Tribes in Oklahoma are celebrating as a new law takes effect impacting tribal land…more
Tribes in Oklahoma are celebrating as a new law takes effect impacting tribal land…more
Jerry Morris, board member of The Seminole Wars Foundation has published a book for children about the Seminole War that was illustrated with the help of local students. Wanting for a long time to tell the story of the war to children, Jerry came across the fact of how Seminole dogs were left behind as their masters were removed from Florida.
Efa the Seminole word for dog,is the story of one of the Seminole dogs who lived in the Seminole camp in and around Fort Brooke.
Available from the Seminole Wars website.
Clifton Fifer Jr. said some of the first Black families that came to Kerrville still have descendants here, long after arriving as “property” and slaves.
Those families include the Dimery family – Fifer called them “the first of the first” – Miller, Blanks (Theodore and Isaiah), Hamilton, Bridges, Benson, Fifer, Coleman, Hurst, Hardy, Edmonds, Askey, Thornton, Campbell, Ware and Butler families.
“I’m related by marriage to the Blanks, and the Wares and Thorntons.”
Asked about the story repeated sometimes that the Blanks family got that name by refusing to take their former slave-owner’s surname, Fifer said he’s heard that, too, but couldn’t verify its accuracy.
“Traditionally a freed slave took the owner’s names or chose another if their master was unkind,” Fifer said.
“In about 1984, my dad, Clifton Fifer Sr. started his own sanitation business after working for the city’s sanitation service. He started his own service in the county and picked up at River Hills Mall and in Kerrville South and Ingram and other places,” Clifton Jr. said.
“He also had a junk business and would collect radiators and batteries and other things, for copper. He’d collect it for about six months and stack it next to the house. Then he sold the loads twice a year. It helped pay the bills.”
He said his grandfather worked at the YO Ranch, and his Uncle Lester Fifer also was a cook there.
“Lester wrote a cookbook when he worked there, and I have a copy. But all the recipes were for 100 people or more. In the family he was known for his cinnamon rolls. They melted even before they got in your mouth,” he said.
Fifer also spoke of the portion of the Black community known as “Black Seminole Indians,” descendants of runaway slaves in the south who first lived in Florida among the Seminoles. When that tribe was forced by the U.S. government to march to Oklahoma reservations, some moved to Mexico or worked as scouts and trackers for the U.S. military, fighting other Native American tribes.
“They rode just as hard and subsisted on low rations; and were the best scouts and trackers,” Fifer said.
Their connection to Kerr County came through the “colored troops” after the Civil War, or more famously the Buffalo Soldier regiment. These young men produced four Medal of Honor winners whose descendants are known here, Lillian Warren, Sylvia Lewis and Charlie Payne.
The medal winners were Pvt. Adam Paine; Pvts. Pompey Factor, Isaac Payne and John Ward.
Clifton Jr., who is 65 now, experienced in his long residency in Kerrville some of the effects of segregation.
“I remember going to Fredericksburg to the drive-in movie theater. We couldn’t go to the drive-in in Kerrville; but in Fredericksburg, it wasn’t segregated,” he said.
He said Kerrville had developed to the north from the Guadalupe River about to the Home Depot location. “There was a baseball stadium for Little League and a ‘pony league.’ There was no interstate and if you wanted to go to San Antonio I think you took Highway 87 to 27. Junction was north on 27.
“I think Kerrville is about to lose its ‘country feel’ but I reckon that’s progress,” Fifer said.
He said most entertainment was segregated, and in the Black community they owned their own “juke joints” including the Famous Door and Pleasure Garden.
Fifer said the new owners hope to reopen the Famous Door sometime next summer.
Kerrville North was a colorful, lively community with six juke joints in a two-country-block area, he said. They each served food, drinks and all had music, either live or from a jukebox.
The names and locations, in alphabetical order, were: The Cabin owned by Mr. and Mrs. C. W. McCray (Mrs. Carrie) at the end of Barnett Street; the Dream at the corner of Upper Street and Wallace Street owned by several different people at different times; Mrs. Ella Phelps owned and run by Mrs. Ella Phelps (her specialty was soul food) on West Davis Street; the Famous Door on West Barnett Street, run by Mr. Ed Bratcher, known throughout Kerrville for his steaks and fried chicken; and Pennick’s Green Door owned by Mr. John L. and Mrs. Beulah Pennick. First established as a music venue and meeting place for teenagers; they were known for their hamburgers, enchiladas, fries and chitlins.
“Probably the most famous of the juke joints was the Pleasure Garden run by Hilly Frazier on Webster Street. The infamous slab is still there today. ‘Uncle Hilly’ served the best barbecue in the county. Folks came from all around just to partake of his ribs, brisket, chicken and sausage. The people raved over his sauce.”
The Pleasure Garden was nothing like the name sounds, Fifer said. There was a small building housing the BBQ pit on a 9×15 slab, an old wooden building about 9×15 feet, and a huge concrete slab 54×39 feet.
During the time of segregation, he said, there were no recreation places for Black kids in Kerrville outside their community, as it was in most small Texas towns. So the people, businesses, schools and churches in the community provided entertainment for the kids.
“One of the places I remember was the Pleasure Garden. At 2 o’clock on Wednesdays, Uncle Hilly would allow kids to come in and skate on that huge slab for about an hour.
“What about the rhythm and blues scene at Pleasure Garden? Kerrville was the largest rural town in the region, and it was known for its juke joints and local bands. Even though the juke joints’ heydays were during segregation, that never stopped the juke joints from being integrated,” Fifer said. “The music, the culture, the good times seemed to draw all people together.”
Professor B.T. Wilson was not only the principal of Doyle High School, he was a musician, entertainer and songwriter along with other men here.
The following timeline of events in the life of Kerrville’s Black community is drawn from local history books including “Kerr County, Texas 1856-1976” by Clara Watkins, and the “Kerr County Album” by the Kerr County Historical Commission, with added information from Kerrville residents:
• 1852 – Mrs. Thomas Denton arrives in what would become Kerr County with her family and four slaves.
• 1854 – Dr. J. C. Ridley moved to the area, bringing slaves the Edmond family, and also owned Jack Hardy (1858-1907) who was captured by Indians in the winter of 1873.
• 1856 – Kerr County was formally established.
• 1856-59 – Dr. Charles de Ganahl moved to eastern Kerr County with his family and slaves, counting 21 of them by 1861. They included Theodore Blanks and his son Isaiah who helped found “The Settlement” in “Kerrsville.” Isaiah Blanks was employed by Capt. Charles Schreiner after 1865.
• 1867 – Negro resident Mike Hines appointed as a Kerr County commissioner by military authorities after the Civil War.
• 1887 – San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railroad began rail service once a day to and from San Antonio.
• 1893 – Willie Fifer worked for Capt. Schreiner and for Mrs. A.C. Schreiner.
• 1897 – John Fifer helped establish Barnett Chapel United Methodist Church with four families, the Buckners, Robinsons, Butlers and Blanks.
• About 1900 – several Black families moved to Kerr County from Bandera County due to a rabies scare in “panthers” or cougars in the area.
• September 1902 – Mount Olive Baptist Church was organized.
• 1910 – population of Kerrville listed at about 1,850 by Census.
• Born April 1924 – Vesta Fifer attended Doyle School when it opened.
• Summer 1933 – Ida V. Nealy Mosby arrived to work as private practical nurse at Dr. Samuel Thompson’s tuberculosis sanitorium during the summers. She moved here fulltime in 1936.
• About 1935 – First community school grades one through seven offered for Black residents, called “Cabbage Hill,” on block where Buzzie’s BBQ is now.
• 1940-42 – Mrs. A. W. Doyle donated land for Black school and it was named for her.
• August 1940 – B. T. and Itasco Wilson arrive to interview as teachers for Doyle School. They were hired in 1941.
• 1941 – Ida Mosby became a nurse at Secor Hospital (Kerrville General Hospital), its first Black nurse; then back to the now-State Hospital.
• 1948 – Clifton Fifer Sr. played baseball with an all-white minor league team for one season; and coached the Black Kerrville All-Stars.
• 1949 – Ida Mosby employed on staff of the new Sid Peterson Memorial Hospital.
• 1949-50 – Doyle School rebuilt after a fire in the building, according to longtime residents.
• September 1966 – Kerrville ISD fully integrated; Doyle School closed, and most teachers reassigned to other schools.
• 1973 – B. T. “Prof” Wilson retired from Tivy High School, KISD, after 33 years. He died in 1998.
• 1975 – Itasco Wilson retired from teaching in middle school after 34 years in KISD.
John Jacob Housman’s character was complex and colorful. He was an energetic entrepreneur, a shrewd businessman, a daring adventurer, a visionary developer, and it was all wrapped around the soul of a pirate. And in 1830, he found the perfect place to use these traits to his best advantage—Indian Key, a remote, tropical island in the Florida Keys, close to shipping lanes but well away from too much scrutiny by authorities.
“He was clearly a man with vision who was unafraid of going against the status quo,” said Brad Bertelli, an author and historian who is curator of the Florida Keys History and Discovery Center in Islamorada, Florida.
Still, Housman was not a man to let laws, ethics or common decency stand between him and a dollar. “I do think his moral compass was broken,” Bertelli said.
A detailed scale model of Indian Key when it was the seat of Housman’s small empire is on permanent display at the Center. The model, funded by a donation of $75,000 from Islamorada philanthropists Ken and Dee Meeks and built by JKN Model Works of Browns Mills, New Jersey, is based on period drawings and maps and some educated conjecture. The result is a captivating glimpse of how the island likely looked when it was attacked by Seminole Indians in 1840.
Bertelli thinks the story of Indian Key—part of the Florida Keys, about 85 miles southwest of Miami—“might be the best kept secret in the whole island chain.”
Prehistoric Native Americans probably were the island’s first occupants. In 1970, state archaeologists found a midden, or trash dump, where ancient Indians disposed of their refuse.
European ships started anchoring in the island’s natural harbor as early as the mid-18th century. Settlers were living on the island by the early 19th century.
Jacob Housman was only 23 years old in 1822, but he already was captain of a 56-foot schooner owned by his father Abraham Housman, a shipper who lived on Staten Island, New York. The younger Housman apparently became bored working the waters around Staten and Long islands, and decided to take his ship to the Caribbean.
He didn’t bother telling his father about his plans.
Like many mariners before him, however, he ran afoul of the treacherous coral reefs off the Keys and had to put in at Key West for repairs to his damaged ship. While he waited, he watched salvagers—known as “wreckers”—from Key West removing cargoes from other ships that had piled up on the reefs. The wreckers received a generous portion of the cargo for their fee. Housman realized the same reefs that had snagged his ship could provide a lucrative livelihood.
He changed his mind about going to the Caribbean, and stayed in Key West to learn the wrecking trade. But Housman’s business practices didn’t endear him to local residents, and after a few years, he wanted his own base of operations. Indian Key seemed a likely place for an ambitious, energetic businessman to set up shop. There was a small settlement on the island, and it was far enough away from Key West that Housman wouldn’t be competing with that city’s wreckers.
Housman bought the 11-acre island and started developing it, and by 1840 Indian Key had become Housman’s tropical paradise.
Eventually he’d sunk about $140,000—roughly $4 million in today’s dollars—into Indian Key. About 150 people lived in a small village on the island, and its amenities included a hotel, general store, bowling alley, restaurant, and a large warehouse where Housman stored the goods he’d plucked from shipwrecks.
He also brought his shady, amoral business practices to the island.
“After Housman purchased Indian Key’s general store,” Bertelli said, “he became the kind of owner who would be more than happy to give you store credit and then, when you couldn’t pay your end, he was also the kind of man who had no problem taking ownership of the collateral.”
Housman’s political influence increased with his prosperity, and he persuaded territorial officials to create Dade County and make Indian Key the county seat in 1836.
But the US government had been fighting the Seminole tribe of Florida for years, and in 1840 a Seminole war party attacked Indian Key, setting fire to the village and killing a dozen or so residents. Housman and his family escaped, but he sold his interests on the island soon after the attack and moved back to Key West. In 1841, he was killed in a salvaging operation off Key West.
Bertelli said building a 1/300-scale model of Indian Key “was not even on my radar” until the museum received the donation from Ken and Dee Meeks.
“It is one thing to tell someone the island was home to a pretty sophisticated community,” Bertelli said, “but it is another thing altogether to be able to show them the island with all the buildings and docks that once stood on this relatively small island.”
James Roberts, owner of JKN Model Works, said building the model was “unusual from day one” because the builders didn’t have an exact idea of what the island looked like 175 years ago.
“We worked with hearsay and sketches,” Roberts said. “We had to make it up along the way. (Bertelli) sent loads of information, and we had to do a lot of reading to understand what was going on there.”
Still, the builders created a brilliantly detailed conception of what the island probably looked like—right down to tiny oranges and lemons hanging on fruit trees and privies on the docks for sailors’ and residents’ use.
Indian Key’s population dwindled after the Seminole raid, and eventually the settlement was abandoned. Today, the island is Indian Key Historic State Park and is accessible only by boat.
Listen to IPPY Award-winning author Willie Drye talk about his latest book, For Sale—American Paradise: How Our Nation Was Sold An Impossible Dream In Florida, on NPR affiliates WUNC, Chapel Hill and WLRN, Miami. Visit his blog, Drye Goods, now in its 10th year. Follow him on Facebook.
In the years after the American Revolution, Seminole Indians built an arsenal of weapons acquired from Cuban and British traders that allowed them to defend their lands as an alternate and well-armed Underground Railroad in what was then Spanish-controlled Florida. To the horror of Deep South elites, the Seminoles shielded and supplied guns to Panhandle communities of Black Seminoles, small villages peopled by plantation runaways, intermarried tribal members and freed slaves of the tribe themselves.
“Together they resolved to keep white Americans and their slave catchers out of Seminole territory,” historian David Silverman writes in “Thundersticks: Firearms and the Violent Transformation of Native America.” “An alliance of militant Indians and black maroons supported by European resources was the materialization of a nightmare that had haunted white southerners ever since the seventeenth century.”
Written in an accessible and at times swashbuckling style, the book is in many ways a retelling of the U.S.’ Indian Wars from the 17th to the 19th centuries, with a twist. It cracks the mystery of how Colonial-era Native American tribes came to master a continent-spanning, gun-running network in smoothbore flintlock muskets, often decades in advance of European settlement . …more
John Horse was born about 1812 in Spanish Florida. His mother was of African descent and his father a Native American, Charles Cavallo, a Seminole town chief. He also had a sister named Juana or Wannah John Horse, or Gopher John as nicknamed by military following turtle ruse with Major George M. Brooke. Over a period of several weeks John sold the major’s cook the same turtle several times (soldiers savored the turtles, they called gophers). Discovering John’s fraud, Brooke opted for leniency and let John go on condition he make good on the missing turtles which he apparently did. This began a lifelong relationship between John Horse and the American military and earned his nickname, Gopher John.
Scattered throughout Egmont Key in plain sight are remains of its bustling past as the location of Fort Dade, built to protect the Tampa Bay area from invasion during the Spanish–American War in the late-1800s.
But hidden somewhere underground on the scenic island at the mouth of Tampa Bay lies evidence of its darker days as home to a U.S. military internment camp for about 300 Seminole Indians in the mid-1800s.
Seminoles who died there were buried without markers. No one knows how many there are.
So on Tuesday, the Seminole Tribe of Florida stepped up its efforts to find these ancestors.
Using ground-penetrating radar, the tribe’s archaeology team searched the northern part of the island near the iconic lighthouse and found areas they called “dense spots.”
Over the next few weeks, the archaeologists will process the data they gathered to determine whether these could be burial areas.
“We’ll be looking for two things: Does it have the proper dimensions of a grave and is it at the right depth,” said Domonique deBeaubien, who works with the tribe protecting Seminole remains.
Skeletons will not be moved. Rather, markers will be placed and the Seminoles will work with state officials to ensure the areas are not disturbed.
Egmont Key was a holding area for Seminoles who were being sent to reservations after they were forced from their villages in Florida.
Not all survived the wait. Some died of disease on Egmont Key. At least one is known to have committed suicide.
The island was later used during the Civil War by Confederacy blockade runners. Later, it hosted Fort Dade with its military batteries, ammunition storage, suburban-style homes, general store and even a bowling alley. Shells of some structures still remain.
Because of this past, “you never know what can be found there,” said Richard Sanchez, president of the Egmont Key Alliance, a nonprofit that preserves and protects the island’s natural and historical resources.
Sanchez pointed to a lightning fire that burned more than 80 acres of the island last July and in the process, cleared vegetation that had long hidden the remnants of former military buildings — three concrete walls of a radio-weather station and foundations for a hospital and morgue.
“I wouldn’t say we didn’t know they were there,” said Sanchez, who joined the Seminole Tribe in their search on Tuesday. “They’re documented. But they were forgotten.”
Also on Tuesday, the Seminole Tribe performed a metal detection survey of the middle of the island.
“We found some interesting artifacts from the time period the Seminoles would have been there,” tribal archaeologist Maureen Mahoney said. These include square construction rivets and a bullet believed to be from the Civil War era.
Without government permission to remove these artifacts, they placed them back in the ground and mapped where they are, explained Seminole archeology field technician David Scheidecker.
The Seminoles chose the lighthouse as a starting point in their search for burials because it is the locale of a small cemetery with 19 graves for an eclectic group — lighthouse tenders, U.S. armed forces, and five Seminoles. Only one of the Seminole markers has a name — Chief Tommy.
It’s possible, the archaeology team said, that the cemetery extended past where its boundaries are now set. The team plans to expand its search later.
The American soldiers did not respect the Seminoles enough to bury them in one place. Instead, bodies were scattered across the island and with no markings.
Some bodies may already have been washed away along with nearly 300 acres of the land the island has lost through erosion in the last century.
“We will continue to survey the island for Seminole presence and clues about what happened there,” said Paul Backhouse, historic preservation officer for the Seminoles. “For the tribe, this is a huge part of their history.”