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The Phillips family loved music. So they made sure that their wealth would nurture the arts just as it had their citrus groves.

By Randy Noles

From their grand Victorian home on Lake Lucerne in downtown Orlando, citrus magnate Dr. Philip Phillips—his friends called him “Doc”—and his golden-haired wife, Della, routinely hosted community musicales featuring the most accomplished instrumentalists of the early 20th century. (The home is still there, by the way, now a wedding and event venue).

Della was herself an accomplished pianist. Doc sawed on a fiddle—it’s said that he could manage a competent “Turkey in the Straw”—although no one would have accused him of being a musician.

It hardly mattered. From around 1910 until the 1930s, the couple enjoyed bringing performers from around the world to Orlando—then a relatively sleepy agricultural community—both for their own enjoyment and that of their friends and neighbors, who would attend concerts on their expansive lawn.

Dr. Philip Phillips—his friends called him “Doc.”
Courtesy of Dr. Phillips Charities. Dr. Philip Phillips—his friends called him “Doc.”

They even built the Dr. Phillips Theater (no, not Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts, which is a different story) on Orange Avenue and Pine Street. The movie-house, replete with neo-baroque and art deco elements, debuted in 1917 with the now-forgotten silent flick Wild and Woolly, which starred Douglas Fairbanks. (The building is still there, and, after an 18-year run as a theater, served a variety of uses and is now the future home of a nightclub.)

The point is, Doc and Della were always interested in providing entertainment for local residents and were perhaps the earliest and most important patrons of the arts in Orlando, which was then primarily a citrus-growing community with big-city ambitions.

That’s why it’s no surprise that the Dr. P. Phillips Foundation and Dr. Phillips Inc.—a pair of nonprofit organizations referred to collectively (and unofficially) as Dr. Phillips Charities—is also a major supporter of the arts whose gifts have benefited virtually every arts organization that serves Orange and Osceola counties.

“We’ve been involved in United Arts since its inception,” says Kenneth D. Robinson, president and CEO. In April, Dr. Phillips Charities announced a $200,000 multiyear grant to United Arts to fund a senior director of development position.

But the organization has become even more engaged since the arrival of United Arts president and CEO Jennifer Evins in 2021. “She’s lifting all of the arts in Central Florida,” notes Robinson.

Adds Evins: “This significant investment will help United Arts serve a rapidly growing arts and cultural community by bolstering its ability to attract more donors from diverse sources and the next generation of arts consumers and supporters.”

But just who was this “Dr. Phillips” guy? Most relative newcomers know that Dr. Phillips is the name of a suburb in unincorporated West Orlando that’s noted for its upscale neighborhoods and such dining and retail destinations as Restaurant Row and the Mall at Millenia.

They know Dr. Phillips as the name of a high school, a hospital and a world-class downtown performing arts center (which, by the way, finally became a reality in large part thanks to the organization’s early $25 million donation, which was followed by an additional $10 million donation for Phase II and its anchor venue, Steinmetz Hall).

But they may not know that the flesh-and-blood Dr. Phillips was a major grower who made orange juice synonymous with Florida.

Philip Phillips was born in 1875—yes, it’s that event’s 150th anniversary this year—attended medical school at Columbia University in New York and may have practiced medicine briefly in Tennessee.

But he made his fortune in Central Florida, where the Dr. Phillips Citrus Company was, at one time, the largest citrus producer in the world, growing and selling 100 million oranges annually. In the years before frozen concentrated orange juice, he assembled a team that invented a “flash” pasteurization process that enabled juice to be canned and chilled while retaining its fresh-squeezed taste.

Then he marketed the canned juice nationally as being both delicious and healthful, using the tagline, “Drink Dr. Phillips’ orange juice because the Doc says it’s good for you.” That claim was later confirmed by the American Medical Association, which issued the popular product its seal of approval.

In what may have been the largest business acquisition in the history of the industry, Phillips sold his packing operation and citrus groves in 1954 to Granada Groves, a partnership between Investors Diversified Services and Minute Maid. He died in 1959 and was posthumously elected to the Florida Citrus Hall of Fame in 1986.

Following the sale of the citrus business, Dr. Phillips Inc. was run by Doc’s Harvard-educated son, Howard, who changed its focus to investing in commercial real estate. At the same time, the Dr. P. Phillips Foundation was formed for charitable endeavors.

Howard, one of Central Florida’s most prominent patrons of the arts, died in 1979 and left no heirs. Following Howard’s death—and in accordance with his wishes—Dr. Phillips Inc. was also converted into a nonprofit organization, whose combined activities constitute Dr. Phillips Charities.

Jim Hinson, who joined Dr. Phillips Inc. in 1957 as a bookkeeper, became president of the charitable powerhouse in 1985. He retired from the presidency in 2008 and became chairman of the board of directors, a position he held until stepping down in 2014. He died the following year.

Robinson, a former insurance executive, remains president and CEO. “One thing that makes us differ from other charitable organizations is that we continue to actively run a business,” he says. And it’s quite a business indeed, owning and managing more than 1.5 million square feet of rental properties with more than 90 tenants.

The organization’s current big project: The Packing District, a $700 million, 202-acre mixed-use development centered at the intersection of Princeton Street and Orange Blossom Trail in Orlando. Phase II of the four-phase master plan, which will unfold over decades, is now underway.

Courtesy of Dr. Phillips Charities. Dr. Phillips Charities’ current project is The Packing District (below), an ambitious wellness-oriented mixed-use development that encompasses 202 acres centered at Princeton Street and Orange Blossom Trail.”

The Packing District—so named because it was once the location of a large citrus packing plant—includes a 100-acre public space, Grove Park, which was gifted to the City of Orlando and includes the Della Phillips Pavilion. The Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra will perform its free Holiday Pops concert at the pavilion on Saturday, December 14, at 6 p.m.

In addition to homes, offices, retail outlets and a food hall, The Packing District is also home to a YMCA, the Orlando Tennis Centre and 4Roots Farm & Agriculture Center. In an homage to the property’s history, there’s even a replica of the juice stand that the citrus company operated on the site from the 1920s through the 1950s.

Profits from development and other enterprises are nearly all returned to the community in the form of grants—more than $240 million to date—many of which benefit arts organizations.

Dr. Phillips Charities, for example, was a primary donor to Orlando Ballet’s reimagined version of The Nutcracker. It has also benefited Crealdé School of Art, Opera Orlando, Orlando Family Stage, Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra, Orlando Science Center and WDM Theatre Corp. in addition to Dr. Phillips Center and United Arts.

“It’s very humbling to be able to continue the legacy of the Phillips family,” says Robinson, who lives in Seminole County with Cindy, his wife of 38 years. “It’s very important to always be growing, and to contribute more the following year than we contributed the year before. That way we can continue to make a significant impact in the community.”

That’s been true for generations of the organization whose motto is “to help others help themselves.” So next time you attend a performance, look on the program for the name of the man whose philanthropic nature probably helped make it possible. And maybe offer up a toast in his honor at dinner—preferably with a glass of orange juice.

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