Tuesday, June 9, 2026

Orlando first Black school


According to author and Jones High School graduate Leroy Argrett Jr., education for Black residents of Orlando dates to 1886 at a school called “Orlando Black.” The school, located at the southwest corner of Garland Avenue and Church Street was “not much of an organized school” but it set the precedent for formalized education for the Orlando African American Community. He lists four principals who oversaw the school from 1886 to 1894:

  • P.T. Dodson (1886-87)
  • S.A. Williams (1887-89)
  • C. Jackson (1889-91)
  • J. T. Shuften (1891-94)

In 1895, the school was relocated to the corner of Jefferson and Chatham streets and renamed the Johnson Academy.[1] According to the Jones High School Historical Society webpage, the Academy was named after Lyman Johnson, who was principal from 1895 to 1906, and supervised the move to the new location.[2]

Differing dates

There is some disagreement, however, in the date that the school opened. Mark Andrews, history columnist for the Orlando Sentinel, wrote in a 1994 article that according to William Blackman’s History of Orange County Florida, the first Black School in Orange County dates to 1877. He also notes that educator and historian Thelma Dudley asserted in her 1993 doctoral dissertation that in 1871 a school was created in Orange County for the education of Black youth.[3] But in another Andrew’s article citing Dudley’s research, he states that the “Orlando Colored School was founded in 1886.”[4]

Jim Robison clarifies that the first documented school in Orange County opened in 1877 near Sorrento at a settlement called Benton Prairie. He reveals that in 1877, all of Seminole County plus parts of Lake and Osceola Counties were part of then-Orange County. [5]

But according to a 1982 article about attempts to raise money to restore the old Callahan School, “the first Orlando Colored School was approved by the Orange County School Board” in 1882, four years before Argrett’s date of 1886.[6] A further contradiction appears in the notice about the Board of Public Instruction in the Orlando Evening Star from Dec. 1884 that notes that the “salary of assistant teacher of Orlando colored school was set at $35.”[7] It could be that the school board approved and set the salary a couple years before the school officially opened in 1886.

School board ledgers

The school board ledgers in the collection of the Orange County Regional History paints a compelling picture of the Orlando Colored School, which is abbreviated as “Orlando Cold” in the first volume. Designated School No. 35, the 1886 school year under P.T. Dodson went from October through March and averaged about 20 students a day. The following year principal S.A. Williams experiences a large increase in the number of students, rising to an average of 157 students over 7 months. As result total teacher salaries increases from $187 in 1886 to $1,400 in 1887. The first ledger goes through 1893 school year, while a second shows Lyman Johnson in charge in 1895. An 1893 entry shows that there were 6 teachers in addition to the principal teaching grades one through three. 

Masonic Hall on Garland and Church

The 1887 Sanborn fire insurance map confirms that there was a school at the time on the southwest corner of Garland Avenue and Church Street. The map also shows a Masonic Hall in the same space.[8]  E.H. Gore’s History of Orlando explains that the “first fraternal lodge in Orlando was Lodge No. 69 Free and Accepted Masons, which received its charter January 13, 1876” and their first Masonic Hall was located at Garland Avenue and Church Street. According to Gore, the lot was donated by Orlando pioneer William Patrick, and the hall was built “thereon April 1, 1882.”[9] According to the Lodge’s website, the structure was to be a 26’X40’ two-story building made of “rough lumber and unplastered interior walls.” The text on the website explains that the upper floor was used as the Masonic Lodge the lower floor was “given to Public Schools, where three grades met.”[10]

In the first volume of Orlando: A Centennial History, Eve Bacon wrote that the first floor of the Lodge was empty until it was loaned to the city for use as a schoolroom. “Three grades and three teachers were moved into the building” she writes, “all three grades occupied the same room, but were arranged in groups by grade.”[11]

According to the Lodge No. 69 website, the Masons sold the Church Street property in 1888 and moved to a new location on Pine Street.

Conclusions

Several contemporary newspaper articles reported that by 1884 “seven of Orange County’s 94 schools were dedicated to teaching black children.”[12] As mentioned before that the area of Orange County was much larger than it is today, as Lake and Osceola Counties were formed in 1887 from portions of Orange County, and Seminole was not created until 1913. Bacon states that in 1884 there were 292 students living inside the Orlando city limits and fifty-eight living outside of its boundaries.[13] Although that number seems high, Orlando experienced meteoric growth during this period due to the arrival of the railroad, going from a population of just 200 in 1880 to 2,000 in 1886. The ledgers at the History Center show that the Orlando Black/Orlando Colored School was operating in 1886. It moved in 1895 and renamed the Johnson Academy which would become Jones High School in 1921. 

Although none of the sources that connect the Masonic Hall to its use as a school mention that it was a school for Black children, there are multiple sources listing the location of Orlando Black/Orlando Colored School as Garland and Church, so one can conclude that the Masonic Hall was site of what may have been Orlando’s first school for African American children. 

A group of people posing for a photo

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Figure 1:

Photo from How Distant Seems Our Starting Place Black history exhibit at the Orange County Regional History Center

A collage of a church and a group of people

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Figure 2: Page from a brochure in the collection of the Orange County Regional History Center shows the full uncropped photograph used in the How Distant Now Seems Our Starting Place Black History exhibit.

 


A close up of a book

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Figure 3: Detail of School Board Ledger showing entries for School No. 35 (Orlando Cold) for 1886 and 1887

A close-up of a map

AI-generated content may be incorrect.

Figure 4: Sanborn Map Company, Sanborn Fire Insurance Map from Orlando, Florida, showing the location of the “School” and  “Masonic Hall” at the intersection of Garland Avenue and Church Street


A close-up of a newspaper

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Figure 5: Screen capture from the history page of the website for Orlando Lodge No. 69 Free and Accepted Masons

A person with a mustache and a suit

AI-generated content may be incorrect.

Figure 6: J.T. Shuften, the fourth principal at the Orlando Colored School, was also the publisher of The Colored American, the first Black-owned newspaper in Georgia. He is one of the first Black journalists in Florida and was the first Black attorney to practice law in Orlando.

A yellow paper with text

AI-generated content may be incorrect.

Figure 7: Notice from the Board of Public Instruction from the Orlando Evening Star published on Thursday, December 18, 1884 stating that the salary for assistant teachers at the Orlando colored school was fixed at $35.

Contemporary view of the intersection of Church and Garland



[1] Leroy Argreet, Jr., A History of the Black Community of Orlando Florida, p. 30.

[3] County’s earliest black schools were established on a shoestring, Orlando Sentinel, May 22, 1994, p. 210 

[4] Teacher researches the struggle of segregated Jones High, Orlando Sentinel, Feb. 28, 1993, p.81

[5] Educator’s legacy still thrives, Orlando Sentinel, Feb. 6, 2005, pK2

[6] Party to raise funds to restore Callahan School, Orlando Sentinel, April 28, 1982, p. 3

[7] Board of Public Instruction, Orlando Evening Star, Dec. 18, 1884, p.3

[8] http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.gmd/g3934om.g3934om_g013221887

[9] E.H. Gore, History of Orlando, p. 47

[11] Eve Bacon, Orlando A Centennial History, Vol. 1, p. 114

[12] Establishing the 1st school district was an education itself, Orlando Sentinel, p. 167

[13] Bacon, p.114

Monday, May 25, 2026

Mural Mystery Solved (Mostly)

With the help of friends, I was recently able to solve a mystery that I first stumbled across in 2009 connected to a photograph from 1937. I first came across the image while I was diving into the archives of the Joy Postle Collection to source images for an article to be published in Reflections magazine. Thanks to Denise Hall, the collection at UCF is quite extensive and includes artwork, photographs and even the artist's diary she kept during the 1930s. The photo that intrigues me so much was of a group of dignified people, gathered in front of a large painting of a Seminole Indian. On the back in pen is written:

1937

W.P.A. Art Project

Trip to U. of F. Gainesville

Joy P. Don Emory

M. Runyon in Center

Special Collections & University Archives Libraries

University of Central Florida


I recently returned to the archives while researching Joy Postle's Casa Iberia mural on the Rollins College campus and was reminded that I had never figured out the location of the image, who painted the beautiful artwork, or who the rest of the people in the photo were. So I reached out to Flo Turcotte at the Archives at UF and she enlisted the help of fellow archivist Sarah Coates.  It was she who discovered the location of the image:

"Found it! It was over the fireplace in the Bryan Lounge that was in the Florida Union, now Dauer Hall. I have no idea if this painting is still there, nor do I know what the old Bryan Lounge was turned into once the building was no longer the Florida Union.

 She also sent links showing the space with the painting: 

To find out if the painting was still hanging on campus, I turned to Pam Marlin, an Instagram contact who works at UF and has done incredible then and now photo work on campus – you can explore her site here. Here was her response to my inquiries about the paintings whereabouts: 

"I don’t believe the painting is still hanging in the building. I’ve been to Dauer Hall many times over the years, mostly for events at the Keene Faculty Center (created when Dauer Hall was renovated in the 1990s).  The room with the fireplace and painting may have been part of today's faculty center, however, this particular area has been subdivided. It is now configured into multiple rooms that house the Classics Department (with the Religion Department upstairs). 
I walked over to Dauer today and captured a photo of the SE corner of the building where I think the original fireplace and painting were (see attached).  Visible in the photo is an exterior view of the large bay window (seen in the old interior photos) and exterior chimney stacks (suggesting a fireplace).    I also walked into the Classics Department area specifically looking for the bay window and the fireplace, but the space is now divided into many rooms, some wood-paneled, with no fireplace or a view of the large bay window. My guess is that the fireplace was either covered or removed during renovation, and possibly the painting along with it.  The beautiful interior arches have been removed as well."
Courtesy Pam Marlin

Pam later went inside Dauer Hall and reported:

"I walked over to Classics again and talked briefly with Robert Wagman, former Classics department chair (2009).  His office is located along the same wall as the fireplace (between the fireplace and the bay window) and it has the original dark wood paneling.  He told me that there is a wall over the fireplace, and likely the mural as well.  He took me to the room where it was located and tapped on the hollow wall.  He mentioned that when he was chair he encouraged them to open the wall, which they did not.  I have attached a photo (it is the back wall)." 

Courtesy Pam Marlin

As disappointed as I was that the painting is no longer viewable on campus, I was thrilled when both Pam and Sarah discovered the name of the artist who painted it: Fred Madden. Madden both attended and taught at UF. He painted the mural in 1936, the year before the photograph was taken. I found an article with photos of both the mural and a photo of the artist, and that allowed me to identify him in the group photo, standing front and center, just left of Joy Postle. 


From the Miami News, Oct. 1945

Madden, apparently an accomplished muralist like Postle, taught art at Camp Roosevelt, as did Postle, so it is likely they knew each other. Sorting out the other folks in the photo is a bit of challenge. Artist Manny Runyon, mentioned in the inscription on the back, appears to be the bearded fellow near the center of the image. O. C. R. Stageberg, UF professor of art and architecture could be the be to the right of Runyon, but it is difficult to be sure. It's also possible that Eve Alsman Fuller, an important figure at Camp Roosevelt, and an acquaintance of Postle, is one of the women on the left. Other possible people in attendance include Warren Doolittle, Van H. Ferguson, and William F. Lockwood. That aspect of the mystery still remains unsolved!

Halifax Historical Society

Don W. Emery


UPDATE: While attending a reception at the Halifax Historical Museum in Daytona Beach, I noticed several striking murals on the wall signed by "Don J." and "Don W. Emery." There was a display of the work by Don W., who was the son of Don J., but none of the photos matched anyone in my UCF image. But museum docent Carol Ann Moritz knew exactly where to look in the archives, and we found an image of Don W. He is standing behind Joy Postle, to the right. Another piece of the puzzle found!

Friday, July 4, 2025

Freedom Walk 2025 – Looking for the Heart of Orlando

 


This morning, I did my usual Fourth of July freedom ride/walk. There are two reasons I chose this day for a photo safari: there’s very little traffic on a holiday, and nothing feels freer than walking around or cycling around while taking pictures.  People are sleeping-in knowing that they have an evening ahead of obnoxious fireworks and badly burned frankfurters. This year I set out once again on foot. My main objective was to check out Church Street, in particular the property that used to be my former work place, Church Street Station.

I got to downtown early. It was mostly the unhoused and a few caffeine-addicted, coffee seekers. Despite the City’s best efforts, Orlando has never solved its homeless problem and when there are not downtown workers present it’s even more obvious. 

This year I’m not feeling patriotic. The so-called Alligator Alcatraz in the Everglades shows the cruelty and inhumanity present in our country and I am repelled by it. Trump's big, beautiful bill is going to harm a bunch of his big beautiful people and send this country further and further backwards. It’s hard for me to feel rah, rah, go America! these days. So, my initial foray onto Church Street does nothing to help my feelings of doom and gloom (my voice transcription app wrote “demon glue” instead of doom and gloom.)

My memories of youthful days as a member of the good time gang –  partying with abandon in beautiful showrooms – surrounded by beautiful people – are slapped hard by the reality of the decay around me.  Not a single building in the entire Church Street Station complex is currently being utilized. The only hint of commerce is a sign for a ghost tour.





Orlando's 19th-century growth was closely tied to the arrival of the railroad in 1880. This is the third depot erected at this location; the first two were made of wood. Orlando's first tourists stepped off the train here. Today it is lost within a sea of high rise buildings and ill-placed signs. It seems like there is visual cutter everywhere...

The reason for this foray into my past is that I’ve been thinking about Church Street (constantly) since I agreed to do a talk at the History Center later in July. I’ve learned through my research that the amount of history that occurred in this one short block in downtown Orlando is astounding, and I keep finding more to confirm that. But I am appalled by the little regard given to this historic street these days. When Bob Snow came to town in the early ‘70s, he was able to see beyond the urban decay to find the good bones underneath a crumbling veneer. He was able to build on that foundation and make something the likes of which Central Florida had never seen before – an adult wonderland of nostalgia, wrapped in the rhythms of the past, that grew into a bottomless mug of good times. (A beer metaphor seemed appropriate.) I feel like the good bones of his creation are still intact, but the skin is sagging, and age marks are starting to appear. It's time for the next Bob Snow to step up and bring Church Street back to life again.

The City's pretty new banners for the 150th anniversary of incorporation contrast starkly to the magic of my memories made in these now empty buildings.




I worked hard to find vestiges from the Church Street attraction where I came of age. I'm sure part of my metaphysical angst about the condition of the buildings are tied to fears of my own aging... 


As I left Church Street to continue exploring downtown, this sign along the track seemed fitting for the aging complex: "SEEK HELP/FIND HOPE."

Moving beyond Church Street, I found more evidence of the downtown that used to be the playground of my youth combined with the historic buildings that I have learned to love. The Tinker Building, built by a Hall of Fame Major Leaguer who brought the big leagues to O-town, looks dwarfed by the 21st century. The Rose Building also looks squeezed between the Angebilt on the right and another high rise on the left. Rose was a State Senator, developer of 1920s neighborhoods, and was influential in the creation of several of Orlando's wonderful parks. 



As I worked my way towards Lake Eola, the site of tonight's big fireworks display, I notice my mood started to improve, unburdened perhaps of the weight of my memories.  People walked dogs, tourists posed for pictures, and food vendors moved into position along the lake. The population of swans, however, still exceed the number of early morning Fourth of July visitors – in my opinion, we have enough swans now. Time to stop collecting. 






When I first moved to Orlando, even before I started working at Church Street, I would visit the newly-renovated Lake Eola to jog. I was miserable, friendless and dateless, removed from my family for the first time in my life, and a visit to the park lifted my spirits. Working at Church Street permanently removed me from that funk, and I can connect the dots from where I am today, to my time working there. That's why I am so saddened to see the entire Church Street block in a funk.

But on this day, Lake Eola is starting to work its magic. As diverse groups of people start to congregate, I remember that this place is really the heart of Orlando. At least on the Fourth of July. 


Tuesday, April 2, 2024

Award-winning design emerges from the ashes of Silver Springs fire

In December 1934, an advance group of four Seminole men began building a Seminole Village on a three-acre site, east of the swimming beach at Silver Springs. A group of 50 to 60 Seminole men, women, and children camped inside the park in an odd "living history" attraction near the same springs inhabited by Native Americans for hundreds of years (at least) prior. But this time they were on display for tourists visiting Silver Springs where they practiced traditional Seminole crafts and sold them as souvenirs.


The Seminole were apparently still living there early on the morning of June 15, 1955, when a young Seminole girl heard the sounds of a roaring fire and alerted Chief Robert Osceola. The Seminole leader then notified Oliver Allen of the Allen Reptile Institute, but by the time he reached the blaze the damage had been done. "Fire Guts Silver Springs" read the headline of the Orlando Evening Star, and the amount of destruction was estimated at a quarter of million dollars. "We are already making plans for a new building" Bill Ray, head of publicity for the attraction, was quoted as saying almost immediately. Then-owners of the park, W. Carl Ray Sr. and "Shorty" Davidson, quickly identified Sarasota architect Victory Lundy as the man to design the replacement buildings, and they quickly met and agreed on the scope of the project. 

The curved-building Lundy would design gracefully followed the contours of the famed spring basin where glass bottom boats floated above Mammoth Spring, the big reveal at the end of the magical ride over Florida's greatest natural wonder. The promenade fronted a 56,000 sq. ft. building with huge plate-glass windows, a staple of many mid century commercial buildings of what has come to be referred to as "Googie Architecture."  The flooring would be terrazzo, also standard for Florida mid-century architecture, but the entire structure would be air conditioned – then a novelty. 





A gushing newspaper review proclaimed that the new "sleeker structures" were constructed of "Sierra tan bricks" and featured the "abundant use of steel and glass." The new gift shop provided visitors with a "lovely tropical setting" and grounds surrounding the building have been "beautifully landscaped and provide great picture possibilities." The praise was well-deserved as Lundy's designs were recognized with accolades from Progressive Architecture magazine in 1956 and an award of merit by the AIA's national design competition in 1959. 

About the Architect

Victor Lundy from the Library of Congress

Lundy studied architecture at Harvard under the modernist legend and Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius.  He moved to Florida in 1951 and became part of what is now termed the Sarasota School of Architecture. On the occasion of his 100th birthday last year, world-architects.com posted this:

Lundy was trained in the Beaux Arts tradition at NYU (an education interrupted by WWII, where he earned a Purple Heart, a Victory Medal, and other honors) before venturing to Harvard GSD to learn by the Bauhaus method; such a traditional/modern education in architecture is, needless to say, a rarity. Following his Master of Architecture degree in 1948, a traveling scholarship, and years working for firms in New York City before licensure, he left for Florida and became a “member” of the so-called Sarasota School of Architecture. He designed houses, schools, and religious structures there in the 1950s before moving back to New York at the end of the decade, where he would work until the early 1980s, when he became a partner at HKS in Houston.

From the Library of Congress

from Wikimedia Commons

He created designs for many notable structures during his time in Florida – perhaps none as unforgettable as the breathtaking motel at Warm Mineral Springs.  Architect Magazine said this of the remarkable award-winning plan for the motor inn:

The U-shaped motel has a series of single-loaded rooms, entered from perimeter parking and overlooking a lushly planted courtyard. Above the rooms stand 14-foot-square, precast-concrete hyperbolic-paraboloid roofs that alter­nate in height. As originally constructed according to Lundy’s design, Plexiglas clerestories made the roofs appear to float, especially at night, with their undersides illuminated from within. “Designed to stop traffic,” Lundy said, the inverted roofs evoked the “fountain of youth” of the nearby warm mineral springs.

From Architect Magazine

From Life Magazine


Warm Mineral Springs Motel, 2011


The Lundy Center
Silver Springs has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. I grew up in Gainesville and before Disney World opened, all of our out-of-town guests were treated to a visit to Silver Springs. After I became an adult and moved to Orlando, years would pass between visits, but I experienced the Park in its many phases. My Dad and I almost missed a Johnny Cash concert because we were on the glass bottom boat. My wife and I visited on my birthday when the Park was full of exotic animals and a revolving tower lifted you over the spring. And when I heard stories of how the springs were impaired, I rented a canoe and discovered for myself how poor the water quality had become.

Throughout these changes Victor Lundy's pavilion has endured. When the State purchased the property, ending the roadside attraction era, the building showed its age. I had mixed opinions on my first few visits to Silver Springs State Park – I love the ability to kayak around the headspring but there was a huge void where all the animals and attractions had once been. The gift shop seemed a bit sad and the food offerings were underwhelming.

I visited last month, however,  and was pleased with what I witnessed. The parking lot was full and people were lined up to drop off their kayaks, canoes, and paddle boards. Lundy's building, now called "Lundy Center," had a new restaurant with a diverse menu and fun bar.  I ordered a falafel pita pocket and it was made fresh and very tasty. On this spring day the basin was full of people, paddling and experiencing what was formerly Florida's best attended tourist attraction and is now a much used State Park. 

March 2024

The Lundy Center still has issues – the restrooms were being renovated and based on appearances, they really needed a makeover. Exhibits from Silver Springs's glory days were scattered around in poorly lit areas and could do with better curation. But I could see behind the large plate glass windows, one area of the Lundy Center was being used for a private event, probably a wedding reception. The building now has a whole new life as a venue and as more resources are committed to its restoration, the space should only get better. 

Photographer: Lyn Larson | MAHAL IMAGERY

Just past Lundy's sweeping pavilion an interpretive marker explains the significance of the building's architect and introduces Lundy to a whole new audience who may never have heard of the Sarasota School of Architecture. In an op-ed I recently penned for the Sarasota Herald-Tribune, I proposed that the buildings at Warm Mineral Springs, designed by Jack West, another member of the Sarasota School of Architecture, might receive the same treatment. Currently, those structures are in rough shape and demolition is being considered. But one needs only to look to Silver Springs to see the potential for restoration and renewal.