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.

St. Augustine, Florida

My first experience with St. Augustine could have killed me.
 
We were driving across the bridge over the Matanzas river when suddenly I saw a traffic light—which I thought was a ridiculous place to have it. I almost didn't stop. There wasn't even an intersection. Then it dawned on me. This could be a drawbridge!
 
We don't have drawbridges where I come from. I've never seen one in person, and frankly, I wasn't even sure they really existed. But within seconds, the road before us began to rise until it came to a ninety-degree angle. Within just a couple minutes a gap had been created in the bridge and soon a sail boat with a tall mast came gliding through the aperture. Boy, was I glad we had stopped!
 

Drawbridge at the Bridge of Lions in St. Augustine.

Little did I know that the river we had just crossed played a crucial role in the founding of St. Augustine. In the year 1564 the land that is now the United States was wild and unexplored by Europeans. This was also a period engulfed in the passions and conflicts of the Protestant Reformation. Would these new conquered lands become Catholic or Protestant nations?
 
In this year Fort Caroline, in the northern extremes of Florida along the Atlantic Coast, was established by Huguenots (French Protestants). This resulted in the ire of the Spanish who had already claimed the land. Fort Caroline also provided a strategic base where it could attack Spanish treasure fleets sailing along the coast back to Europe.
 

View of the Matanzas River from Fort Matanzas.

To counter this move, King Phillip II sent Admiral Pedro Menéndez de Avilés with over 800 people to remove the French. After a brief skirmish between the two armies, the Spanish retired to the newly founded post of St. Augustine, some 35 miles south of Fort Caroline. On September 10, 1565 Jean Ribault, the leader of the French, sailed to attack St. Augustine. Unfortunately for them, they encountered a hurricane that sent them further south and wrecked their boat. Menéndez took full advantage of the largely unoccupied settlement and easily captured Fort Caroline.
 
Upon his return to St. Augustine he learned from the Timucuan Indians of a group of white men on a beach a few miles to the south. He marched with 50 soldiers and found about 130 shipwrecked Frenchmen trying to make their way back to Fort Caroline, but who had been blocked in their journey by an inlet of the Matanzas River. They were hungry and worn, and Menéndez informed them that he had already captured the fort. He urged the men to surrender, with no promise of clemency. They did surrender, and upon bringing them across the river he slaughtered all of them but sixteen. Two weeks later a similar scene unfolded. In all nearly 250 were killed. Hence the name of the Matanzas River, which comes from the Spanish word for “slaughters.”
 

Streets of St. Augustine, Florida.

We continued onto Anastasia Island where we checked into our Airbnb and then connected with our friends, Wendy and Dirk, who live in St. Augustine. Originally we hadn't planned on coming this far north into Florida, but we were made a deal that if we spent a couple nights in St. Augustine, then Dirk and Wendy's grandson, Gavin, would come all the way from North Carolina to meet us . . . AND they would teach us to surf! Not a bad proposition. Of course, Gavin's mother, Vanessa, would have to drive him, and I believe the journey would be eight hours each way, so we appreciated their sacrifice. Gavin had been close friends with my daughter, Savanah, so they were anxious to meet up.
 
After meeting with them we all headed toward town. On the way there we stopped at a lighthouse, crossed another drawbridge at the Bridge of Lions, and rode a carousel for one dollar a person. Now we were parked and ready to explore the Colonial Quarter on foot.
 

Governor's House in the Colonial Quarter of St. Augustine.

St. Augustine is the longest continually inhabited city of European origin in the continuous forty-eight states. It is now 455 years old. Walking through the streets does not have the same feel as walking through the ancient Gothic Quarter of Barcelona, for example. No. Walking through the streets of St. Augustine is akin to walking through Disneyland. Everything is commercialized. Nothing looks old. All the buildings have a fresh coat of bright paint. And prices are sky-high.
 
But, having said that, it was pleasant to walk along these pedestrian roadways. We began on Spanish Street and ended on St. George Street. There are clothing stores, restaurants, gelato shops, souvenir stores and the occasional historical landmark. We also saw a street performer and horse-drawn carriage rides.
 
On Spanish Street we came across a beige-colored two-story home built in 1807, known as one of the original Minorcan homes. Minorca is part of the Balearic Islands in the Mediterranean Sea, and in 1767 a Scottish man named Andrew Turnbull led a group of 1,000 Minorcans to Florida as indentured servants to work on his indigo plantation. After a few years of disease and toil, many in the weary group fled their master and sought refuge in St. Augustine. At the time St. Augustine had come under British Rule, but in 1783 with the second Treaty of Paris, the territory was given back to Spain. Ironically, the island of Minorca was also given to Spain as part of that same treaty, as were the Bahama Islands. The Minorcans have since played a key role in the growth and culture of St. Augustine.
 

Triay-Hall House built in 1807 is an original Minorcal home.

We walked along St. George Street as far as the cathedral, but didn't go inside. We ate at a restaurant on the corner of King Street and Avenida Menéndez. A man in the lobby played Love Shack on his guitar as we climbed the stairs to eat upstairs. I deliberated between jambalaya and the lobster and shrimp tacos, but decided on shrimp and grits. On our way back through town I bought a watermelon and hibiscus popsicle.
 

Monument on the grounds of the Cathedral Basilica of St. Augustine.

We also stopped at the Huguenot Cemetery. It's interesting how each historical landmark helps fit together another piece of the puzzle. Following the second Spanish period mentioned above, Florida was ceded to the United States under the Adams-Onís Treaty of 1819, ratified in 1821. Now that the controlling culture had shifted once again from Catholic to Protestant, there was a new need for a Protestant cemetery. The nearby Tolomato Cemetery was barred to all non-Catholic residents.
 
The cemetery operated between 1821 and 1884. Despite the name, there are no known Huguenots buried in the cemetery. The burial ground came just in time for an epidemic of yellow fever.
 
I had about ten minutes to peruse the Huguenot Cemetery and found it very interesting with many old grave markers. Some of the burials were marked with rectangular cuboid stone markers the length of the grave. I found one from 1821 and two from 1823. In total, the graveyard is fairly small. I'm sure many of the burials are not marked.
 

Huguenot Cemetery of St. Augustine, founded in 1821.

Grave of Charles W. Bulow, a plantation owner from St. Augustine. Died in 1823 and buried in the Huguenot Cemetery.

We began our second day in St. Augustine on Butler Beach. Everyone in our family agreed that this was the funnest day of our vacation. As luck would have it we were in Florida for the final launch of the Delta IV Medium rocket. The only problem was that we were 94 miles away from the Kennedy Space Center. We woke up early enough to be on the beach at 8:45. Jordan watched the live stream on his phone and we all looked toward the south. Billowing clouds hung low in the horizon, but beyond that the skies were clear. We had heard you could see the rocket from this distance, but no one in our group had actually done it. The countdown came, the rocket lifted, and within seconds we could see an arching plume in the southern sky. A couple minutes later came a sonic boom.
 

Watching the launch of the Delta IV medium rocket from Butler Beach.

Now, it was time to get surfing. Dirk and Wendy remind me of the stereotypical beach bums—but in a good way! If they could, I think they would spend 365 days of the year at the beach. That's probably why they moved to St. Augustine. Dirk is the type that wears Bermuda shorts and a light Hawaiian shirt, but most often, no shirt at all. I believe they attend a Christian church for surfers.
 

Coming from the desert, no one in our family had ever surfed. Dirk taught us to lay belly-down on the board, paddle when the swell came in, and then at just the right moment stand up and ride the wave. It was much more difficult than it appeared. I don't know how many times I wiped out and got washing machined below the waves. I ended the session with bruised muscles, sand rashes on my skin and salt water up my nose. Jordan and Kaitlyn did relatively well.
 
In the end I used the surf board as a boogie board and just rode the waves while lying on my belly. It was enjoyable and I received far fewer bruises.
 

A few miles south of Butler Beach is Fort Matanzas National Monument. We pulled into the parking lot just in time to catch the ferry to Rattlesnake Island. Unlike the impressive Castle of San Marcos which is within the city limits of St. Augustine, the outpost of Fort Matanzas is a lesser-known fortress from the Spanish occupation.
 
The Spanish had good reason to fear an attack because they suffered many throughout the years including one in 1740 by the Governor of the British colony of Georgia, James Oglethorpe, who besieged the city for thirty-nine days. The major weakness for St. Augustine was the Matanzas inlet because it was out of range for the cannons at San Marcos Castle. For this reason it was decided to build a fort near the inlet of the river.
 
The building began in 1740 with the help of slaves, convicts and additional troops from Cuba. The fort is 50 feet on each side with a 30-foot tower. Although the fort fell into decay after the British acquired St. Augustine, it has since been restored and includes one of the original canons. The only way to get there is via a ferry run by the park service. Visitors are allowed to peruse the soldier's quarters, as well as enjoy the view from the observation deck.
 

Fort Matanzas.

From the observation deck at Fort Matanzas.

On the ferry to Rattlesnake Island.

Our trip to St. Augustine would not have been what it was without the hospitality of our friends. After visiting the fort we spent a couple hours at the house of Dirk and Wendy in Butler Beach. From what I understand they bought the house for a good price after the entire neighborhood had been devastated by a hurricane. They fixed it up and decorated it with surf boards and other memorabilia to always remind one that they are next to the ocean.
 
In their back yard is a canal that winds through the neighborhood and eventually connects with the Matanzas River. They have a boat that they sometimes use, but on this day we paddled a canoe. We lowered the vessel into the water and took turns stroking oars to explore the waterway through the area. [As an interesting side-note, Dirk and Wendy have recently posted pictures on Facebook of dolphins swimming through their canal, right in their backyard!]
 

Dirk and Wendy's backyard!

As dusk approached, we felt an itch to return to the beach one last time. We first stopped at the Sunset Grille to eat dinner, then we drove to a another beach. We didn't have a lot of time, but I could have stayed there for hours. The sky was now filled with pink and orange hues and the sun was about to disappear over the trees. The waves rolled in rhythmical motion, leaving a white foam as it returned to the sea.
 
The beach where we walked had a short, but photogenic pier. We walked beneath the deck boards and let the warm water run up and over our sandals while we admired the evening and took a few pictures.
 

St. Johns County Ocean Pier.

Like I stated, our time at the beach was far too short. We returned to the home of our friends and said our goodbyes. Living across the country we didn't know when we'd see them again. For Savanah and Gavin it was particularly hard and they shed many tears.
 
But there was one more item of business before we left. There is one item that uniquely belongs to St. Augustine. In fact, you could easily say that St. Augustine is the “capital of the world” in regard to this item. No one is exactly sure of it's origins, but some speculate it was brought by indentured servants from Minorca. Wendy had a plant in her home where she was lovingly growing this item. Then she graciously picked and gave me . . . a datil pepper. ♠

12 Family Adventures in Florida

Welcome to our family!
 
We just got back from the best vacation we have ever been on as an entire family. It is also the furthest we have traveled as a tribe. We packed our bags and flew 2,800 miles to sunny Florida, or so we hoped. August is hurricane season and a spinning storm on the radar could have ruined our trip. But it didn't.
 
It was the first time that three of my kids had flown on an airplane. It was fun to watch them as the jet fired its engine and the g-force glued them to their seats, and as they intently watched through the window the tiny objects on the ground as we flew overhead.
 
There was never a dull moment. For one week we traveled from the Gulf Coast to the Atlantic and had a new experience everyday. We felt true humidity, drove on toll roads, watched for alligators, played croquette in my brother-in-law's back yard, waited in a miserable traffic jam in Orlando and spotted several armadillo road-kills.
 
We learned that Florida is a beautiful state. Rows and rows of tall forest grow along the roads. Swamps and lakes are everywhere. Beaches here have the finest white sand I have ever seen, and there are small, quick lizards everywhere.
 
What follows is a list of our adventures:
 

1. Watching a rocket launch—from 94 miles away! As luck would have it, we were in Florida for the final launch of the Delta IV Medium rocket. The only problem was that we were also at Butler Beach, which is a considerable distance from the Kennedy Space Center. We woke up early enough to be on the beach at 8:45. Jordan watched the live stream on his phone and we all looked toward the south. Billowing clouds hung low in the horizon, but beyond that the skies were clear. We had heard you could see the rocket from this distance, but no one in our group had actually done it. The countdown came, the rocket lifted, and within seconds we could see an arching plume in the southern sky. A couple minutes later came the sonic boom.
 

2. Learning to surf. After watching the rocket launch, it was our turn to learn how to surf. Living in a desert, it is no surprise that no one in our family has ever surfed. Luckily we have friends who live in St. Augustine that were anxious to give us lessons. It didn't look pretty. There were a lot of scrapes and bruises, and very little standing up on the surf board. But our family consensus was that learning to surf was the highlight of our trip. Thanks to Dirk and Wendy for giving us such an experience.
 

3. Eating Key-lime pie. We were told that we had to try the key-lime pie. On our way home from the beach we found a small store advertizing homemade key-lime pie and orange juice ice cream. We had to stop! We were happy to find it because they were closing for the season the next day. We bought one pie and a quart of ice cream and took them back to our Airbnb where they waited in our refrigerator until about midnight when we pulled out the pie and sliced it up. I will admit, I wasn't disappointed.
 

4. Pictures on the beach. Jenelle has always dreamed of having family pictures taken on the beach. Everything came together for the perfect evening! The water was crystal-clear and the storm clouds suppressed their rain. The sunset radiated majestically. The girls were beautiful. On our way there we forgot Brittany's picture, but luckily we remembered in time to turn around and get it. The setting for our perfect evening was Indian Rocks Beach, a lesser known beach compared to its cousin in the north.
 

5. Dining at Waffle House.  Maybe I've lived a sheltered life, but I've never eaten at Waffle House. The closest one to our home is over 400 miles away in Phoenix, Arizona. When I saw one in Cocoa Beach, I knew we had to try it. I fell in love before I even took a bite. Everything was pretty darn cheap. Then I fell in love even more when I saw the portions and tasted the food. In this place there is nothing wrong with ordering a hamburger with a waffle. And I will say that my waffle was the best I've ever had.
 

6. Riding the carousel. Next to the library in St. Augustine is a carousel. The cost to ride is $1 per person. Certainly not what we expected coming to one of America's most historic cities, but well worth our time.
 

7. Wandering through a very old city.  St. Augustine is the longest continually inhabited city of European origin in the United States. We spent the evening strolling around the old quarter and getting a brief feel of the atmosphere. I will admit that it is a bit on the touristy side, with most things aimed to get your money (and a lot of it). It has a Disneyland feel, but with a sprinkling of historical landmarks. It was here that Savanah was happy to meet up with her friend, Gavin, who's mother drove him eight hours from North Carolina to meet us!
 

8. A taste of Havana.  One of my goals was to eat at a Cuban restaurant in Florida. We found Pepo's Cuban Cafe in St. Petersburg and it fulfilled all our expectations, including a low cost. I was worried we would have to reserve in advance to get a table, but when we arrived we were the only ones there. I ordered their original pork dish, with Spanish beans and black rice on the side. It came with toasted Cuban bread and butter. The girls behind the counter must have come straight from Cuba because we could barely understand them. The decor of the restaurant was great, with several large paintings of Havana on the wall. This was the first true Cuban meal for any of us.
 

9. Evening at the ballpark.  I am trying to visit all the Major League Baseball stadiums I can before I die. I am now up to three. Since we were in the area, we had to catch a Tampa Bay Rays game. Kaitlyn and I both love baseball, but I hoped the rest of the family would too. Our seats were low enough we could watch the pitchers in the bullpen close-up. Even though there were a meager 10,000 spectators, there was still a lot of hooting, hollering, cowbells and an attempt at the wave. Kaitlyn brought her mitt, hoping to catch a foul ball (which is a sure sign that nothing will come our way).
 

10. Dancing at Steak 'n Shake.  Okay, maybe we weren't dancing, but sometimes we felt like it! Probably our favorite meal in Florida was at a Steak 'n Shake in Merritt Island. It was casual with good tasting food in a fun environment. This is another one of those restaurants we don't have in Utah, or many other places in the West.
 

11. Day at Cocoa Beach.  I wish we hadn't left Cocoa Beach. We had so little time there. I knew it would be our last stop at the ocean and I wished to relish every moment. A storm was brewing off the Atlantic and the waves seemed to come stronger and more frequent than usual. When a wave would come I would dive in, head first, then hold my breath and float in the water for thirty seconds while a couple more rollers came in and tossed me around. That was my ritual of the day.

It was in Cocoa Beach that we visited Ron Jon's Surf Shop and learned what we needed to buy to become true surf bums. Later that day Jordan and I took a walk up the main drag, then looped around and walked back to our hotel via the beach. By now more people were on the beach and the sun was high on the horizon. We cherished every minute we had, knowing that the next time that these two desert-dwellers would return to the beach would be far too distant in the future.
 

12. NASA. Two of our kids, Jordan and Jenna, have a passion for science and anything that has to do with space exploration. For this reason I knew we had to visit the Kennedy Space Center. Our visit lasted eight hours and was well worth the price of admission. We learned a ton and got a close-up look at many of the sites and artifacts that surround the history of NASA. For me, personally, the most touching experience was learning about the astronauts that died in various missions since the 1960's. I can remember both the Challenger and Columbia disasters, and to be able to learn of the people inside those shuttles was a very humbling experience. The two major feelings I left with were that of awe and sadness. Awe for the major accomplishments of space travel and sadness for those who lost their life in this pursuit. ♠