The Sponge Docks 

george & the tarpon sponge company

 

Walking through the gates to the main square of the historic sponge exchange, I hear a series of snips. The succession becomes rapid, almost machine-like. Directly on my left, are baskets upon baskets of fluffy yellow sponge.

 

A small, wooden boat is also filled with sponge for sale. Beautiful plants and bromeliads in potters are scattered and hanging about the Tarpon Sponge Company’s entrance. Past this, is a small doorway.

 

A bright, yellow-toned light seems to spotlight the man responsible for all the snipping. George _____ sits behind the small counter wielding the dusty cash register that’s probably been there for decades. He is at the bull’s-eye of a haphazard ring forged from sponge trimmings scattered on the floor around him.

 

Snip-snip, snip. Snip-snip.

 

George speaks candidly to me as he expertly trims the sponges, casually looking up while he deftly shapes them, making them presentable to sell in the shop. I’m reminded of a shepherd taking shears to his sheep, with the care and loving kindness of a father.

 

“The one I’m trimming right now is the wool sponge, that’s the best quality. They come from very deep water, from seventy five to one hundred, or one hundred-twenty feet.” George has worked at the Tarpon Sponge Company for the past seven years, but for over a century, men like George have been doing the same thing – men sitting in the same room, trimming sponges for sale in the historic Sponge Exchange Square.

 

“This store,” he tells me, “is the original building…over one hundred years old. Everything original is still right here, in the store”.

 

Hanging on the wall opposite the cash register are a few framed, black and white photographs. In one of these, scores of men stand surrounding a mountain of raw sponge for sale.

 

Although the exchange square no longer holds auctions, it is still home to thriving businesses, bustling consumers, and many of the original shops. An overwhelming sense of history is almost tangible.  And without a doubt, the "snipping" sounds I heard have permeated the air at the Docks for over a century.