Frisky, Fun and Cherished

Hugh and Judy Starnes first danced together more than 40 years ago, at a bar called the Calypso on Fort Myers Beach. It did not go well. Despite Hugh being "a very young, handsome attorney," Judy says, he was no twinkletoes and managed to step on her foot. But when he caught up with her to apologize, "his voice just melted me," Judy recalls.

Since then, Hugh’s footwork has improved considerably. Judy began taking dance lessons 10 years ago, and her husband soon followed: "He decided he better get with the program," Judy says. Now, the couple is skilled enough to take part in dance competitions with their
instructors, events that sometimes last as long as five days and include as many as 120 dances.

And when they attend parties together, prepare to be impressed: "They’re like 20 steps ahead of everyone else," says friend Sandy Stilwell. "They’re like fine-tuned machinery, work well together and dance well together."

Or alone. Judy notes how her husband, once an awkward toe-stepper, is now a world-class toe-tapper, regardless of who is watching. In the nine-to-five world, Hugh is the Honorable Hugh E. Starnes, a Lee County judge, but he’s always ready to cut a rug, a habit that has created some unexpected moments.

"[In the courthouse] he was waiting at the elevator, and he was practicing the cha-cha," Judy says. "And he forgot he was on the security camera, and so everyone at the courthouse was watching him practice the cha-cha. His assistant said, ‘Nice dancing, Judge.’ "

Away from the bench, it’s the same song and dance. The Starnes own a ranch, and out in the pasture, "the cows watch him tango past them," Judy says.

The proof of all this practice has been in the partying. Once, the Starnes always danced together at parties, but now Hugh’s hand is much in demand, Judy says, with ladies lining up to dance with him.

"Sometimes I have to go, ‘No, no, he’s going to dance with me this time, gosh darn it,’ " she says.

After so many years of twirls and turns, the Starnes have learned what they prefer in a social event. It isn’t the flashiest bash with the biggest band and the hottest dance floor. It’s a get-together that’s much more easygoing, with good dance music played at a reasonable volume.

"Usually, at the big galas the dance floor is so packed that there is no longer room to dance, so we have even more fun going to a less congested setting," Judy says.

Perhaps in the pasture, the cows are nodding knowingly.

So here’s the thing about talking to Pam Cronin. You will laugh. You will laugh because she will laugh, and she has an infectious laugh.

"I’ve heard that before," she says. With a laugh.

Pam laughs often and easily and occasionally at inappropriate times, like when she’s pulled over by the police for a traffic ticket. She laughs at appropriate times, too, such as when her husband Tom’s pants fell down in front of Lee County Commissioner Tammy Hall during a recent Groundhog Day party the couple held at the Shell Factory and Nature Park, which they own. Tom had donned what Pam calls a "Southern-style tuxedo" of jacket, tie and shorts for the event, which included an appearance by a live groundhog. But he skipped the suspenders, and a laughter-worthy event ensued.

Tom wasn’t embarrassed, even though the local media recorded the posterior-revealing event for, well, posterity. "Oh, he loved it," she says. "Fortunately, he had black underwear on that day. It wasn’t too noticeable."

It’s possible that not much embarrasses or inconveniences the Cronins. Tom, a real estate developer and bank chairman, is a born ham, Pam says, and social events only serve to stimulate his inner entertainer. At home, he records gag answering machine messages; at parties, he plays the harmonica.

"If you walk into a room and there’s a cluster of people and everyone’s laughing, he’s the center of the group," she says.

Pam is equal parts co-conspirator and straight man: She recently volunteered her husband to play the part of Julius Caesar in a Florida Repertory Theatre fundraiser, only to later learn she had unwittingly committed herself for the role of Cleopatra, too.

Originally, the Cronins bought the Shell Factory as a business and land investment; instead, they’ve invested the past decade of their lives revitalizing it. In October 2007, to celebrate the attraction’s 70-year anniversary, they held a breathtaking 70 events in 70 days there. They also hold events for the community at the Shell Factory, such as honoring Black History Month or the North Fort Myers Relay for Life, which Pam co-chairs.

"It’s a labor of love," Pam says of the Shell Factory. "It’s a fun property; it’s never a dull moment." A moment later, she adds: "Everything we do is a party."

Friend Sandy Stilwell agrees, describing the Cronin household as a place where there’s "a constant party going on." But there’s more to it: "They have the art of friendship down to a science," Sandy says of Tom and Pam.

Sandy is a frequent guest at Pam’s "Girlee Girlz" cocktail parties, a monthly affair with a guest list of as many as 50 women.

"We just get together and talk and have fun, and nobody’s allowed to bring anything, nobody’s allowed to cook anything. I want it to be very impromptu," says Pam. "It’s just about getting together and spending time together. It reminds us once a month how many friends we have and how lucky we are."

Who says conversation is a lost art? Certainly not Mana Holtz—and probably not anyone who knows her, either. A charming and versatile conversationalist, Mana is the sort of party guest for whom small talk isn’t a chore but a pleasure. And that’s not the only attribute that earns Mana so many invitations.

"She’s got a presence," says friend Jacke McCurdy of Mana. "When she goes to a party, you know it."

Mana’s background as a former university administrator could easily provide her with plenty of conversation-starters, but so too could her level of community involvement: She volunteers with the Naples Philharmonic Center for the Arts, the Shelter for Abused Women and Children, the Boys and Girls Club of Collier County and has just been tapped to chair the Women’s Initiative for the Community Foundation of Collier County. She’s also an avid boater and is currently promoting two television series she has produced.

But listing one’s brilliant credentials, marvelous creations or, worst of all, extravagant personal possessions is a serious social gaffe, she notes—although it’s one she admits she has occasionally encountered on her party rounds.

Instead, when it comes to captivating cocktail conversation, Mana reveals the secret isn’t in the telling; it’s in the asking.

"I like to just ask people about themselves, about if they’ve been someplace fascinating or if there’s a new, important book that’s out that’s fun to talk about, or if there are some news items that are hot on the press, unless it’s religion. We don’t want to talk about politics or religion, that’s for sure," she says. "But it’s interesting how many people end up talking about it."

Also, "no organ recitals," Mana gently advises. That’s what Mana and her friends have dubbed a certain kind of conversation-killer when guests bemoan all their aches and ailments for everyone else in attendance. "Those are just topics that are best left in the privacy of your own home," she says.

When it comes to working a room, Mana won’t allow wallflowers to drift into the background. "She’s really good at walking into a room and introducing everybody and herself," says friend Sandra Hesse. "Anybody around a room is going to get pulled in and introduced."

Finally, if it looks as though all good conversation is going to the dogs, it might be an excellent idea to just allow it. One of the most memorable parties Mana has attended was a birthday party thrown for her beloved Yorkie, Thurber, by her friend Barbara DuFrane at DuFrane Jewelers in Bonita Springs.

"We invited all of Thurber’s doggie friends, and we all sat on the floor, trying to keep our dogs apart from each other, and the dogs were served treats in a silver bowl and the adults ate finger sandwiches and a cake with a hydrant on it," Mana recalls. "There was a salesman sitting on a stool, just shaking his head, saying ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’ "

Barbara DuFrane has a soft spot for entertaining. She has a special fondness for even the most delicate little details, the crystal and the china, and loves to cook, curling up on Sunday afternoons with cookbooks, just to read.