What's A Dreadnaught?
By: Don Murray - Fall of 1996

"Mister, what's a Dreadnaught?" I've been asked that question any number of times in places like West Palm Beach, Tampa, Sarasota, Kissimmee, and even Winter Haven. It's probably happened to you if you're the Lakeland High School football fan we hope you are. As a matter of fact the first Dreadnaught wasn't a Dreadnaught at all, it was a Dreadnought, a British ship of the line which fought against the French forces at Trafalgar under the British Admiral Lord Nelson.

A century later a whole class of fighting ships were dubbed Dreadnoughts and were, at the time, the most massive pieces of fighting machinery the world had yet seen. How then did this ponderous sea machine come to lend its name to a small mid-Florida school (and town) in the early 1920s? Well, once upon a time, just 73 years ago in 1923, Lakeland High School had quite a football team. They breezed through the season with a 10-0 demolishing such foes as Orlando (34-6), Gainesville (3-0), Clearwater (19-0), Summerlin-Bartow (27-0), and Hillsborough (14-6). Blessed with a great football team, the school also sported a legendary principal. The late I.G. McKay (pronounced McKai in the Scottish manner) was quite a man. Short, stocky, with a bristling mustache and penetrating eyes, McKay was a disciplinarian in the most literal sense of the word.

Some of you old timers are likely stealing a smile as you read this, remembering that no matter how big or tough you were, you didn't cross paths with that ex-British soldier and come out a winner. Anyway, after the defeat of arch-rival Hillsborough, the principal called the student body to assembly. As usual, when McKay approached the lectern and raised his hand, complete silence fell over the assembled students; and he spoke. He recounted the exploits of the team and spoke for the players, C. T. Butler, fullback; Ernest (Goof) Bowyer, quarterback; Sloppy Murrell, center, and all the others who had contributed to the undefeated season. Then, in the oratorical style of the day, he compared the team to a mighty Dreadnaught, rolling over the opponents as just a massive ship steams through stormy seas. At the close of his speech, McKay suggested that from that day on the team be known as "The Dreadnaught," and the name has stuck for 73 years. And I'll bet you one thing, you never heard of another team with our name. If you're like me, you wouldn't have it any other way.

 

 

Ship and Bell
By Lennie Ruff - The Bagpipe - September 12, 1978

Last year [1977] at the football jamboree in Winter Haven, Mr. [John] Ward,* Mr. [Elmer] Banks, and Mr. [Jim] Booth were sitting there watching the proceedings when they realized that every school except Lakeland had some sort of mascot or token that they could pull around on the field.

Upon deciding that the folks at Lakeland needed something, too, they then had to figure out what it should be. Since it's slightly difficult to pull a real Dreadnaught around, they hit upon the idea of something that every good ship has, a bell.

Next question: Where to get a bell? The logical place to ask would be a senator (or so it is said). So a letter was sent to Senator Lawton Chiles through his aide Charles Canady. A few weeks later, Mr. Ward received a letter from the Department of the Navy saying that if the school would pay the shipping charges, they would send the bell here. That is how the school actually got the bell. But, where did it originally come from? When was it made? What was its history?

To find the answers to these questions, the school sent an inquiry to the National Archives. The Archives sent back a bundle full of letters and other documents.

It turns out, that in December 1909, after the government had dredged out the Cape Porpoise Harbor in Maine, the harbor was still dangerous to enter in foggy or bad weather. To help remedy the situation, a total of 86 people related to the harbor, including the port warden of Maine, signed a petition asking that a fog bell, of suitable weight and size, struck by machinery during foggy weather, be established at the Goat Island Light Station. Off went the petition to Washington, followed by a year of circulating letters. Letters to the Department of the Commerce and Labor, to the Corps of Engineers, back to the people in Maine, again to the engineers, and so forth. Finally, in early 1911, the government approved the project and opened bidding for the job. The Meenly Company received the task of installing the 1200 pound bell and all of its equipment. The estimated cost of the bell was around 28 to 38 cents per pound.

So there it was, at the Goat Island Light Station for years, ringing once every 20 seconds, warning sailors of the rocky hazards.*John Ward was principal at LHS from 1971-1983; Elmer Banks and Jim Booth were assistant principals.