister, she's still living. She's ninety-four. She lives over in Fort Walton most of the time—sometimes here. And that's about the life of it. [Laughs]

Can you tell me your parents' names and then your brothers' and sisters' names?

Well my father's name is—they called him AJ Zingarelli and my mother's name was Elizabeth—Elizabeth Shine. Of course she married. And the oldest sister [is] named Helen and the next one was Teresa and then me and Joe. Joe was the youngest.

Now how did you get the nickname Jiggs?

Well I used to do a little dance—my mother did—the Irish Jig. [Laughs] I used to do it at school, so they used to say come on and do the jig.

Can you still do it?

Nah.

Okay, so tell me about this printing business you have. You started in the [nineteen] forties?

Yeah, about [nineteen] forty-six, when I got out the Army.

What made you want to get into the printing business?

Well I used to deliver newspapers at the time, and I had gone off to linotype—it was good thing, linotype school up in Nashville, Tennessee. They—newspapers wanting changes, you know—being printed in long type. It was just a good trade. That's the reason I got in it, for a job.

Has [the Franklin County Press] been in this location the whole time?

Uh-hmm. Yeah, I was in the Army and went overseas on the Queen Mary and the invasions in North Africa and Suffolk. And Tu—Tunisia and then in Sicily and after that, back to England. We thought we were coming home, but we were in D-Day First Infantry Division—D-Day. And finally, they thought the War was going to be over [at] Christmas, and I got to come home for that—a lot of points. I came home. I got married. [Laughs]

Who did you marry?

She was a schoolteacher from North Carolina, and her name was Allie Wienel. And we raised four youngin's here.

What are their names?

The oldest one is Bill; the next one is John; a girl named Elizabeth; and there's a boy named Rob.

And so you came back home to Apalachicola and got married and started a business and had kids?

They all done good—no problem with them. Wasn't a dud in the crowd. [Laughs]

So when you started out with the press here, were you making oyster tags then?

Yeah, I used to—different, and then the law changes so much—changed and I did just general job work: letterhead and envelopes and invoices and—. Now I'm just—now I’m just about oyster tags. I farm out a lot of it. Hard work.

Did you have many employees when you first started?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, I had two or three school boys and girls, yeah. I used to keep them plenty busy, but the laws now, you know, you have to have all this and that, so I just backed off. [Laughs]

And so you were running that press for me a minute ago. You said that was about thirty years old, that machine?

That's the second one I've had, yeah. Back in [nineteen] thirty-five, yeah. [It’s an] old Kluge press. They're still making them.

The first one you had, how long did it last you? Thirty years?

About that. [Laughs] I don't know. I wore it out, and I just—keep this oiled up and still running.

And you oil it every morning you said?

Right before I run it every day I oil it. I’ve already oiled it this morning.

Can you describe how the machine works?

Well it's got a vacuum pump on it—one—one stroke. And the vacuum and runs the air. So it does all I want—this—this stage of the game. [Laughs]

What about some of the other equipment you have in here? These hole punches behind us—?

Linotype. They call it hot metal type, and I got a full shop—I got a perforator and old drill, and I got a copy machine.

Would you mind if I went and got one of those oyster tags to bring over here so we could talk about it?

No, uh-uh. I'll get it. I just got out of the hospital a couple weeks ago and having my left knee replaced. I had the right one about six years ago and my left knee had gone bad, and I had it replaced oh about a month ago.

All that dancing caught up with you, huh?

[Laughs] No, it just wore out. [Laughs]

All right, so we have this oyster tag here. Tell me what kind of paper that is again.

Tyvek. It's tough paper. And the name and address have to be on there and certificate number and wholesale license number and you got a place [that says] “sell by” and where the oysters are [from]: Florida, Louisiana, Texas, Alabama, Mississippi. There is certificate number, harvest days, harvest from, package contains—pound box, a pound—pound bag. This tag is required to be attached to—to containers empty therefore and kept on file for ninety days, and the consuming—and the information on the back.

Uh-hmm. About the risk associated with raw oysters—consuming raw oysters. So this is for RD’s Seafood here in Apalachicola. Do you do the tags for pretty much everyone here, or how does that work?

Well most—a lot of them get them—all computer tags now I do—[there are] a few oyster dealers left, and I do them for that—half a dozen left. I've done a two or three at Eastpoint.

Can you name some of the places that use you for their tags?

Yeah. Well RD's—well he's actually—he's in Eastpoint, but they had to have the mailing address as Apalachicola. And Two Mile Shrimp and Oyster Company and Allen's Seafood Two Mile and Miracle Seafood Two Mile, and I don't know. Two or three at Eastpoint.

Now you were talking earlier about the laws changing. When you first started making these oyster tags what did they look like?

Well it was a regular paper tag, and then it had to have waterproof paper, and now the State said it wasn't tough enough, so we had to have this Tyvek. It's real tough paper; you can't hardly tear it.

Was the information about the same?

The same thing.

Have you changed the type face or anything over the years or is that regulated?

No, that's regulated. What else?

I don't know. There's an awful lot I surely don't know, so you tell me.

Well [the oyster tags] had to have that warning on the back of them. Consumer—consumer information. [Reading the label] There's a risk associated with consuming raw oysters or any raw animal protein. If you have chronic illness of the liver, stomach, or blood or immune disorder you are at greater risk of serious illness from raw oysters and should eat oysters only cooked. If unsure of your risk consult a physician.

Well I wanted to ask you more about these tags and how you make them. [T]his paper, does that come precut, or do you cut it here?

I cut it.

Where is your cutter?

Right there. [Points to the back of the shop] It comes eight and a half by eleven, and I cut it five and a half each way and take the ends off and save those and—see, this way you're five—two and three-quarters. I do the back and front at the same time.

And then you do something with the scraps, is that what you said?

Well I save the scraps. I'll run them back through one at a time instead of back and front at one time. Expensive paper, so I conserve it that way.

Have they always been that size—the tags?

Yeah, um-hmm, the same.

And then all the paper that you have loaded in that press right now, how many tags will that do in one run?

Well I'll set the number in the machine. I got a number on there. I just—you mean how fast?

No, I mean just how many in one print run through the machine?

At the most, a thousand. Yeah, I do 500 and cut them in two, and that makes 1,000, see. That's on the other side of it.

How many do people order at a time?

Well this was a big order: 5,000. So I do 2,500 and cut them.

And then can I ask you how prices have changed since you started doing these tags? What they were then and what they are now?

I charge forty-seven dollars [per] a thousand and hooks [to attach the tags to the bags of oysters].

So what was the price for 1,000 [tags] when you first started?

[Laughs] About four [dollars] and fifty [cents], I think. Now it's forty-seven dollars for two sides printed see on Tyvek paper, which is a good price.

And so I see all these posters in the back here, too. Can you tell me what some of those are?

Well I used to do all those political posters. I just covered up that old dirty wall with them. And so long as they're still up there blowing, I know they're still right here.

Do you still do that kind of work for the town [of Apalachicola]?

Nah, it's all changed. Printing has changed. It's all changed.

How so?

Well it's all that you see is magazine, color printing. I can never do anything like that. In other words, the world went off and left me. [Laughs]

What do you like best about how you work here?

Just got a place to come to get out—just got a place to go and a bunch like these gentlemen come by.

Yeah, you were mentioning that some folks come by and hang out…What do y’all do when you visit? Just hang out?

Well they settle in—natural situations, domestic situations and medical clinic; we—we cover all phases of it. [Laughs]

Do you play cards or anything or just talk?

No, no, they all retired but me, and I'm just hanging around seeing what the hell is going to happen next. [Laughs]

So you're going to keep this place open and running as long as you can?

That's right. I don't work in the afternoons—just the mornings.

Does anybody around town know how this operation works and can come in behind you?

No, no. No, it's all changed.

——-

[H]ow have you seen the seafood industry change here on the bay?

Well it's, changed—most of them are ordering the computer tags, and the shrimping industry is—what are we down to about three shrimp houses now? About three shrimp houses is all—Buddy Ward’s a big one and Riverside Seafood. And well Leavins [Seafood] just does oysters. They’re the biggest in the state. And that's about—Water Street Seafood they call it, he's got a lot of fish. That's about it.

How have you witnessed the change of the landscape here, like from your hunting days and catching all those ducks?

Benjamin Franklin says no progress without change but all change isn't progress. That is a pretty good quote. [Laughs] I just hanging around doing tags and do what I can get out doing, so I enjoy it right well.

Do you like the smell of those inks?

You know I don't notice it like—like you. Of course women come in and they detect the smell of ink.

I like it.

Yeah, really? You're not the first one.

What do you do when you first come here in the morning? What is your day like?

Do some oyster tags, make some phone calls.

——-

Do you have—do you have something that you want to say that I didn't ask you or—?

No, we got the same retirees come by here, hang around.

And you'll stay open here until about twelve [noon] and just receive your friends?

Yeah, and do the tags.

To download the entire transcript in PDF form, please click here.