The Strange Story of Iggy the Iguana
The Strange Story of Iggy the Iguana
One of our EIHS board members recently shared this fascinating article with me. Although I don’t think it quite fits into our Murder Mystery book, the story was simply too good not to share. So here is the strange — and entirely true — tale of Iggy the Iguana.
Headline in the News-Press on September 18, 1935
To tell this story, we need to travel back to 1935, when Fort Myers Beach was little more than a tiny fishing village with a population of around 300 people. The details of this story were pieced together from articles published in
The mystery began in September 1935 when a “dragon-like creature” was spotted crossing San Carlos Boulevard. Lewis B. Reynolds of Selma, Alabama, reportedly saw the creature and even managed to photograph it. The headline that followed captured the imagination of the community:
“Giant Iguana Eludes Posse; Buzzards May Take Trail.”
This is the photo that Mr. Reynolds took of the creature as it crossed the road.
Although we are all too familiar with iguanas on the island today (we have a huge one who lives in our lake), back in 1935, the appearance of this creature caused quite a stir on the island. Men, dogs, and even buzzards were enlisted in the search for the mysterious reptile that had Island residents buzzing with excitement — and a little fear.
For several hours after the sighting, a group of about twenty islanders enlisted the help of their hunting dogs to track the creature. Unfortunately, they were unable to pick up the creature’s scent in the mangroves, and as evening approached, the group abandoned the search. Many concluded that the reptile had likely slipped into the water, disappearing into the mangroves.
After scientists examined the photograph, they suggested the animal was probably a “giant marine iguana” native to the West Indies. According to the experts, these creatures were equally comfortable on land and in the water.
Developer Thomas Phillips speculated that the iguana may have been swept into the backwaters during the devastating 1935 Labor Day Hurricane.
When further searches failed, fishermen theorized that the creature was hiding somewhere among the mangrove islands in the back bay. Their plan was simple: wait for buzzards to circle overhead and investigate the area in hopes the animal had died.
There was one false alarm when a dead animal washed ashore near the south end of the island. At first, residents feared it might be the iguana, but it was later believed to have been a dolphin that had perished during the hurricane.
Eventually, another possible explanation emerged. The News-Press reported that Mrs. Nelson Perry of Sanibel claimed Vincent Astor, returning from the Galápagos Islands, had released six marine iguanas on Matecumbe Key as part of a “natural science experiment.” Supposedly, the Fort Myers Beach reptile was one of those animals.
Residents were assured that the creature was harmless and should not be disturbed.
Then, in October 1937 — two years after the original sighting — the story took another turn.
On a beautiful day on the beach near Nettie’s Restaurant, a man named Mr. Hammer spotted the elusive reptile again. Several men grabbed ropes and headed out to capture it. They eventually cornered the creature near the Gulf Shore Inn, but it slipped into the Gulf before they could secure it.
Not long afterward, the iguana returned to shore, and the men managed to lasso it.
Two years later, the “monster” was finally captured.
The creature measured about four feet long, considerably smaller than the six-foot monster described in earlier reports. One of the men involved in the capture, retired Massachusetts gasoline dealer Mr. Thiers, later told reporters:
“Sure we were afraid, but the big lizard did not seem to be afraid of us, and when we came close, it did not put up any resistance. I slipped the noose around the iguana’s neck and it came along.”
Brent Todd, a naturalist and herpetologist who examined the animal, declared it to be a ring-tailed iguana from Panama rather than a Galápagos marine iguana as originally believed.
The reptile had a long tail banded with yellow and black scales, matching descriptions of the ring-tailed species.
Once captured, the iguana was loaded into a paddy wagon and transported to the Lee County jail in Fort Myers. During the excitement, Joe Sandberg reportedly suffered a painful bite on the finger while attempting to determine “if the iguana had any teeth.”
When word spread about the capture, Fort Myers residents decided the creature should be kept as an attraction in the city park. Interest in the so-called “Monster of Fort Myers Beach” was so great that city officials built a special cage where the iguana — now affectionately named “Iggy” — could entertain visitors by climbing wire fencing, splashing in a bathtub, and scampering through a grapefruit tree placed inside the enclosure.
For a time, Iggy was the only attraction of the city’s tiny “municipal zoo.”
Sadly, the story did not have a happy ending.
In December 1937, Iggy was found dead in his cage. The News-Press reported that the cause of death was “some obscure iguana malady.” Others jokingly suggested the reptile may have died from overeating or excessive Christmas celebrating.
The mayor’s secretary, who had been placed in charge of feeding Iggy, insisted he had carefully followed instructions from reptile experts who advised feeding the animal only once a week.
The final newspaper account ended on a surprisingly touching note:
“Last night, the iguana lay dead in his cage, far from home in the salt water marshes and mangrove jungles, while small children still peered into his cage, remarking how quietly he ‘slept.’”
It remains one of the strangest and most memorable stories ever reported on Fort Myers Beach.
