ORLANDO – On a hot summer day, Michael Hoffman adjusted his young son’s grip on a makeshift fishing rod dangling over a group of alligators hungry for food.

“Whoa, hang on a second, buddy,” said Hoffman, an antique dealer, as a baby alligator bit at the fishing line.

This marked the first time Hoffman introduced his son to a family tradition that began with his own father during their yearly trips from Maryland to the Florida Keys, which included a stop at Gatorland.

“We love coming here,” Hoffman stated, as his wife, Cheryl, assisted their daughter in tossing fish scraps to the alligators. “Where else can you feed a gator, get this close, and not face arrest?”

Claiming to be the “Gator Capital of the World,” this theme park represents a rarity within the tourism scene. As the first significant tourist attraction in central Florida, Gatorland has persevered through numerous challenges that have caused other attractions to close down.

Gatorland was founded in the late 1940s, well before the advent of high-speed highways and decades preceding the rise of Walt Disney World as a major tourist destination.

While many roadside attractions have shut down due to competition from large theme parks and the increased ease of air travel, Gatorland is celebrating its 75th anniversary with record visitor numbers.

What is their secret? Instead of trying to compete directly with renowned parks, Gatorland embraces the vision of “old Florida,” which, though simplified and exaggerated, resonates with visitors increasingly interested in that aspect of the state.

“People adore Florida – the concept of it – and when they visit here, they specifically want to see gators,” remarked Mark McHugh, Gatorland’s president and CEO. He adjusted his white cowboy hat while observing the lagoon at the park’s heart. “This is alligator paradise.”

Zip lines, mud ponds, and a variety of reptiles

In late June, Beth Peterson and her daughter, Lily, left their bags at Orlando International Airport and took an Uber to Gatorland for their 2 p.m. slot on the “Screamin’ Gator Zip Line.”

Suspended 65 feet off the ground, the mother and daughter joined a group of 20 people gliding over a quarter-mile stretch of the park, including directly above alligator enclosures. “It was nerve-wracking,” admitted 11-year-old Lily, who had also taken a picture with a baby alligator earlier.

“But now you’re an alligator expert,” her mother, Beth, chimed in.

A little later, a dozen visitors strapped themselves into a monster-style buggy, which sped over rough hills and muddy trails in the park’s woods. Arnold Hudson and Asha Crumlin screamed with laughter as the driver made sharp turns and the tour guide, donning a backwards baseball cap and camo shirt, shared humorous anecdotes.

“You all know about Disney magic? Well, we have redneck magic!”

The couple had traveled to Orlando for the week from Washington D.C. to visit family and enjoy Disney World. Hudson, who had visited Gatorland more than ten years ago, wanted his girlfriend to experience “the authentic Florida” on her first visit to the Sunshine State.

“Everyone must visit Gatorland when they’re in Florida; it’s just part of the experience,” he remarked. Later in the day, the couple posed for a picture while straddling a 10-foot alligator.

The park isn’t solely a destination for tourists from Disney. Rosanne and Luigi Racanelli have been visiting Gatorland since they relocated to Orlando from Queens, New York, in 1988.

The pair frequently enjoyed their time at the park throughout the 1990s and 2000s, often bringing their three children during long weekends and school vacations.

As children mature and parents grow older, they have also seen Gatorland evolve from a kitschy attraction into a large theme park.

“I have family albums featuring my father-in-law posing with a gator here,” said Rosanne Racanelli. “This venue means a lot to us.”

A Pit and an Alligator

Owen Godwin, who previously worked as a butcher, owned a restaurant, and acted as a postmaster, started the roadside attraction that later became Gatorland in 1949. This was during a time of post-war prosperity when many families from northern states packed their station wagons and headed to the Sunshine State to escape harsh winter chills.

Similar to many lively Floridians, Godwin recognized a chance to showcase the unique features of his state to the arriving visitors.

“It was quite easy to enter the attraction business back then,” stated James Clark, a history professor at the University of Central Florida, who has extensively researched Florida tourism. “All you needed was a roadside structure, some cold beverages, an alligator in a cage out back, and a sign out front to jump into the tourism sector.”

Godwin did exactly that, with support from his young family and members of the Seminole tribe; he built the park on a 15-acre plot of sunken land on the borders of Kissimmee and Orlando, which was then filled with vast orange orchards.

Winter periods saw steady attendance; however, summers often resulted in a dip in visitors, prompting Godwin to travel to where the tourists resided.

In a trailer equipped with a bathtub, a fan, and a heating pad, Godwin showcased a 12-foot alligator named “Cannibal Jake,” traveling as far as New Jersey’s boardwalk, mesmerising northern tourists. This strategy, alongside the earnings from his clandestine gambling, kept his business alive.

Winning Combination: Highways and Mickey Mouse

The park expanded over the next two decades, and Godwin became a legendary figure around Orlando and Kissimmee, meticulously cultivating an image of a rugged traveler often depicted wearing a fedora, a leopard-print vest, and tall boots, as noted by the Florida Historical Quarterly.

However, prosperity took an abrupt turn with the onset of two major construction projects that would lead to significant changes impacting not just Orlando but the entire state of Florida.

The first event was the introduction of interstate highways during the late 1950s and 1960s, which greatly reduced the foot traffic that attractions like Gatorland relied on. Back then, roadside attractions only needed eye-catching signs or quirky sculptures to attract travelers—Gatorland boasted a 15-foot blue and pink alligator jaw at its entrance to draw in visitors.

Then, on October 1, 1971, came the monumental shift: Disney World opened its gates to the public, completely transforming Florida’s tourism landscape. Now, visitors flocked to the Sunshine State to explore the Magic Kingdom, Cinderella’s Castle, and enjoy encounters with Mickey Mouse. As the massive theme park expanded with hotels and dining options on-site, many smaller attractions across the state closed their doors.

“Disney was absolutely the game-changer,” stated Clark.

Following the debut of Disney World, along with the eventual arrivals of SeaWorld and Universal Orlando Resort, over 80% of Florida’s roadside attractions, both major and minor, shut down, as noted by Steve Noll, a history professor at the University of Florida.

During this challenging time, Gatorland, now managed by Frank Godwin, Owen’s son, began promoting itself as a low-cost alternative while enhancing its facilities, including the addition of an 800-seat stadium for the park’s renowned alligator wrestling show. Though these efforts managed to prevent a complete shutdown, by the mid-1990s, Gatorland appeared to be heading toward an inevitable closure.

Gatorland Embraces Modern Changes

McHugh, who is now the CEO and president of Gatorland, initially experienced the park as a tourist. His connection deepened when he married Diane, the daughter of Frank Godwin, in 1985 while they both worked as animal trainers at SeaWorld. Ten years later, McHugh succeeded his father-in-law and led the park through its most significant expansion and a major evolution in operations.

To attract adventurous teens and young adults, McHugh initiated the development of a nationally recognized zip-line in 2011, along with a swamp buggy ride that offers thrilling off-road experiences through the park’s thick forests and muddy ponds.

These rides were part of a broader strategy to “stay current,” McHugh explained. For instance, he revamped the park’s well-known gator wrestling show to emphasize educational aspects, sharing interesting facts about alligators and giving advice on how to avoid dangerous encounters rather than focusing solely on wrestling them.

“We had to evolve,” McHugh stated, noting the changing tastes of the public – an insight shared by experts in the field.

“The type of entertainment that people accept has transformed, shifting away from cruelty to a greater recognition of animal welfare,” mentioned Andrew Frank, a history professor at Florida State University, pointing out the decline of traditional circuses as a prime example, largely due to concerns about animal treatment.

Transition from Alligator Farming to Conservation

A major transformation at Gatorland took place early in McHugh’s leadership, away from the eyes of visitors.

In the 1980s and 1990s, under Frank Godwin’s guidance, Gatorland began an alligator farming operation to counter a prolonged sales slump. After the American alligator was delisted from the endangered species list, alligator farms began to proliferate in Florida. However, not only was the alligator farming financially unsuccessful, but it also sparked an identity crisis for the park.

While families were enjoying photographs and feeding sessions with the alligators on one side of the park, the other side was dedicated to farming alligators for their meat and hides, which were later crafted into items like shoes and handbags.

“Ultimately, we reached a crossroads,” McHugh recalled. “On one side, we were evolving into a conservation-focused establishment, but on the other, we were still raising alligators for their meat and skins. We had to make a choice.”

In 1998, McHugh and the board decided to stop the farming operations. Although Gatorland continues to raise alligators from young stages, it no longer slaughters them for meat or hides. “We still offer alligator nuggets, which is our top food request,” McHugh noted, “but we source it from major food suppliers, rather than breeding our own gators for it.”

With the alligator farming behind him, McHugh initiated several conservation initiatives, including a 10-acre breeding marsh. In 2018, he launched Gatorland Global, a program dedicated to rescuing alligators that would have otherwise faced euthanasia. These alligators are often labeled as “nuisances,” as they have had close encounters with humans in places like golf courses and apartment complexes.

The first “nuisance alligator” to arrive at Gatorland was Chester, who had previously “eaten a couple of dogs” near a pond in Tampa in the early 2000s. More recently, the park took in Larry, a 12-foot alligator that frightened residents at the Villages retirement community, and Jawlene, named after Dolly Parton’s song “Jolene,” due to her missing upper jaw.

Currently, Gatorland houses over 2,500 American alligators and crocodiles, according to Brandon Fisher, the park’s resident alligator specialist.

“Every year, we go through approximately 200,000 pounds of meat,” he revealed.

Surge in Attendance Points to a Bright Future

McHugh’s plan for an ideal alligator haven not only seems to be progressing but has also resulted in a notable increase in visitor numbers. On December 29, during the peak of its busy season, Gatorland recorded 5,000 visitors – the highest single-day attendance in its history.

McHugh attributes the uptick in ticket sales to several factors, including a special long-term offer for Florida residents ($9.99 per adult), the growing population of the state, and an active social media campaign. This includes Gatorland’s daily “School of Croc” Facebook Live show, which attracted thousands of viewers during the initial lockdowns of the COVID-19 pandemic as staff showcased the park’s animals.

Currently, McHugh believes that the only way Gatorland, Orlando’s original tourist attraction, would close is through a buyout.

With Florida’s population booming and Orlando recognized as one of the fastest-growing cities in the U.S., the 105-acre Gatorland property, located conveniently near Orlando’s tourist area and downtown, could potentially hold more value than the park itself.

“The land might already be worth more than the park,” McHugh stated. “But unless the board makes that decision, Gatorland will remain open.”

For now, both loyal visitors and newcomers will continue to enjoy close interactions with the well-known reptiles at a location many view as one of the last true pieces of old Florida.

“This is about as Florida as it gets,” remarked Megan Zapata right before she and her two sons, aged 11 and 13, zip-lined over an alligator enclosure.