It has surf, sand, and postcard sunsets. Describing those sunsets bankrupts the English language, and its sugary white beach may be the whitest to be found on any island. From the sea, the island village comes up suddenly, like a mirage. At first, there is only the expanse of the Gulf of Mexico itself, the sky, and sea birds wheeling overhead. And then, all at once-there it is: the squared contour of the Don CeSar Hotel resembling a pink stucco wedding cake and, southward, a ribbon of beach and a fringe of stumpy houses stark against a cerulean sky. Old Pass-a-Grille, 31 blocks long and one block wide, clings to the Gulf, crowds against the strand, its potpourri of buildings jostling for space on the limited expanse of sand.

Visitors call the effect quaint, an adjective that makes residents wince. Nearly everyone agrees, however, that the place has “character.” One of those with such an opinion was Robert Ripley of “Believe It or Not” fame, who visited Pass-a-Grille when there was less neon, less people, and more hibiscus, palms, and oleanders. He called block-long Eighth Avenue, which passes as a business street, “America’s shortest and most beautiful main street.”

Merchant prince John Wanamaker, who did not gush often, did so over Pass-a-Grille. “I have traveled pretty much all over this old world of ours,” he stated, “but I have found no place

so adapted to the getting and enjoying of good health and entertainment as Pass-a-Grille.”

A municipality for 46 years, Pass-a-Grille is now part of the City of St. Pete Beach politically, but not spiritually. St. Petersburg Beach has its own colorful history with an engaging cast of characters, but it is mostly a product of the period following World War II when vacationers began discovering Florida’s other side-the West Coast. Once they sampled this area’s warmth, friendliness, and its sandy, shell-strewn beaches, visitors came back for more and brought others with them.