Which Way to Two Egg?

If your boss tells you she’s off to a meeting in Jacksonville, no one blinks an eye. A cousin heading to Key West? Maybe a bit of envy and best wishes for a pleasant suntan. But when someone says they’re off to Two Egg, Florida, there’s bound to be a either a giggle or a look of pure confusion.

1950's era map showing the location of Two Egg northeast of Marianna. Note: This map precedes the construction of Interstate 10.

1950s era map showing the location of Two Egg northeast of Marianna. Note: This map predates the construction of Interstate 10.

The bustling metropolis of Two Egg is located a few miles northeast of Marianna in Jackson County. Although it’s little more than a wide spot on a curve of State Road 69, it was a prominent crossroads in the region as early as the 18th century. Europeans and native Creeks established trails in the area heading to Neal’s Landing and Thomas Perryman’s trading post on the east bank of the Chattahoochee River. The route between Perryman’s in the east and the natural bridge over the Chipola River in the west crossed right through what we now know as Two Egg. Although the road has been slightly reshaped and much improved over the past 200 years, it still follows roughly the same path.

Department of Transportation highway map showing the Two Egg area with the location of dwellings, churches, and a school (revised 1946).

Department of Transportation highway map showing the Two Egg area with the location of dwellings, churches, and a school (revised 1946).

How the crossroads got its peculiar name is something of a debate among local historians. It was originally called Allison, after the family that established a sawmill and general store in the area in the early 20th century. The name “Two Egg” began appearing during the 1930s, some say as a result of a cultural phenomenon brought on by the hardships of the Great Depression. With jobs and cash as scarce as hen’s teeth, local citizens had very little money to buy the goods they needed from the general store. As a result, they turned to the barter system, trading in a few vegetables or other farm products for the materials they needed to make it through the week.

John Henry Pittman and his wife at their general store in Two Egg (circa 1970).

John Henry Pittman and his wife at their general store in Two Egg (circa 1970).

According to one legend, a local man named Will Williams decided during this difficult time that since he couldn’t afford to give each of his 16 children an allowance, he would instead give them each a chicken. Whenever one of the chickens would lay eggs, the child who owned it could trade them at the store for whatever they pleased. A traveling salesman witnessed one of the children trading two eggs for some candy, according to the story, and decided to nickname the town accordingly. At least a dozen versions of the tale exist, but the majority seem to agree on the common thread of bartering with eggs. However the name came about, by 1940 it was in use on official state road department maps.

Sign explaining a two-cent charge for opening cans at Pittman's general store in Two Egg (circa 1970).

Sign explaining a two-cent charge for opening cans at Pittman’s general store in Two Egg (circa 1970).

A sign in Pittman's general store (circa 1970).

A sign in Pittman’s general store (circa 1970).

A combination of New Deal relief programs and the arrival of World War II breathed new economic life into the families living around Two Egg. Perhaps just as importantly, as more people began traveling to Florida in the postwar era, curiosity about the strangely named town led an increasing number of visitors to pass through for a quick stop at the general store. John Henry Pittman’s store was the main place to shop for a number of years, although it eventually closed, leaving the Lawrence Grocery as the sole business in town. As late as the early 2000s, the grocery remained open, selling candy, cigarettes, cold drinks out of a machine, and Two Egg souvenirs.

Street view of Lawrence's grocery in Two Egg. This was the last store open in town. Note the license plate on the car reading

Street view of Lawrence’s grocery in Two Egg. This was the last store open in town. Note the license plate on the car reading “Two Egg Florida” (1985).

The Lawrence Grocery eventually closed, and the Pittman store was condemned and destroyed in 2010. The town, if it could be called that, serves more as a bedroom community for Marianna nowadays, but signs on State Road 69 still proudly mark the location of Two Egg. When the signs aren’t being stolen, that is. Locals say the signs for Two Egg are stolen more than any other place name markers in the state. Even bolting the signs to their posts hasn’t stopped the problem; the thieves simply cut the signpost off at the bottom when they cannot remove the sign itself. In a way it’s a sort of backhanded compliment to the uniqueness of this small Florida curiosity. We at Florida Memory, however, would encourage visitors to leave the signs alone and just take a picture or two.

What unusual places have you visited in Florida? Tell us about your favorite by leaving a comment below or on Facebook!

Early Dentistry in Florida

OUCH!!! Going to the dentist doesn’t generally fall on many people’s list of favorite things to do, but like it or not it’s a crucial part of maintaining oral health. Moreover, dentists in the twenty-first century have technology available that makes oral care much, much more comfortable and safe than it was in earlier days. Today we take a broad sweeping look at the dental profession in Florida from territorial days to the modern era.

Dentist Charles N. Clark with a patient at his office at 93 Market Street in Apalachicola (February 1899).

Dentist Charles N. Clark with a patient at his office at 93 Market Street in Apalachicola (February 1899).

Probably the most profound difference between dentistry today and the profession in the early nineteenth century is that prior to about 1840 dentists were not really considered professionals or doctors. They were tradesmen, much like barbers, midwives, or blacksmiths. Their education came not from a university or dental school, but from apprenticeships with older, experienced dentists.

Perhaps the lack of formal dental school training came from there also being a lack of standardized equipment or technique for the young dentist to learn. Before dentistry became organized as a profession, each dentist made his own drugs, if indeed he used them at all. He made his own equipment, or used whatever was available. Replacement teeth came from animals or from the deceased. Antiseptics or anesthesia? With the slight exception of whiskey, forget about it.

Page from the journal of physician Dr. John M.W. Davidson of Gadsden County, giving a recipe for a treatment for "facial and dental neuralgias," essentially toothaches. Davidson began keeping the journal in 1843. Click on the image for a full transcription.

Page from the journal of physician Dr. John M.W. Davidson of Gadsden County, giving a recipe for a treatment for “facial and dental neuralgias,” essentially toothaches. Davidson began keeping the journal in 1843. Click on the image for a full transcription.

As was the case with many professions during the nineteenth century, dentists began communicating with one another, establishing best practices, and sharing their techniques with one another. The founding of the world’s first dental school in Baltimore, Maryland in 1840 was followed by more openings around the country, and dentists soon were able to distinguish themselves with degrees marking them as formally trained professionals.

Some of the first professional dentists in Florida included Dr. Andrew Brookins of Jacksonville, Dr. Edward Dinus Neve of Tampa, Dr. James Chace of Cedar Key, Dr. William H. Bracey of Gainesville, and Dr. J.M. Baggett of Dunedin.

In 1883, Dr. James Chace of Cedar Key met with other dentists from around the state and laid plans for a professional society of dentistry that would help create and maintain standards for ethical practices. The Florida State Dental Society was founded the next year with twenty-five charter members, and they immediately set to work urging the state government to pass laws regulating the practice of dentistry in Florida.

The Society was successful; in 1887 the state legislature passed an act creating a Board of Dental Examiners and making it illegal to practice dentistry without a certificate of the board’s endorsement. Practicing without a license became a misdemeanor punishable by fine, although curiously the law stipulated that teeth could still be extracted by anyone regardless of whether they had received any sort of dental training.

Dr. E.N. Atkins with a patient - Blountstown (1917).

Dr. E.N. Atkins with a patient – Blountstown (1917).

The application process for a certificate was fairly simple, even into the early twentieth century. Applicants were questioned about their attendance at dental school, whether they had practiced dentistry elsewhere, whether they had been convicted or indicted in any felony cases, whether they were addicted to “the liquor or drug habit,” and whether they had ever been prosecuted for illegally practicing dentistry. If the answers to these questions appeared to be in good order, the Board of Examiners would subject the applicant to an exam, part written and part clinical. If the applicant passed both portions, he would be issued a certificate.

An example of an application for examination by the State Board of dental Examiners. This application was made by William M. McRae of Live Oak in 1910 (Box 4, Series 394, State Archives of Florida).

An example of an application for examination by the State Board of Dental Examiners. This application was made by William M. McRae of Live Oak in 1910 (Box 4, Series 394, State Archives of Florida).

At the turn of the twentieth century, even with improvements in technique, tools, and dental education, practicing dentistry required a bit of innovation and willingness to think outside the box. Many dentists had offices in town, much like we usually see today. Transportation, however, was often problematic and inconvenient for many Florida residents living on farms and settlements far away from the larger towns, and so many dentists often took to the roads in wagons, automobiles, and even boats to reach their patients. In the following quote, Dr. Alton B. Whitman of Orlando describes his method for treating “remote” patients around the turn of the century.

“The patient sat in a high-back rocking chair which was padded with pillows and quilts and propped into position with pieces of stovewood under the rockers. The work was usually done on the porch for good light. Sometimes, for extracting [teeth], two straight chairs were placed back to back. The operator’s left foot was put on the seat of the chair back of the patient, and his knee became the headrest, which afforded very good control.”

Dr. F.H. Houghton of Palm Beach developed his own method for getting to the patients who needed him most. In 1898, when he began his practice, the population of Palm Beach was too small to support Houghton’s business, but the residents along the Halifax, Indian, and Hillsborough rivers still needed plenty of dental work. The good doctor solved the puzzle by building a boat 153 feet long and 20 feet wide, on which he constructed several rooms outfitted with all the necessary equipment for practicing modern dentistry. Houghton aptly named his floating office the “Dentos.”

Dr. Houghton's floating dental office, the

Dr. Houghton’s floating dental office, the “Dentos,” (circa 1910).

Over time, dentistry standards became more intricate and rigorous, and dentists’ offices began looking more like they do today. The early history of Florida dentistry is, however, a reminder of how dedicated  practitioners of the profession were to doing the best they could with what they had.

What was going to the dentist like when you were young? Do you remember dental practices from that time period that are no longer in use? Tell us about it by leaving a comment.

A Prickly Tale: The History of Pineapples in Florida

Cube it, slice it, shred it, juice it, grill it, cook it. Pineapples are a delicious treat or compliment to any dish. Today, many people think of Hawaii as the pineapple capital of the United States, but did you know pineapples were cultivated in Florida before Hawaii was even a U.S. territory?

Florida pines

Florida pineapples


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Welcome to Florida!

Florida was one of the first states to create highway welcome centers, which have now become almost standard across the nation. The establishment of the Dixie Highway routed travelers as far north as Michigan into the state of Florida via a little town called Yulee. Leaders of the growing Florida tourism industry saw this as an excellent opportunity to educate out-of-towners on the many sites and attractions the state had to offer.

Ribbon cutting at opening of hospitality house in Yulee, FL (1949).

Florida’s First Lady, Mrs. Fuller Warren cuts the ribbon at hospitality house opening ceremony – Yulee, Florida (November 4, 1949).

Florida’s first “hospitality house” opened in Yulee in the fall of 1949 on the Georgia-Florida line. Seven more centers followed to greet visitors arriving via US1/301 in Hilliard, US41 near Jennings, US231 near Campbellton, US90 in Pensacola, a marine center in Fernandina Beach, US27 in Havana, and US19 near Monticello.

Tourists at a Florida Welcome Station (October 1955).

Tourists at a Florida Welcome Station (October 1955).

People in front of welcome sign- Havana, Florida (1962).

Unidentified ladies and a man in front of the welcome sign – Havana, Florida (1962).

Although these original facilities have since come and gone, they created a long-standing tradition for offering complimentary orange juice, maps, attraction information, and assistance for tourists with travel inquiries. They also featured picnic and restroom facilities (and anyone who has been on a road trip understands the sanctity and relief of a well placed “restroom” sign).

Tourists receive orange juice at the Welcome Station (1977).

Tourists receive orange juice at the Welcome Station (1977).

Today there are five Official Florida Welcome Centers operated by Visit Florida. They are located on Interstate 10 in Pensacola, US231 near Campbellton, the State Capitol in Tallahassee, Interstate 75 in Live Oak, and Interstate 95 near Jacksonville. Personnel now undergo training to receive a national Information Specialist certification to better serve visitors. Otherwise, not much has changed in the way of good ole’ friendly service you can expect at any one of these stations.

The I-95 welcome station in Yulee, Florida (1977).

Interior of the I-95 welcome station in Yulee, Florida (1977).

Since the first welcome center opened in 1949, the State of Florida has estimated that 90 million visitors have been received, and more than 200 million maps have been distributed. Now that’s a lot of free orange juice!

Florida welcome sign - Tallahassee, Florida (1956).

Florida welcome sign – Tallahassee, Florida (1956).

If you’re traveling through the Sunshine State this summer, be sure to stop at an Official Florida Welcome Center. If you’re stuck at home for the moment, you can still enjoy a bit of Florida by searching for your favorite Sunshine State destinations in the Florida Photographic Collection.

 

Great Floridian Feats: The Gandy Bridge

If you’ve ever made it from St. Petersburg to Tampa in less than an hour, count yourself lucky. It wasn’t always so easy. Prior to 1924, the only way to get between those two points was to drive all the way around the north shore of Old Tampa Bay via Oldsmar. All that changed, however, with the opening of the original Gandy Bridge.

The original span of the Gandy Bridge between Tampa and St. Petersburg, completed in 1924 (photo circa 1925).

The original span of the Gandy Bridge between Tampa and St. Petersburg, completed in 1924 (photo circa 1925).

The bridge was named for the man who conceived it and managed its original construction. George S. “Dad” Gandy, who came to St. Petersburg from Philadelphia around 1902, had had a successful career in building trolley lines. He developed a reputation for visionary thinking, but when he revealed his idea to build a bridge across Old Tampa Bay, even his friends thought it absurd.

George S. "Dad" Gandy, the man who conceived and built the original Gandy Bridge across Old Tampa Bay (photo circa 1924).

George S. “Dad” Gandy, the man who conceived and built the original Gandy Bridge across Old Tampa Bay (photo circa 1924).

Gandy felt strongly that the project could and would be done, but he also knew the timing was not right in 1903. St. Petersburg and Tampa would need to have larger and more progressive populations to support such an enormous undertaking. By 1915, conditions appeared to be more favorable. Gandy hired engineers to survey the bay and shoreline, and began lobbying federal and state officials for the appropriate franchises to build a bridge. He faced competition from the Tampa, Atlantic, and Gulf Railroad, which had already submitted plans for a trestle across the bay. Had the railroad been built as planned, it would have crossed Gandy’s proposed route, making an automobile bridge impractical at that time. Local banking houses, businesses, and influential individuals sent a flurry of endorsements by mail and telegram to Washington and Tallahassee, arguing that Tampa and St. Petersburg badly needed the Gandy Bridge to support their continued growth. The push paid off; by February 1918 Gandy had the necessary legislation and permits to proceed.

One more obstacle stood in the way. The United States entered World War I in April of 1918, and major projects like Gandy’s that were not directly beneficial to the war effort were put on hold. Aside from a few small preliminary engineering studies and filling operations, the bridge remained at a standstill. After the war, financing became the main concern. Gandy wanted the bridge to remain under Floridian control, even though it would be a private, not state, project. That meant Floridians would need to put up the three million dollars needed to make the bridge a reality. With the help of professional promoter Eugene M. Elliot, Gandy and his associates managed to convince nearly four thousand investors to contribute, and by September 1922 construction had begun.

Construction of the Gandy Bridge, 1922-1924. Top Left: A large floating concrete pouring plant built especially for this project works along a section of the bridge. Top Right: Terminus of an 1100-foot dock built out into the bay to handle bridge materials. Bottom Left:  Concrete piles driven into the floor of the bay to support the bridge decking. Bottom Right: Concrete piles are aligned and braced with wood timbers. Photos were published in the official program for the Gandy Bridge dedication, November 20, 1924.

Construction of the Gandy Bridge, 1922-1924. Top Left: A large floating concrete pouring plant built especially for this project works along a section of the bridge. Top Right: Terminus of an 1100-foot dock built out into the bay to handle bridge materials. Bottom Left: Concrete piles driven into the floor of the bay to support the bridge decking. Bottom Right: Concrete piles are aligned and braced with wood timbers. Photos were published in the official program for the Gandy Bridge dedication, November 20, 1924.

The work required to build the Gandy Bridge was extensive, especially for the 1920s. Two years were spent dredging two and a half million tons of sand, casting 2,400 steel-reinforced concrete piles, and laying two and a half miles of concrete decking. This massive endeavor required the work of a small army of over 1,500 workers. In addition to more than a dozen workshop buildings, the builders set up an entire camp just for the bridge workers. Called “Ganbridge,” it featured bath houses and dormitories, along with warehouses, offices, and amenities for the residents.

When completed, the Gandy Bridge became the world’s longest toll bridge, stretching six miles from shore to shore. In addition to becoming an invaluable aid for moving traffic between Tampa and St. Petersburg, the enormity and uniqueness of the span made it a tourist attraction in itself. Numerous postcards depicting the bridge were published over the years.

The Gandy Bridge was dedicated on November 20, 1924 with an elaborate series of ceremonies and festivities. Governors from sixteen states attended the opening, having driven down from a conference in Jacksonville. With a large crowd of press representatives and bridge officials gathered, Florida Governor Cary A. Hardee untied a rope of flowers, and the party of governors drove across the bridge, marking the start of its public service.

Postcard showing the original toll booth for Gandy Bridge. The original toll for passenger vehicles was 75 cents for the vehicle and driver, plus 10 cents per additional passenger. Other tolls included 25 cents for saddle horses, 10 cents for bicycles, 25 cents for motorcycles, and 20 cents per head for loose-driven cattle or horses (photo circa 1930).

Postcard showing the original toll booth for Gandy Bridge. The original toll for passenger vehicles was 75 cents for the vehicle and driver, plus 10 cents per additional passenger. Other tolls included 25 cents for saddle horses, 10 cents for bicycles, 25 cents for motorcycles, and 20 cents per head for loose-driven cattle or horses (photo circa 1930).

The original Gandy Bridge remained the principal route between St. Petersburg and Tampa until 1956, when a second span was added to accommodate the growing number of automobiles needing to cross the bay. The original bridge remained in use until 1975, and the 1956 addition remained in operation until 1997. New parallel bridges were opened in 1975 and 1996 to replace the ones that were closed. While the original 1924 Gandy Bridge is no more, the 1956 addition was for a number of years preserved for pedestrian and bicycle traffic as the Friendship Trail Bridge. As it decayed, however, officials were forced to close the bridge indefinitely. Its fate remains uncertain.

The 1924 and 1956 Gandy Bridge spans side by side shortly after the latter opened. The original bridge is on the left (photo 1957).

The 1924 and 1956 Gandy Bridge spans side by side shortly after the latter opened. The original bridge is on the left (photo 1957).

With its many rivers, lakes, bays, and islands, Florida is home to an especially large number of magnificent bridges. Tell us about your favorite Florida bridge by leaving us a comment below or on Facebook!

 

Bone Dry: The Road to Prohibition in Florida

Most folks are aware of the United States’ “noble experiment” with prohibiting the manufacture and sale of liquor, which lasted from the passage of the Volstead Act in 1919 until it was repealed in 1933. Some Floridians may or may not, however, be aware that Florida had quite the head start on national prohibition, and even managed to elect a governor on the Prohibition Party ticket in 1916.

Policemen destroy confiscated liquor in Miami (1925).

Policemen destroy confiscated liquor in Miami (1925).

The question of whether and how to regulate or prohibit the sale of strong drink had been brewing in the individual states long before Congress dealt with the matter. In Florida, as in many states, the issue was hotly contested. Advocates of prohibition, or the “drys,” argued that liquor production and consumption was destructive to society and ought to be outlawed for the sake of health and the integrity of the family. Those who opposed prohibition, known as “wets,” countered that the government had no business interfering so deeply into the personal lives of citizens. Breweries and liquor distilleries added that to outlaw strong drink would destroy the jobs they provided to their workers.

The solution in Florida, for a time, was to provide each county with the option of whether to allow the sale or manufacture of liquor. A number of counties did become “dry” by vote of the local citizens, and they assured the rest of the state they were quite satisfied with the results. A.G. Campbell, the mayor of DeFuniak Springs, wrote in 1907 that he was sure that the crime rate in his town was very favorable to that of any wet town of the same size. W.B. Thomas, mayor of Gainesville reached much the same conclusion that year, noting that the total value of taxable property in the city was at least twice what it had been before the county went dry.

As time moved forward, prohibition became more political. The nationwide Anti-Saloon League began reporting on the progress of individual states toward prohibition, taking note of which politicians did or did not favor ending the sale and production of liquor. Carry Nation, the infamous anti-saloon activist who gained notoriety for smashing up bars with her hatchet, toured the Sunshine State in 1908 promoting a statewide prohibition law. She also endorsed Governor Napoleon Broward, who shared her views on spirituous drink and was up for reelection that year.

Carry Nation's notoriety and reputation as a force for prohibition was remembered long after she died in 1911. Pictured here are women at a Casa Loma hotel tea social in honor of Carry Nation's memory, in Coral Gables, Florida (February 20, 1925).

Carry Nation’s notoriety and reputation as a force for prohibition was remembered long after she died in 1911. Pictured here are women at a Casa Loma hotel tea social in honor of Carry Nation’s memory, in Coral Gables, Florida (February 20, 1925).

Portrait of Florida's 19th governor, Napoleon B. Broward (circa 1905).

Portrait of Florida’s 19th governor, Napoleon B. Broward (circa 1905).

In 1916, the movement for statewide prohibition received an unexpected boost. The Democratic Party in Florida had several candidates vying for the party’s nomination for governor that year. One was William V. Knott, at the time serving as the state’s comptroller and enjoying considerable political popularity. Another was Sidney J. Catts, a Baptist minister from DeFuniak Springs who had dabbled a bit in politics as well, but seemed to have little chance of being nominated. Knott chose to conduct a very limited campaign, emphasizing the press of state business in the comptroller’s office and relying on his friends to make the speeches. Catts, on the other hand, took to the roads in his Model T Ford to reach into the most remote corners of the state, denouncing Catholicism, regulation of the shellfish industry, and the “liquor interests.”

Florida's 22nd governor, Sidney J. Catts (circa 1920).

Florida’s 22nd governor, Sidney J. Catts (circa 1920).

Catts took the Democratic Party establishment by surprise when he was declared the winner of the Democratic nomination following the primary in June 1916. The margin between him and Knott was small, however, and Knott demanded a recount. The Florida Supreme Court granted the recount, and the results flipped the vote in favor of Knott by a mere twenty-one votes. Catts and a large number of his followers denounced the recount as a theft of the nomination from the people’s choice, and Catts agreed to run for governor on the Prohibition Party ticket.

A campaign poster for Sidney J. Catts (1915).

A campaign poster for Sidney J. Catts (1915).

Whatever the voters’ beliefs on prohibition, no third party had come anywhere close to defeating the Democrats in Florida since Reconstruction. Catts renewed his campaign efforts, however, and on Election Day in November 1916 he came away with the victory as governor of Florida. Sidney Catts would be the only non-Democrat to win the governorship between the end of Reconstruction in 1877 and the election of Republican Claude Kirk, Jr. in 1966.

By this time, the number of counties having voted to prohibit the sale and manufacture of liquor had increased, but statewide prohibition was still on the table. Bolstered in part by Catts’ encouragement and also by the nationwide movement toward prohibition, the issue was finally approved by the state legislature in 1917, ratified by the voters in 1918, and put into effect in 1919. The legislature also approved the 18th amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which prohibited the sale and manufacture of liquor nationwide. Although Florida would be the setting for many violations of the prohibition law during its short lifetime, the Sunshine State would mostly be, as the saying goes, dry as a bone.

John P. Brown driving an automobile decorated in support of prohibition (circa 1917).

John P. Brown driving an automobile decorated in support of prohibition (circa 1917).

The Cathedral Basilica of St. Augustine

Every Sunday, worshipers belonging to the oldest Catholic parish in the United States file into the St. Augustine Cathedral Basilica, where mass has been celebrated in some form or fashion for nearly 450 years. As timeless as this sturdy building may appear to the visitor, however, its history bears witness to many instances of warfare, disaster, and change that have shaped the city of St. Augustine.

This is an engraved, hand-colored map drawn by Baptista Boazio in 1589, depicts a raid on St. Augustine by the English navigator Sir Francis Drake. Boazio lived in London from about 1585 to 1603, illustrating accounts of English expeditions and campaigns.

This engraved, hand-colored map drawn by Baptista Boazio in 1589 depicts a raid on St. Augustine by the English navigator Sir Francis Drake. Boazio lived in London from about 1585 to 1603, illustrating accounts of English expeditions and campaigns.


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Richard Ervin and the Gradualist Approach to Desegregation

On May 12, 1955, Florida Attorney General Richard Ervin submitted an amicus curiae brief to the United States Supreme Court proposing a gradual approach to school integration. The court had just recently ruled in the case of Brown v. Board of Education in May 1954 that racially segregated schools were unconstitutional.

Headline in the Tallahassee Democrat, the day the U.S. Supreme court issued its opinion that separate schools were inherently unequal and therefore unconstitutional (17 May 1954). State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory.

Headline in the Tallahassee Democrat, the day the U.S. Supreme court issued its opinion that separate schools were inherently unequal and therefore unconstitutional (17 May 1954). State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory.

The court chose to shelve the case for a year, citing a need for further study on how best to implement the decision. Sensing an opportunity to preserve segregation, acting Florida Governor Charley Johns enlisted the expertise of Attorney General Ervin, State Superintendent of Education Thomas D. Bailey, and Florida State University sociologist Lewis Killian to compile a report outlining the “practical problems involved [with desegregation] and recommendations” for implementation.  The Florida Cabinet approved a $10, 000 budget for the study, which began in the summer of 1954.  Killian began by seeking the opinions of elected officials, journalists, educators, and police chiefs on the subject. Approximately 8,000 surveys reached a biracial sample of community leaders, with a total response rate of fifty one percent.

Atty. Gen. Richard Ervin (left), with Rep. Ben Hill Griffin of Polk County (right). Griffin was chairman of a committee devising legislation allowing parents to withdraw their children from integrated schools  (1959). State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory

Atty. Gen. Richard Ervin (left), with Rep. Ben Hill Griffin of Polk County (right). Griffin was chairman of a committee devising legislation allowing parents to withdraw their children from integrated schools (1959). State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory

The responses from African-Americans revealed several prevalent fears associated with desegregating Florida’s public schools, including “withdrawal of white children from the public schools, the maintenance of discipline in mixed classes by Negro [sic.] teachers, refusal to employ Negro teachers for mixed schools, and difficulty in obtaining white teachers” as the “outstanding potential problems found to be expected.” White responses emphasized similar concerns over such matters as maintaining discipline in mixed classrooms, questionable cooperation of white parents, and violent outbreaks.  In a telling statistic, seventy-five percent of African-American participants supported the Brown ruling and believe the majority of whites did also.  In contrast, a similar percentage of whites thought blacks largely supported segregation. Armed with Killian’s results, Attorney General Ervin made a strong case for gradualism. After a year of delay, the United States Supreme Court reconvened in spring 1955 to clarify the federal enforcement of desegregation in a session aptly nicknamed Brown II.  The court considered the research of ten states regarding school desegregation, lauding Attorney General Ervin’s brief as a particularly strong resource. On May 31, 1955, after much deliberation, the justices handed down their decision.  The court mandated that compliance with the Brown decision should occur with “a prompt and reasonable start,” carried out with “all deliberate speed.”  The vague language coupled with Ervin’s push for gradualism foreshadowed the long battle for school desegregation in post-Brown Florida.

The slow pace of social change in Florida prompted many African-Americans to take action. In the above picture, dated 1962, young men and women stand outside the Florida Theatre in Tallahassee, calling on white America to reevaluate racial segregation. Eight years after the Brown decree only a handful of school districts in Florida were desegregated. Miami-Dade was the first in 1959. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory.

The slow pace of social change in Florida prompted many African-Americans to take action. In the above picture, dated 1962, young men and women stand outside the Florida Theatre in Tallahassee, calling on white America to reevaluate racial segregation. Eight years after the Brown decree only a handful of school districts in Florida were desegregated. Miami-Dade was the first in 1959. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory.

 

 

The Aucilla River Hideaway of Florida’s "Pork Chop Gang"

It may not look like much, but the fish camp pictured below was once the place where many a decision was made about the fate of legislation passing its way through the Florida Senate. The fish camp belonged to Raeburn C. Horne, a three-time state legislator from Madison County and an ardent lobbyist in favor of the small loans industry. The camp was located at Nutall Rise on the Aucilla River in western Taylor County.

View of the Raeburn C. Horne fish camp at Nutall Rise in western Taylor County (circa 1960s).

View of the Raeburn C. Horne fish camp at Nutall Rise in western Taylor County (circa 1960s).

 

Map showing Nutall Rise and surrounding area.

Map showing Nutall Rise and surrounding area. Nutall Rise is named for William B. Nuttall (the second T has been dropped over the years), a Jefferson County planter who was one of several men to buy up a large amount of acreage near the Aucilla River in western Taylor County with the intent to establish a sugar cane plantation. This plan never came to fruition, but the name Nuttall stayed.

Raeburn C. Horne when he was serving as a state senator from Madison County (circa 1941).

Raeburn C. Horne when he was serving as a state senator from Madison County (circa 1941).

Horne was associated with the infamous bloc of state senators known as the “Pork Chop Gang.” The Pork Choppers, as they were frequently called, were mostly from rural northern counties, which had become unusually powerful in the 1950s because the legislative districts of the state had not been redrawn to account for the massive growth of urban areas in earlier years. As a result, the representatives of a small portion of the state’s population were able to dominate the lawmaking process at the Capitol.

A group portrait of the Pork Chop Gang during the 1956 special session of the Florida Senate. Click on the image to see a full list of the senators.

A group portrait of the Pork Chop Gang during the 1956 special session of the Florida Senate. Click on the image to see a full list of the senators.

With so much influence concentrated in the hands of so few legislators, the Pork Chop Gang became a prime target for lobbyists like Horne. Some of Horne’s methods were none too subtle; he was once called out, for example, for sending hand signals to the floor of the Florida House of Representatives from his seat in the gallery. More often, however, he engaged in what was called the “social lobby.” This was the practice of treating legislators to meals, parties, and other favors to create opportunities to promote a political position. While some lobbyists kept their activities centered in Tallahassee, Horne preferred to invite legislators to his comparatively quiet and private fish camp on the Aucilla, where they could fish, play poker, and discuss strategy out from under the intense gaze of the public eye.

Looking up the Aucilla River near Nutall Rise. The Horne fish camp and other houses are located on the east bank at right (circa 1950s).

Looking up the Aucilla River near Nutall Rise. The Horne fish camp and other houses are located on the east bank at right (circa 1950s).

Horne’s fish camp became famous for its gatherings of Pork Choppers just before important decisions had to be made in the Florida Legislature. The group reportedly assembled there in September 1957 ahead of a vote to determine how the public would vote on a bill to redraw the legislative districts of the state. Malcolm B. Johnson, executive editor of the Tallahassee Democrat half-seriously suggested that the people of Florida might soon be expected to pay for the legislators to have their own tax-supported hunting and fishing lodge so they would not have need to hold caucuses on property owned by lobbyists.

A political cartoon from the Tampa Tribune illustrating the reapportionment issue (1955).

A political cartoon from the Tampa Tribune illustrating the reapportionment issue (1955).

The Nutall Rise retreat of the Pork Chop Gang faded away in the 1960s, owing to several events. In 1962, the United States Supreme Court found in the case of Baker v. Carr that misrepresentation in state legislatures due to outdated district boundaries was a violation of the Fourteenth Amendment’s equal protection clause. Like it or not, the Pork Choppers would have to consent to reapportionment, or else the federal government would do it for them. Over the next decade, Florida’s legislative districts were rearranged several times, breaking the Pork Chop Gang’s power. As for Raeburn Horne, he passed away in 1962, just after the Supreme Court rendered its decision in Baker v. Carr.

A lot of water has flowed down the Aucilla past the old Horne property since those days when legislators would gather there for poker and politics. The old place might lack the political clout it once had, but locals tell us you can still catch a good-sized catfish just about anytime.

Virgil Hawkins and the Fight to Integrate the University of Florida Law School

On May 13, 1949, a forty-three year old man from Lake County named Virgil Darnell Hawkins received a letter from the University of Florida Law School rejecting his application because he was African-American.  Hawkins refused to accept the prejudiced decision without a fight, and promptly filed suit against the Florida Board of Control in 1950. His legal battle would carry on for nine years, laying the foundation for the integration of Florida’s graduate and professional schools.

Portrait of Virgil Darnell Hawkins (circa 1960s).

Portrait of Virgil Darnell Hawkins (circa 1960s).

Despite the larger civil rights victory, Hawkins emerged from the ordeal partially defeated as he never gained admission to the institution he considered “one of the finest law schools in the country.” The case of Virgil Hawkins v. Board of Control brought Florida into the national school desegregation conversation, serving as an antecedent to the Brown v. Board of Education ruling. Furthermore, Hawkins’ ordeal underscores the tenacity with which segregation advocates fought the drive for an integrated university system, some even going so far as to suggest that such a change would incite “public mischief.”

College of Law buildings at the University of Florida (circa 1950s).

College of Law buildings at the University of Florida (circa 1950s).

Before Virgil Hawkins took his stand, there was no law school for African-Americans in Florida. Rather than fund a separate institution in Florida or permit African-Americans to attend an existing school with whites, the state instituted a law in 1945 to provide scholarships for select African-American students to study at segregated law schools outside the state. When Virgil Hawkins refused to accept that alternative, the Board of Control approved plans to open a segregated law school at Florida A&M College. By 1950, the U.S. Supreme Court had ruled on two related cases, Sweatt v. Painter and McLaurin v. Oklahoma, professing the inherent inequality of segregated graduate institutions. Despite these rulings, the Florida court still refused to admit Hawkins, and would continue to refuse even after the so-called Brown II decree issued by the Supreme Court in 1955 to clarify the original Brown decision. Hawkins persisted in his fight against the state’s segregationist position, but more challenges were on the way. In 1958, the Board of Control established a new minimum score on the law school entry exam for incoming students, setting the admission threshold fifty points above Hawkins’ 1956 score. As a result, Hawkins was officially denied not because of his race, but rather because he was disqualified by the new rules regarding test scores.  Later that summer, federal district judge Dozier DeVane mandated that all qualified applicants be admitted to graduate and professional schools in Florida regardless of race.

Judge Dozier DeVane, who ruled that qualified applicants had to be admitted to law and graduate programs regardless of race, stands at right in this photo, along with Harrold G. Carswell (center) and an unknown man at left (1953).

Judge Dozier DeVane, who ruled that qualified applicants had to be admitted to law and graduate programs regardless of race, stands at right in this photo, along with Harrold G. Carswell (center) and an unknown man at left (1953).

Nine years after the initial integration suit, African-American veteran George H. Starke, not Virgil Hawkins, enrolled at the University of Florida Law School in September 1958 without incident. As for Virgil Hawkins, he eventually received his law degree in New England, and was admitted to the Florida Bar in 1977. He resigned in 1985 following complaints about his practice.

Virgil D. Hawkins speaks with supporters while on recess during his disciplinary case before the Florida Supreme Court (1983).

Virgil D. Hawkins speaks with supporters while on recess during his disciplinary case before the Florida Supreme Court (1983).

Virgil Hawkins’ case is an excellent example of how the Civil Rights Movement played out in the courtrooms of Florida as much as it did at lunch counters, public beaches, and city buses. The legal battles fought by Hawkins and others laid the groundwork for an integrated education system for all of Florida.

Florida proudly joins the rest of the United States in celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the 60th anniversary of the landmark Supreme Court decision in the case of Brown vs. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas. For more information about events commemorating the Civil Rights Movement, see our Events Calendar.