A Cemetery From the Days of Jim Crow

I wasn't sure what to expect during my visit to the Lincoln Memorial Park Cemetery. It was located in Miami, but away from the white sand and high-rise buildings of Miami Beach and the cute little restaurants with roosters in Little Havana.

Of here I had read stories of neglect, trash, homeless people sleeping amidst the graves, and crime. This was an all-Black cemetery that dated back to the days of segregation and Jim Crow. I also read that “they” were working on cleaning it up. What would I find?

We pulled off Florida State Road 112 into what is known as the Brownsville neighborhood. As we turned left onto NW 46th Street I could immediately see the cemetery on our right, but also two cop cars with their lights on at a convenience store on the corner.

We purposely continued past the cemetery, just to scope things out. An iron-slatted fence surrounded the graveyard and through the slats I could see the gray tombs. Honestly, even with the two cop cars, it seemed like a very peaceful, but humble neighborhood. Finally we pulled to a stop beneath a large shade tree across from the only entrance to the cemetery.

The cemetery opened in 1924. One of the unique features are the above-ground burial vaults. I read that this style imitated the “Bahamian tradition,” referring to graveyards in the Bahamas. There the graves were placed mostly above the ground because of the high water table.

I began walking through the cemetery with interest. Most of the graves were in similar stone vaults, nearly all of them so close together that there was no room to walk between. There were very few headstones.  Most of the inscriptions were on the vaults, most of which were eroded and illegible. A small number of the boxes were whitewashed or painted pink, but most were a stone-gray. The earliest death date I found was 1928 and the newest 2021.

One of the vaults was broken on the front and I could peer inside and see a casket. It made me wonder if the lids on these were sealed or if someone could pull them off and look inside.

Some had a bas-relief of a cross on the lid. Others were decorated with trinkets. A very small portion had flowers on top. The vast majority of the tombs had nothing to distinguish them from the others. They appeared nearly identical.

Who were the people buried in this cemetery? Obviously they were African Americans who lived after the days of slavery, but still during an era of segregation. According to one article, many of these people worked in Coral Gables or other wealthy areas of Miami, but were not allowed to live near their employment. Many came to the Brownsville neighborhood where they lived and were buried.

There is an interesting story associated with the beginnings of the cemetery. Originally it was a vacant lot owned by a white realtor, F.B. Miller. During the days of lynchings, one of the local black men, Kelsey Leroy Pharr, would cut the victims from the rope. Then at night he would come to the lot and secretly bury them. One night Mr. Miller caught Mr. Pharr burying a corpse. Instead of becoming irate, Miller had compassion and decided to deed the lot to Pharr to use as an African American burial ground.

One of the few mausoleums in Lincoln Memorial Park.

In the center of the cemetery was a house. Supposedly this was where the owners lived. I expected someone to come out and either say hello, or kick me out. But no one did. I was the only person in the cemetery the entire time I was there.

I didn't think the cemetery looked too dirty. There was very little trash. In a few places vines had grown over the graves. A handful of vaults had been broken, including one lid that was placed directly in the walkway. But I would say that overall it was very clean, especially considering it had a history of neglect and disrepair.

There are some questions I always have at any cemetery I visit: Do the descendants of these people know their ancestors are buried here? Do they visit them? And in this case, are they able to identify the graves?

Searching on sites such as Find a Grave and Family Search, I was able to find small nuggets of biographical information. The first came in the form of a death certificate.

Allen Stokes was born in 1870 in Branchville, South Carolina. His father was Landis Stokes and his mother unknown. His race, colored. His marital status was listed as “married,” and occupation as “retired grocer.” It doesn't state the manner in which Allen Stokes died, just that he died in Miami, Dade County Florida on July 13, 1931.

Grave of Allen Stokes. 

Within the cemetery there are a few family plots that are fenced off. One of these belongs to the Wilkinson family. The patriarch is Samuel Charles Wilkinson. I was able to find a short bio of him.

He and his wife Sophia were born in the Bahamas. They moved to Key West in 1879 or 1880. In the official records they were both described as being mulatto, meaning they had a mixed ancestry of Black and White. In the 1910 census, Sophia indicated she had had 14 live births. In the 1920's, Sam and Sophia followed their adult kids to Miami. At least four of his kids are buried in the Lincoln Cemetery. One of his granddaughters, Athalie Range, became an influential civil rights activist. She fought for better school conditions for Black children and was the first Black American to serve on the Miami City Commission.

Gated plot for the family of Samuel Charles Wilkinson. 

After visiting the cemetery we went to a Black-owned barbeque pit a few blocks away. I ordered a beef rib sandwich, which to my surprise included the bones. The barbeque sauce was yellow and a mess to eat, but tasted wonderful. The lady behind the counter called me “love” and Jenelle “ma'am.”

Afterward, an elderly Black man offered to throw away my food. I soon learned he was a beggar wanting money. I gave him five dollars. Later, as we drove away, I saw him eating off one of the bones I had left in the box. ♠

Savory beef ribs.

Brother and Sisters Barbeque Pit.

Slave Cemetery at Mingus Mill

Tucked away beneath a canopy of trees in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina stands a gristmill that was operated by the Mingus and Enloe families in the mid-nineteenth century. A quiet stream is diverted into a trough that was once used to power millstones that ground corn into meal. 

Nowadays it lies within the boundaries of Great Smokey Mountains National Park and attracts a modest amount of visitors. On the far side of the parking lot from the mill is a narrow trail that leads into the trees and up a hill. It is neither marked nor noticeable to the casual visitor. 

About one hundred feet up the trail is a small burial ground consisting of five mounds in two separate rows. Small rocks with no inscriptions act as crude headstones. Pennies have been placed at each headstone to show their respect. Some say the pennies are left as a symbolic gesture of the Great Emancipator, Abraham Lincoln. Others say it is an old African tradition where the dead pay a toll to the underworld. 

The burials are those of slaves, most likely servants of the Mingus or Enloe families. No one knows exactly who they were. 

It is a solemn feeling to be here. Away from the roads we can hear no cars. Even though the sky is overcast, a brightness seems to shine through the grove of trees. The forest teems with life.

Who are the people buried here and what kind of life did they lead? Did their owners treat them well? Where did they live? Were they all one family or had some been traded or sold and broken up? What were their names? These are questions that may never be answered. 

From here we leave the tiny cemetery and mill, likely never to return. To me this little burial ground is a microcosm of the Appalachians as a whole⸺deep, hidden, draped in history and abounding in mystique. ♠