Leaving Weeki Wachee, Joe and I drove on a four-lane divided highway that cuts through or comes very close to some of Central Florida’s smaller towns. Our goal was to reach an entrance to Florida’s Turnpike, near Orlando, so we could head southeast and then eventually get onto I-95 southbound.

As we reached the far western fringe of the Orlando area, we saw a sign for Ocoee. I had become obsessed with the town ever since seeing a video a few months earlier (more on that as the story unfolds). We decided to make a detour – which is something I’m going to do right now. Although this blog is devoted to gardening and flower photos, this post is a detour to 1920…

In the early 20^th century, Florida’s citrus industry was booming. The combination of advertising, car travel, and the growth of the railroad, attracted tourists and new residents to the state, and made it easier for growers to get their crops to market along the eastern seaboard.

Ocoee was one of those successful rural communities. In addition to white landowners and farmers, black residents also thrived – and this was no small fete in the Deep South at the time. As word of economic opportunities in Florida spread to nearby southern states, new black residents as well as black locals were able to purchase land and enter the citrus trade, providing a strong foundation for themselves, their families, and the community as a whole.

Despite this economic success, Jim Crow was the law of land – and 1920 was a Presidential election year. On the Republican ticket was Warren G. Harding and Calvin Coolidge. The Democrats, meanwhile, were running James M. Cox and Franklin D. Roosevelt. It was the first election after the conclusion of World War I, the first international conflict in which black men fought overseas for the American cause. In addition, it was the first election after the ratification of the 19^th Amendment, which expanded the right to vote to women.

In the months leading up to the election, two forces were at play. Southern states, including Florida, continued to pass legislation that made it next to impossible for blacks to be voted or for their votes to even count. On the other hand, there was a strong push to register black voters.

In the Orlando area, the voter registration effort was spearheaded by John Cheney, a white judge. As an attorney, Cheney, a registered Republican, had represented black clients in segregation cases and stood firmly against white supremacy efforts pushed by Democrats. Helping Judge Cheney to register blacks to vote were two black men from Ocoee, Mose Norman and Julius “July” Perry, who was one of the most successful black residents in the town. He had even offered to pay the poll taxes of other blacks so they could register to vote.

Like a growing hurricane simmering in the heated waters of the Gulf of Mexico, tempers were beginning to boil. On November 1, 1920, the KKK marched through Ocoee in an effort to intimidate black voters from heading to the polls the following day. Late into the night, there were warnings that “not a single Negro will be permitted to vote.” If they dared, they would face “dire consequences.”

As Election Day began, white “enforcers” placed themselves near polling places and throughout town. Poll workers were given instructions to tell black voters that their names could not be found on the voter registration rolls – and the only way this could be rectified would be for black voters to get notarized documentation from R.C. Bigelow, who just happened to be away on a fishing trip.

Undeterred, some black residents showed up at the polls to vote. Among them was Mose Norman. None were allowed to enter the polls to cast their vote. Mr. Norman rode to Orlando to inform Judge Cheney of what was happening in Ocoee. The judge told Mr. Norman to return to Ocoee and to gather the names of any black citizens who were turned away, as well as the names of the poll workers who prevented them from voting.

Mr. Norman attempted to do just that, but after returning to the polling place, he was assaulted and chased through Ocoee. He ran to the home of his friend, Julius Perry, and told him he was getting out of town.

It’s at this point, in the fog of chaos and violence and lost history, that details have become jumbled and hazy.

Believing that Mr. Norman was with Mr. Perry, the white mob – many of whom had been deputized by the local sheriff, arrived at the Perry homestead. Gunfire erupted. Two white men in the mob were killed, although it remains unclear who fired the bullets that took their lives. Mr. Perry was beaten, arrested, brought to Orlando and thrown in jail, dragged from his jail cell, and lynched very close to Judge Cheney’s home.

In Ocoee, churches and businesses in the black community were burned. Anywhere from 30 to 80 African-American residents were killed and are believed to be buried in a mass grave, now known as Hallowed Ground.

Mr. Norman fled to Stuckey, FL, and then to Harlem, NY, while Mr. Perry’s family escaped to Tampa, FL. Any remaining black residents also left Ocoee. For decades – decades – Ocoee was known as a white town and any memory of the Election Day massacre there was relegated to spoken memories, passed from one generation to another, or simply paved over as the town grew.

In 2020, one hundred years after the massacre, Ocoee began the slow and painful task of correcting the past – or, at least, acknowledging it and coming to terms with the events. Historic markers have now been placed and the Ocoee Massacre is now part of Florida’s statewide curriculum. (Side note: Governor Ron DeSantis signed the law that made Ocoee required learning in 2020. By 2023, he and his education department “modified” the state’s African-American history standards as part of his anti-WOKE agenda that also eradicated other diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. When teaching about race massacres, like Ocoee, educators must now teach acts of violence “against and by African-Americans.” This move was met with protests, because in the Ocoee case, blacks were simply trying to practice their Constitutional right to vote.)

The question I have, as I’m sure some of you have, is why would I address so much gardening blog space to what is clearly a non-gardening topic. A word of warning: my answer may be a bit long winded. No surprise there.

I first heard of Ocoee a few months ago – and it was all by accident. I had stumbled upon a “60 Minutes” report on YouTube about African-American cemeteries in Florida that had been paved over and built upon. It was shocking and disturbing, to say the least. Following this video was a suggested MSNBC piece on Ocoee and its forgotten massacre. The violence in Ocoee had occurred the year before another forgotten massacre, this one in Tulsa, OK. The Black Wall Street Massacre, the name given to the one in Tulsa, had received a lot of attention in recent years — but not Ocoee.

Naturally, I had so many questions. For starters, how could a massacre be forgotten or overlooked? The answer to that one was abundantly clear, especially when considering the race of the victims and who was writing history at the time. The scope of the violence was overlooked, skewed, and underreported by news outlets of the day.

Compounding my reaction was the current situation in America. Certainly since the 2020 election and as legislative efforts to restrict voting rights have played out in states across the country, I have grown increasingly worried about Election Day violence – in the same way I worry about being in a store when a disgruntled employee is armed and having a bad day. With Ocoee, I learned that January 6 wasn’t our first time witnessing election violence. All of it – from Ocoee to January 6 – sickens me.

It also doesn’t help that I live in Florida, where our governor (and failed Presidential candidate) has banked his political career on culture wars, targeting the LGBTQ community, African-Americans, and women. He has made it his mission to promote “woke” as a filthy slur.

The funny thing is, I never realized I was woke. I was always just me – open-minded, empathetic, eager to speak up for injustice, and advocating for those who couldn’t do so for themselves. That’s a big reason why I spent a large chunk of my life as a social worker – to help others struggling in life and to encourage them to do the same as they move about in the world. If this means I’m woke, then I’m happy to be woke – and I’m constantly astonished that at 60 I’m still learning and having my eyes and mind opened even more. I appreciate each level of “wokeness” I achieve.

Finally, we are – as you may have heard – in a Presidential election year, one that is unlike any this nation has ever had. I know we can all become a little jaded when it comes to voting… my vote doesn’t matter, I don’t have time, I’d rather stay home than vote for either candidate, I’m not even registered. I’ve heard it all, especially when I canvassed my community prior to the 2020 election.

I’ve said some of those same excuses, but I also know deep within my soul that our right to vote is sacred. It’s powerful. It’s why so many people – including those in Ocoee in 1920 – died. So, I don’t think it’s something we can shrug off with an excuse, especially when so many states have early voting and vote-by-mail. (Personally, I think Election Day should be a national holiday so everyone has time to vote.)

I guess my reason for this long non-gardening post is because it’s that important. If you’re not registered to vote, please, register. If you’re already registered, make a plan. Will you vote early or by mail or in person? If voting by mail, have you registered your address with your local election supervisor? Will you be able to volunteer to drive neighbors or relatives or even strangers who can’t get to a polling place? Will you exercise your right to vote?

I know we’re far from being a perfect country – but I also know, thanks in large part to this blog, that we are far better and more capable than we’ve been in our recent past.

Thank you for letting me ramble on. Now, I have some ginger plants that need to be dug up, divided, and replanted – and I have no idea what I’m doing. You’ll read all about this project in the next post.

Peace.

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Additional Resources:

The Truth Laid Bare

The Ocoee Massacre

Orange County Regional History Center