A history of Smokey Hollow, a thriving Black community displaced by development | TLH 200

Years ago, down the hill and less than a mile away from the Florida Capitol, stood a cluster of homes that was named after the haze of smoke that hung over the low-lying neighborhood.

Driving on Franklin Street, locals can now see the tribute that stands there, a set of three open, black steel “spirit houses” that represent Smokey Hollow.

Between right after the Civil War and the 1960s, the neighborhood was home to a thriving Black community, with churches, restaurants, stores and hundreds of residents.

A visitor to Tallahassee in 1893 described the deep red gullies and rows of "Negro cabins" that lined St. Augustine Road as it passed down the hill from the state capitol over the railroad and up the wooded slopes, wrote Althemese Barnes, a local leader in the preservation and recognition of African American history, in a 1998 Tallahassee Democrat column.

Writing in 1891, a local Black resident described it as "a neighborhood of a few hundred, hardworking, low income Blacks who made up a portion of the local, common labor work force. In later years, many were employed by the city, county and state governments. Most lived as tenants in tiny 'shotgun' type homes bordering on narrow unpaved streets."

In 1920 there were 270 residents, or about 10% of Tallahassee’s Black population. In 1930, 528 residents lived in the neighborhood, which was about 12% of the Black population at the time.

Robert Fisher, who grew up in the community, said the neighborhood's name derived from the smoke that was generated from the ladies making fires in the wood stoves as they prepared for the men to come in from work.

"Others credit the name to the city's incinerator and gas plant in the area, which burned coke and coal," Barnes wrote. "A combination of both no doubt added to the haze that often hovered over the area, especially at dusk."

Smokey Hollow was bordered by Myers Park, Gaines Street, Meridian Street and Pensacola Street. Then in the 1950s, residents were pushed out by the construction of Apalachee Parkway. Less than a decade later, the rest of the neighborhood was displaced when the state built the Florida Department of Transportation building.

It wasn't until the year 2000 when Smokey Hollow was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Next to the spirit houses on Pensacola Street sits a restored barbershop, which was once the only commercial building in the neighborhood.

Former Smokey Hollow residents offered input on what the barbershop looked like. Zella Johnson Gaines said she remembers walking inside Rollie Powell's barbershop with a mirror on the wall on one side and a single barber chair in front of it. She said the neighborhood was poor, but no one locked their doors.

"We knew we were poor but no one knew any better because everyone was fed," Johnson Gaines told the Tallahassee Democrat in 2013, adding some residents managed community gardens or dairy cows that served everyone. "Those were good times growing up."

One of the matriarchs of the community was Vesta Dean. Vesta and her husband Edmond Dean rented their three-bedroom home from Marvin Collins, father of Florida Gov. LeRoy Collins. Vesta worked as a maid for several prominent white families, then later for a local dairy and Florida State University.

Edmond Dean, who died in 1964, worked for a sawmill near the railroad depot — where he was responsible for sounding the daily 6 a.m. whistle that woke up Smokey Hollow residents for work.

Vesta and Edmond Dean, who had only sixth-grade educations, emphasized education for their children, longtime Democrat writer and historian Gerald Ensley wrote in a 2011 obituary of Vesta.

"They paid for all eight children to enroll at Florida A&M — though it was up to each child to earn enough money to finish college. Five earned degrees from FAMU and all eight went on to successful careers."

The tribute to the historical neighborhood cost $1 million, wrote Ensley, with most of the funds coming from Blueprint.

Eleven former residents participated in the Smokey Hollow memorial committee, including retired school principal Ernestine Rutledge-Hester, who shared a Smokey Hollow home with her cousin, Rosetta Griffin, Griffin's older sister and their grandmother, Victoria Brundage.

Their home, located along St. Augustine Street in what is now the DOT parking lot, was among the last removed in the 1960s.

They lived in a shotgun-style house with only three rooms. Their bathrooms were outhouses. They grew up with dreams of one day living in "houses with white picket fences — and we did," Rutledge-Hester told Ensley.

The most elaborate house on the fringes of the neighborhood, according to Barnes, was that of educator John Gilmore Riley on Jefferson Street. This house exists today as the Riley Museum of African American History and Culture.

Florida State University history professor Jennifer Koslow said Smokey Hollow was one of the oldest urban communities in Tallahassee. While there were homeowners, many of the residents were renters which made it vulnerable to development.

Smokey Hollow residents moved to Frenchtown and the Bond neighborhood after they were pushed out. At the time, the state wasn’t obligated to help them relocate, Koslow said.

Only two sections escaped destruction. The first is a small section west of Marvin Street and east of the railroad tracks, where Famous Amos’ grandmother lived. Some of the houses next to John G. Riley’s former residence were left standing as well.

“The story of Smokey Hollow is the story of our nation,” Koslow said. “Mid-twentieth century government’s exercise of eminent domain displaced vibrant communities of working-class people, immigrants and minorities. While the specific contours of that story in Tallahassee were unique, the outcome was not. Remembering Smokey Hollow forces us to rethink historical narratives of the uprooted.”

This article is part of TLH 200: the Gerald Ensley Bicentennial Memorial Project. Throughout our city's 200th birthday, we'll be drawing on the Tallahassee Democrat columnist and historian's research as we re-examine Tallahassee history. Read more at tallahassee.com/tlh200. Email us topic suggestions at [email protected].

This article originally appeared on Tallahassee Democrat: Smokey Hollow, a Black Tallahassee community displaced by development