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El Jobean, Florida History:
El Jobean is one of Southwest Florida’s quirkiest and most curious communities—a name that makes newcomers pause and locals smile. Tucked along the Myakka River just west of Port Charlotte, El Jobean sprang to life in the 1920s as a planned resort community. The town’s name is famously anagrammatic—it was formed by rearranging the letters in the name of its developer: Joel Bean. Yes, really. The dream was to create a riverfront resort with a hotel, fishing pier, and homes for northern snowbirds. A post office opened in 1924, and a few streets were laid out in a traditional grid. But like many Florida boomtowns of the era, El Jobean’s early ambitions were drowned by the Great Depression, hurricanes, and a lack of long-term investment. What remains today is a sleepy but spirited riverside community with deep fishing roots and eccentric charm. Fascinating Tidbits & Secrets:
The El Jobean Hotel was once a popular fishing lodge attracting visitors from across the U.S.—including famed baseball players, sportsmen, and rumored mobsters looking for quiet waters. It eventually fell into disrepair and was torn down in the late 20th century.
El Jobean was once a hotbed for tarpon fishing, and you can still find die-hard anglers launching from the public boat ramp to explore the winding Myakka and the flats beyond.
The post office in El Jobean operated from 1924 to 1964 and became a cultural landmark—locals used to say you hadn’t really "arrived" in El Jobean until you got your mail there.
There’s a folklore tale about a ghostly fisherman who paddles a canoe on foggy mornings near the old hotel site. Some say he's searching for a lost gold coin spilled into the river during a poker game gone wrong.
A portion of the old railroad bed from the Charlotte Harbor and Northern Railway still runs through the area and can be spotted near the Myakka bridges if you know where to look.
Today, El Jobean retains its offbeat, Old Florida spirit. With its colorful homes, salt-rusted mailboxes, and front-porch philosophers, it’s the kind of place where life moves slow, the sunsets are sacred, and stories always get a little taller with each retelling.