(352) 392 aahp 358a ann

For information on terms of use of this interview, please see the SPOHP Creative Commons license at http://ufdc.ufl.edu/AfricanAmericanOralHistory.

Joel Buchanan Archive of African American History: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/ohfb

AAHP 358A Ann Pinkston

African American History Project (AAHP) Interviewed by Justin Dunnavant and Ryan Morini on October 9, 2014

2 hours, 56 minutes | 82 pages Abstract: Ms. Ann Pinkston was born in 1944 in Silver Springs, Florida. She recounts her cousin and brother Frank travelling to Boston to meet Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Her home often had short-term visitors, including Dana Swan. Her father was a pastor for close to seventy years and owned a drug store in west Gainesville. One night, the fear of racial violence was so great, she did not stay home. The NAACP organized Mass Meetings of prominent Black leaders partly led by her brother. Her whole family was very influential, Ms. Pinkston was an organizer and picketed. Her husband was one of the few Black physicians in Ocala, and she explains the rudeness of people in the health care industry. They discuss different Black newspapers that were available in Ocala. Keywords: Ocala; Silver Springs; Paradise Park; Civil Rights Movement; Chitlin’ Circuit; James Brown; Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.; Medgar Evers; Reverend Abernathy; Hampton Institute; Forest High; University of Florida; Virginia Union; Voting; Schools; White Citizens’ Council; Black Professionals; Marion County.

Samuel Proctor Oral History Program College of Liberal Arts and Sciences Program Director: Dr. Paul Ortiz

241 Pugh Hall PO Box 115215 Gainesville, FL 32611 (352) 392-7168 https://oral.history.ufl.edu

AAHP 358A Interviewee: Ann Pinkston Interviewer: Justin Dunnavant and Ryan Morini Date: October 9, 2014 M: So, this is Ryan Morini, with Justin—

D: Justin Dunnavant.

P: Ann Pinkston.

[Agnes _______ in background declines to add her name, but speaks further on in the

interview]

M: Just the three of us, then. [Laughter] It’s October 9, 2014. We’re in the home of

Ann Pinkston here in Ocala, Florida. So, let’s see—I mean, were you okay with

a—did you want to keep talking informally, or did you want to do an actual

interview?

P: However you want to do.

M: Either way.

D: Yeah, it’s about— [Laughter]

P: Yeah, I do a little column for our church’s monthly newsletter, and sometimes you

find, depending on who it is, and how things go, you do have to mix it up

sometimes. And sometimes, you just let them go, and you can get a whole lot

that way. And then sometimes, some people, you have to ask them everything.

D: Yeah. [Laughter]

P: However, whatever works best for you, I’m okay with it.

M: Okay, okay. Well, we’ll keep a mix of things going, I guess. But do you mind

stating when you were born, for the record?

AAHP 358A; Pinkston; Page 2

P: No, I don’t mind, at all. I was born July 13, 1944, in Silver Springs, Florida. The

first girl out of, I was number, what? Six, I guess. Seven. Six boys and seven—

hey, I’m getting mixed up here! Six boys and one girl. And I’m next to the last.

M: Were you born in a hospital there, or were you born at home?

P: Oh, I was born at home. We all were born at home, in a house that my parents

built. Their original house was my grandparents’ home until they built their own

house and moved into it. They moved into it, and—my parents were married in

1930, and then 1938, they moved into the house that they built, themselves, by

hand—with the help of neighbors, of course.

D: Were they originally from Silver Springs?

P: My dad’s originally from East Palatka, Florida, my mother’s originally from Silver

Springs. And they met here in Ocala, through some social function. And my dad

and his brother, who was a pharmacist, came to Ocala and opened up a drug

store on Southwest Broadway, and they called it Pinkston’s Drugs. And so,

through people in the community and so forth, they finally, my mom and dad met.

And of course, they were married for almost 68 years before my mother passed

away.

M: Could we get their names?

P: My dad was Oliver Van Pinkston, and my mother was Amelia Mae Jones

Pinkston.

M: Okay. And you said “Van,” is that V-A-N?

P: V-A-N, mmhm. Not like “van Pinkston,” as some countries, cultures and so forth,

but… that was just his middle name. Van. He was a minister. But before he


became a minister, he did carpentry work. Built kegs and different woodworking

projects up and down the Seaboard coast, between Florida and Maryland.

D: So that Jesus-John the Baptist connection has a deeper meaning. [Laughter]

P: Yes, yes. And so, the brother that he opened the drugstore with—my dad came

from a family of ten, six boys and four girls. And that particular brother went to

Howard, to pharmacy school. So he got his degree there. And so when he came

back, then—as with a lot of big families, the older ones start working first, and

then they help to send the younger ones off to college, and that kind of thing. And

so that was what happened in their case, the older ones worked—he and a

couple brothers—and sent that brother to school to become the pharmacist. And

so when he came out, he asked my dad to come over to Ocala with him to open

a drugstore. They did that for several years. But in the meantime, my dad was a

boat guy also, at Silver Springs. He was one of the original boat guys down

there. He and his father-in-law. And he did that for a very long time. And he just

did a lot of—a lot of jobs, because, as they were married in 1930, kids started

coming along. And so, my mother taught originally. But, after babies come along,

it was kind of hard, at that time, to try to work outside the home and take care of

a lot of little kids. So she became a stay-at-home mom, and he continued to grow

in his different ways. And one of them was being active in the church. Became a

deacon, and eventually felt the call to be a minister. And between the two of

them, they felt like he needed to have an education as well. So, he didn’t go off to

school, as such. When he was in high school, he did go to Florida Memorial,

because they had a boarding section for high school-aged people, and people


going to go on into college. He did start college, but he did not ever actually

graduate from Florida Memorial. But then, in the meantime, as he grew, he took

courses from Crozier Theological Seminary—that’s in Pennsylvania—and from,

there was another school in New York that he took courses through, and Virginia

Union University. He would actually go there and study. And there was a place

called Lakeland Seminary here in Florida that was near where the Reverend Billy

Graham went to. There was a connection between those schools, where he

went. So, he got his religious training, formal training. So anyway, they just raised

a whole bunch of children, tried to educate them to the best that they could, you

know, with [inaudible 7:07] and so forth. Some of us did, and some of us didn’t

finish, and so. But everybody had the opportunity to do so, with them working

hard. And my brother Frank went off to college at Virginia Union. I have a brother

Fred who was just older than he, who had gone to Virginia Union. So it’s kind of

like, maybe, one follows the other, kind of thing. And then, so that way they share

things, and it’s not as costly. But, and that was where Frank got his connection

with religion, becoming a minister, and becoming involved in Civil Rights.

Because I had a cousin there who was a minister also, the Reverend Harold

Pinkston, who was attending seminary at Union. He had graduated, gotten his

bachelor’s at Union, and then was back working on his theology degree. And he

just went to seminars all around, and found one up in Boston that Dr. King was

at, and he had heard some things about him, and my brothers and he went up to

this seminar up there, and my mother was one of those characters who believed

in keeping up with what was going on with her kids, and she would call them


periodically. And you know, there was one phone in the dormitory kind of thing,

but everybody knew everybody. And she called this particular weekend to speak

to them. They weren’t there. And if they left to go anywhere, they were supposed

to call home. But they didn’t. And then she found out some time later where they

had been. And it was both the being mad at them, but also being happy about

what they were doing. So, that was Frank’s initial meeting with Dr. King, was at a

seminar up in the Boston area, on Civil Rights and human rights. But anyway…

D: Did your parents talk about Civil Rights very much in the household when you

were growing up?

P: Not as such, no. Everybody was everybody. We referred to Silver Springs at the

time as being “out in the country.” And, actually, there were more Black people

there than there were Caucasian people out there. Mainly because Silver Springs

was a little tourist town, and so Black people naturally going be the ones who do

the janitorial, and the errands, and cleanup, whether it’s just from yardwork to

inside the building, and all those kinds of things. Mainly, Black people handled

those kinds of jobs. The Caucasian people generally did the office-type work.

And so, that was generally the ladies who did secretarial-type things and so forth.

So you didn’t find Black women back in that day doing that kind of thing. Not in a

corporation like that. And then, or outside of education, outside of schools. But at

any rate, it was a little tourist town, so it was mostly Black people who actually

lived there. But everybody knew everybody. You know, White people knew the

Black people, Black people knew the White people. So, but anybody was always

welcome at their door. And quite frequently, that did happen. It wasn’t just Black


people coming—people would, they call them ‘tramps’ and ‘travelers’ and all

kinds of names. People passing through, people needing help of some sort or the

other. And somehow, my mom and dad got known as people who helped people.

And so, even with all of us, they still had room at the table. That kind of thing. Or

a corner for somebody to sleep in, whatever kind of thing. And then, being a

tourist town, there was a motel there that housed stars who came to visit Silver

Springs. Like, there was a lady called Arlene Francis, who was on T.V. many

years ago. I think it would cross my mind, I think she had a show of her own. And

then, there were some movies being made there. What was her name, Russell,

who was one of the underwater mermaid stars and so forth. And anyway, other

people who were associated with Tarzan, and so forth. But anyway, the Black

people who came along with those people needed a place to stay because they

couldn’t stay at the motels. And instead of somebody going into Ocala every day

and coming back out to Silver Springs, they would look for somebody out at

Silver Springs for them to stay with. And guess who? So, there was always a

space for them. They would give up their bedroom so that whoever it was that

was with the group that was visiting would have their bedroom to stay in during

the time that they were there. So, it got to be that kind of thing. And there were

two ladies who they eventually took in on a permanent basis. They were in high

school. People used to come here in the winters, for the winter, a lot.

Northerners, and even from Mississippi in the case of this family—was a doctor

and his family who had a lady who was their cook, and nursemaid for their

children, and that kind of thing—came to Silver Springs for a winter. And they


liked it here. But, the thing of it was, was that their—housekeeper I’ll call her,

because she had lots of titles—but their housekeeper had two sisters, two young

sisters, who—[Phone rings; brief aside about answering it.]—that she took care

of, because their parents had died when they were little toddlers. And so, they

needed a place to stay, and of course they stayed with her parents. But then

when the people decided that they wanted to stay in Florida, then they needed a

place, and the girls could not come to stay with them where they were. So, they

wound up staying with my parents, and graduating from high school from Howard

High School—Howard Academy, it was called during that time. So, that was

Mattie Howell, and Clara. Clara wound up going into the military, and she met a

man from Haiti who was a son of a higher-up in Haiti, who worked, like, during

the Marcus Garvey times and so forth. So she married well-to-do. But then, when

all of the rumblings came about how money was being spent, because this

particular man that she married, his father sent him to school, went to UCLA—

and actually that’s where Clara met him—sent him to be a financier, and to be an

accountant, that kind of thing and so forth. He wanted to try to do the right thing,

by money that they were getting from other places for Haiti and that kind of thing.

Well, that didn’t go so very well. Things started happening, physical things

started happening to that family. And so, Garvey—was his name—finally decided

it wasn’t safe for his family anymore. So they left Haiti and then he went to work

for the UN for many years, until he retired, actually. But, that was kind of the thing

that happened with my family, was that my mom and dad, people came, people’d

stay—Dana, who was Frank’s, one of his right-hand men, Dana Swan from


University of Florida was one of the students who came. Dana’s family wasn’t so

keen about him being involved in the Civil Rights Movement. And a lot of kids,

and even some of us from here who were involved, their families just said, “No,

you can’t. If you do, then you can’t live here anymore.” That kind of thing. And so,

as with Dana, Dana wound up living with us for, beyond the Civil Rights years,

actually, as such. Just because, you know, we had become family. Really family

by that time. And so, he was just part of us. But there was always people at our

door. So it kind of just went on down the line with us, as well as children,

becoming adults and having our homes, we always had an open door. It didn’t

matter what color you were, what walk of life you came from. You know, my dad

used to say, “You can learn things from a drunk.” So, and you certainly can learn

things from a fool. And one of his favorite sayings was, you just consider the

source. When somebody says something that’s kind of off the wall or whatever,

yeah, just listen to the source, and you done with it. So, but that was the way that

they were. And with Frank, the houses were next door to each other, right there

at Silver Springs. So people were always at his door, you know, once he moved

back here. It was that kind of thing. And so—and I know I’m kind of jumping—

M: Oh, no, it’s fine.

P: But, when he came back and started working here, he was teaching at Howard

High School. And he became assistant pastor at the church that my dad

pastored. And the kids knew that he had participated in the Civil Rights

Movement in Virginia. And, of course, I being one of them when he came back—I

was a senior in high school—and Forest High was being built, had been being


built on for a while. But I thought, you know, I sure would love to graduate from

that high school. I wouldn’t have to ride that old bus to school, and blah blah

blah, that kind of thing. [Laughter] Because, well, I’d get on the bus about ten ‘til

seven, to get to school at eight thirty. Six miles away. You know. But our bus

went through Silver Springs, through a community called Mount Caanan, through

another little section out in Maricamp, and all around Ocala. Go out West Ocala

for a distance, and then back to Howard, by the time… So you know, you spent a

good bit of your time on the school bus. So I thought, that would be great. They

got all that new stuff, and that kind of mentality, you know. So when he came, I

just knew I could talk him into, “Hey, can you take me over there to school?” And

that kind of thing. And so, he said, “Well, it’s not quite that time yet.” And so I

started riding to school with him in the mornings, and that was mostly a daily

conversation. You know, “When am I going to be able to go to school over

there?” kind of thing. And then the other kids started doing the same thing to him.

And so, eventually, things evolved as they did. But back up with my mom and

dad, they just tried to make sure that we all got an education. And there were lots

of other people who went to school courtesy of them as well. And they just were

always pillars in the community. And, you know, the Civil Rights thing was not an

issue as such, because they believed in helping anybody who needed help. But

when it came down to rights and so forth, they believed in trying to get everybody

to register and vote. And, to do their civic part. My dad used to say, “In order to

be a good Christian, you’ve got to be a good citizen.” So… Which, if you are a

Christian or a religious person, well, you know, if you say you want to get to


Heaven then you got to live right. And you live right by the laws. And so, that’s

being a good citizen, obeying the laws. And being a good Christian, you still have

to obey the laws. So… But that was the way they lived, and taught us. And so

that’s where we got it from, and just kind of carry on down the line. So, our

brothers were either teachers or professional people, most of them. And so…

M: If you don’t mind my asking, so the… It sounds like Silver Springs, internally, with

the community, kind of had its own—its own thing going, I guess. But, what

about—did you go downtown to Ocala much? Because he had the drug store

down there, too, right?

P: Well, the drug store wasn’t in downtown, it was what we call down Broadway

towards the west side—

M: Oh okay, okay.

P: When you—I guess the dividing line, what street is that now?

X: Pine Avenue.

P: No, before Pine there’s a couple streets up where Black business started and

went west.

M: Magnolia?

P: Not Magnolia, the street before Magnolia—going west, the very next street from

Magnolia.

M: Okay.

X: What is called First Avenue now.

P: Called First Avenue—I think it might’ve been called Orange Avenue, at that time.

I believe that is what it was. Well, right about there was the dividing line where


Black businesses started. From dry cleaners, to fish markets, to banks, to dry

goods stores, restaurants.

X: Yeah, because all of that was still here in [19]63.

P: Bars, and you name it. Whatever you needed from downtown—or uptown,

whichever way you want to look at it—you could get it in that area.

X: That area was Broadway, it was Broadway then.

P: Yes. And so that whole area… Funeral homes. I think I said banks, but just in

case I didn’t say banks: Black banks. Even though for a little bit going towards

Magnolia, there were a couple of sole Black businesses, but the Black banks was

a little farther up, going toward the square. But there were many—and then, if

you were going south, then people, see, started homes. Black homes were in

that area too, as far up as that area. But, there was pretty much a distinct dividing

line from East Ocala to West Ocala. And especially as far as businesses and so

forth, and what-have-you.

M: Okay. So did you—

P: So we were technically in the west side. [Laughter]

M: Did you ever go into the downtown-downtown Ocala, or was that just kind of a…?

P: Oh yes! Oh yes, we did. Periodically, we did. There might have been something

that you wanted that wasn’t available at the very time that you wanted it or

needed it. And then, the bigger banks were all on that side, and that kind of thing.

And then the courthouse was on the big square downtown there, and so…You

went down. And some of the other drugstores, the bigger drugstores and so

forth. And I have to tell you a little personal story. I always said I was gonna be a


pharmacist, also. Different ones of us, the kids, worked at the drugstore during

the summer months and so forth. And in our family, our uncle had the name of

being a little bit miserly, you know, to put it nicely. But so I was one of the few of

my siblings that got paid—somewhat. [Laughter] But our, my brother Frank didn’t

get what he thought he should get. He loved comics—he loved comics—and he

loved ice cream. So he said, he compensated himself and was paid by, through

the comics and the ice cream. [Laughter] And I just sort of took after him, doing

the same thing that he did, compensated me a little bit more monetarily than he

did anybody else. But we all had our turns working there, and we met a lot of

people that way, too. But that was part of being there. And another thing that I

learned saying that I wanted to be a pharmacist was that I learned to fill

prescriptions. I guess the period of—what would you call the period where you

can’t arrest somebody about something? When you can’t arrest somebody?

M: Oh, statute of limitations?

P: Statute of, yeah. Statute of limitations had passed by now, so I’ll go over what it

says. I did fill prescriptions when my uncle felt like he needed a little break. He

had taught me how to fill them, and how to read prescriptions. And so, I filled

them. If there was something that I couldn’t decipher, and the person needed it

right away, they couldn’t wait, then I would just give it back to them and tell them

we were out of that particular thing right now, and send them to one of the drug

stores farther up the street. But if it was something that I could handle, I did it.

And nobody ever got sicker, that we knew of. But I really learned a lot that way,

about a lot of things; people, and life, and the whole bit. And I wound up being a


registered nurse with an oncology specialty. A little ways from pharmacology, but

I still had to have a lot of pharmacology in my nursing, though. Especially with

what I was doing. So I did get off to a good start [Laughter]

D: So what sort of things did you all sell in the drugstore? You mentioned comics

and ice cream?

P: Comics, ice cream… It had a little we had a little soda fountain area so we did as

far as that part went, we did anything that you would get in a regular soda shop

downtown, from the milkshakes to sundaes, to hamburgers, hotdogs, fries, you

name it, we had it. Then other than that, we had all the medical supplies you’d

need, from band aids all the way up to regular prescription medicines, everything

that fell that category; then other incidentals, the hygiene products ladies would

need, all the grooming stuff that men and women needed and so forth.

M: So were you spending a lot of time in town then? Or—

P: It did get to be a point where we did. Because by the time I got to high school,

and my younger brother [sister?] is just about a four years’ difference in our ages;

she came in into work in the drug store as well a lot during like running the soda

fountain area and things like that, and keeping inventory and so forth so she did

a lot of background work, and things like that. About the only time we didn’t was

on Sundays because Sunday was always completely filled with church activities.

So we didn’t. So it got to a place where it was closed on Sundays until about 7

o’clock, 8 o’clock in the evening, and my uncle decided he couldn’t let a day go

by without it being open at all. So it had to be open at least for a couple of hours

on Sunday nights, and people would come in and get ice cream and things like


that. Milkshakes and so forth. But yeah, we did spend quite a bit of time there.

Plus, my younger brother and I during that time with my mom being there,

because we just were not home out in the country by ourselves, being young kids

still. She always took us with her wherever she went.

D: What do you remember most about your father’s church? Going to church with

your father, preaching—

P: About going to church with him? Well, another little background about him was

that he was a minister probably close to 70 years, but during that time, he

pastored New Covenant for about 3 months or so shy of being 50 years. And

then he pastored in 3 other churches, and that were the only churches he ever

pastored. There was a little church in the area called Canaan off about 4 to 5

miles just east of Silver Springs. It was in what we called a little sawmill

community. Where pine trees grow, and they’d cut down for lumber, and they

took the sap from trees to make turpentine and things like that, rural community

like that. So he was a pastor for that little community. I can remember going to

that little church. In my mind’s eye even now, it wasn’t as big as this. And the

pews were just little benches, almost like a picnic bench, a picnic table bench,

just that little piece. That’s what the pews were basically like. And it was only

about, maybe, ten or twelve families, something like that. But then, everybody

didn’t go to church, and so it still wasn’t a lot of people at church even for that

small amount of people in the community. Usually those weekends were spent

with the men drinking and that kind of thing when they get their little pay and so

forth, so they had not come around enough on Sundays to participate in Sunday


services. And so, basically it was just a lot of kids, and some of the wives would

be there and that kind of thing. But still, there always was a little church and a

little community store. I can remember going there and just—so I’m sitting there,

just looking around, and that the church was sitting right next to the Ocklawaha

River, and seeing people being baptized in the river. Now those are the things I

can remember about. And having a picnic there. Then there was a church called

Ramah Baptist Church in Belleview. Then he started pastoring in Silver Springs

first, I believe that was, that was Saint Mary’s and Silver Springs. And he

pastored there for quite a few years. And there, that was where I became a

member of the church, was baptized up on the Silver River, down Silver Springs

but over in a park called Paradise Park where the Black people went to. That was

where we had our baptisms. And I of course sang in the little junior choir.

Sometimes I was one of the song leaders. But then, all the kids participated in all

the areas of the church, so sometimes you were usher, sometimes you’d help

take up the collection, different things like that. And going to Sunday school and

BTU, all training classes, and learning the Bible, that kind of thing. And then, at

Ramah down in Belleview, I actually was born during the time he pastored the

church there. Because until just a few years ago, and most of those people have

died now, they would call me the Belleview baby because of being born during

the time he pastored there. They had all the boys and the finally a girl came

along while they were pastoring there. So I was called the Belleview baby. Even

at the hospital sometimes, people would come up and visit patients—I was the

head nurse—and if I were at the desk when some of those people came along,


and if there were other nurses in there, they would crack up because people

would always be, “Oh, there’s our Belleview baby!” I never outgrew that title. I

don’t know if they ever really knew my real first time, because they’d always call

me “Belleview baby.” The only thing I can remember about that, because he was

there for quite a while, so I was old enough to know about Santa Claus. And

there was always—all Black churches had this Christmas program, where you’d

have everybody say their little Christmas speeches, and you would get presented

little Christmas tokens. Santa Claus would come and distribute the Christmas

gifts. I can remember that there was a man named Frank Washington who was

the principal of the Fort King middle school for many years, and Frank is still

living, by the way, too. Frank was such a mischievous kid. When Santa Claus

came to give out the gifts, he called Frank out in particular because he had been

so mischievous! He had a special gift for him that was long, and it’s the thing that

this guy, the football player’s getting in trouble with now—the switch. So Santa

Claus had a long switch for him, and some other little things that kids did not

want to associate with in getting for Christmas. And so, Santa chased Frank and

his dad around, and around, and around that church, it seemed, for half the night,

with his dad trying to keep him from Santa because he had been such a bad boy.

That’s something that I remember from there. At New Covenant—which we

called Covenant at the time, we became New Covenant after some new church

was erected and so forth just here a few years ago. But at Covenant, I remember

making some lifelong friends, and from a young kid, 6 or 7 years old, and kids

who I went to school with the rest of my days, and from participating in activities


at church, the choir mostly. I didn’t participate much at that point then, but I did

with choir and different things, and we had, I was—our [inaudible 35:15]

represented our church a couple occasions at a convention—in our Sunday

school convention. Things like that, just meeting lots of people as a kid growing

up, those kinds of things, all the learning. All the things that the older women

talked to girls, and that kind of thing, so forth. But, a lot of, because I can

remember a lot of kids coming to church there because, “Oh, I’m going to church

with Anne!” You know, that kind of thing, you have these friends that you develop

in school, so of course you want to be together all the time. So they started

coming to our church as well.

D: You mentioned earlier about Paradise Park. I was wondering if you could expand

on that a little bit. We’ve heard some stories about Paradise Park.

P: About Paradise Park? Well, Paradise Park was that part of Silver Springs that

Black people went to for swimming and entertainment, versus going to the main

attraction of Silver Springs. We did not go to the main part of Silver Springs even

though our people—like I said, my dad worked there, and old Black folks worked

there, and that kind of thing. But you didn’t go there, because of segregation. So

you didn’t go there. Even to ride the glass bottom boats. They actually had two or

three boats that they would have, and maybe another one or so during holiday

times, that they would send over to Paradise Park, because the holiday times

would be many people from all over the southeast coming to Paradise Park.

Because it was one of the few Black parks in the southeast. And so they would

have glass bottom boats come there, pick up people from Paradise Park, take


them all the way back up Silver Springs, see all the fish shows and so forth, and

the Silver River there, and take us back down to Paradise Park. And during those

times, there was a boat called the Jungle Cruise Boat that went—now, Paradise

Park, I would think, was about maybe two miles or so from the main part of Silver

Springs, for, river-wise. But Jungle Cruise Boat went from the main part of Silver

Springs attraction, passed Paradise Park, and I’m not sure to this day how much

farther down it went, because we could not ride the Jungle Cruise at all. So,

holiday time, any other time, we didn’t ride it. We only were allowed to have the

glass bottom boat. But supposedly, what you saw on the Jungle Cruise were

some monkeys, and some different animal life, and reptile life, that you didn’t see

on the rest of the trip, and where the Silver River joined up with Ocklawaha. So—

you’ve heard of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings? What was that movie?

X: The Yearling.

P: The Yearling.

D: Oh, okay.

P: Where it was made, supposedly the Jungle Cruise went that far down. But we

never saw it from that side, at any rate. But that was, Paradise Park. The

manager there was a Black man named Eddie Vereen—you made have heard of

him by now—but Eddie Vereen managed Paradise Park. It was open every day,

sunup to sundown. It was a very immaculate place. Besides the glass-bottomed

boat, there was swimming, with lifeguard on duty most of the time—trained

lifeguards, because most of them had been trained through 4-H because during

that time a lot of kids went to 4-H. 4-H was a summer program mostly. It did go


through the school year sometimes, but mostly during the summertime. It was

like a camp that was up in the forest, and so a lot a kids—there was a Black

section and a White section of course—so the Black kids went to Doe Lake to

camp, and they learned a lot of crafts, and swimming, and stuff like that, and be

lifeguards and so forth. So, usually guys had been to training like that who were

lifeguards. So there was the swimming. There was a big pavilion where you

could have a dancing and so forth. I mean, there were lots of picnic places

around, scattered through the park. I would say it probably was maybe about five

acres or so of park land—judging, I know what three acres is like, so I’m thinking,

would judge it to be, probably it was about five acres of picnic area and grounds

and so forth. There was also, you have heard of Ross Allen. Ross Allen had a

reptile—we called a reptile back in our day. A reptile institute. But it was a place

where they had lots of alligators and snakes and so forth.

X: Especially rattlesnakes.

P: Oh, yes. So, we had our version of it as well. And there were a couple of different

gentleman who worked that area, and a couple of them—well, both of them—

eventually were bitten by rattlesnakes and so forth. But, there was a Mr. Glover—

both of the guys in that, Willie Johnson, and—I can’t think of Mr. Glover’s first

name right now—but they were the men who worked there. And my oldest

brother, Wendell, used to run the photo shop in there. In there, you could take

pictures to show you had been to Paradise Park. It was a little souvenir shop

where you could buys things saying, you know, about Silver Springs and that

kind of thing.


X: Paradise Park was known all over the state because—I can’t remember—any

school during that time, before school was over for the summer, you almost

always had a field day to Silver Springs, which was Paradise Park for Black

people, okay? From everywhere all over this state, you came to Silver Springs for

that big to-do before school was out.

M: So did you meet a lot of people from other parts of the state?

P: Oh yeah from all around, from the Southeast. That’s what I was saying earlier

about, one of the few Black parks throughout the southeastern United States.

And that was why on those other occasions, the holidays, they would hire the

extra boats to come down, to take care of the crowds and so forth. You met a lot

of kids that way, you know, and that was one thing that—and we could walk from

my house to Paradise Park. My brothers were brave enough, they would cut

through and go across the river at some point, and go over there. I followed them

doing a lot of things, but that one I didn’t. [Laughter] But, there was another,

bigger, souvenir shop also, where you could buy T-shirts, and caps, and things

like that and so forth. But they had a lunch counter, where you could buy—really,

a whole meal. Or, you know, you would bring your own stuff, however you

wanted to. They had cold drinks and whatever you wanted like that. No alcoholic

beverages or anything, though. The other thing about Paradise Park was that

there was usually something special at holiday times. Like, Christmas, Santa

Claus came and distributed gifts, that kind of thing. But Labor Day weekend was

a big weekend because there was always a Miss Paradise Park contest. My

senior year, I was entering the contest but I got ill and I couldn’t participate. I


don’t remember who did in my place now… But at any rate, I would have been a

contestant that year. But, these young ladies were from all over the southeast,

and one of the would be crowned. And basically, it was a swimsuit contest, really,

was what it was. [Laughter] But over the years—and that went from, I guess, the

early [19]50s late [19]40s, up until Paradise Park closed. So that was open for

many years, with lots of beautiful young ladies—

X: It wasn’t until ABC bought Silver Springs—by that, Paradise Park was closed,

and the springs was opened into all—you know, it was integrated. ABC, the

same ABC television, da da da da.

P: Agnes’s husband was a boat guy at Silver Springs, so she has some old inside

info too.

M: And so you were saying there were Black guys in the regular Silver Springs

area?

P: The boat guys? Mostly, they were all Black. Yes. It was maybe a couple of White

guys.

X: Back in those days, I don’t remember—

P: It was two. And I’m trying to think of that family’s name right now, because they

were one of the old families from Silver Springs. Oh, gosh! There’s one was my

person down in the boating place all the time. Cheatham! Cheatham families,

yes. One or two of those brothers—it was a good sized family of them—who

worked different areas of Silver Springs. But one of them did. I know there was

one guy who was one of the—there were no Black Jungle Cruise drivers, though.

M: Oh, so not even the guide could go down that!


P: Not even the guide was Black from the Jungle Cruise. Nope.

M: Wow. Was that a tough job? I’m just thinking, because you’re getting all these

White tourists from all over the southeast, probably coming to—like, did he ever

share any difficult stories about working that job, or was it pretty smooth for him?

Or what was that like?

P: In a way it was tough, only—but my dad always had a way of minimizing things,

first off. He always saw the good side of things. He saw very little bad in

situations and that kind of thing. I mean, it had to be awfully terrible for him to

really speak up so boldly. Maybe I’ll get to that part somewhere along the way,

but the only thing, I can remember one thing that really upset him one time was

that—because he was also, he didn’t, other than the boat guide. Now that part

was no problem, I never heard him talk about any bad experiences with that. But

then a point, the more he pastored, the busier he got, also. And it required more

of his time. So he sort of cut back on some of his other little jobs like that. But he

still did some things like, somewhat like an errand boy—running between offices

doing things, picking up mail from the post office and delivering stuff, those kinds

of things. But, then he also did a janitor’s job some days. And I can remember,

one Sunday morning, that he had cleaned the bathroom, and it wasn’t time for it

to be open yet, but these ladies said they had to go. So knowing him, he wasn’t

going to keep them out. He let them in. And as they were leaving, they happened

to mention to him that he needed to go back in and do a little more cleaning. And

when he did, they had defecated on the floor in the middle of the bathroom,

versus using the commode. And that really upset him. I think especially because


on Sunday morning, he had to go preach, and that kind of thing and so forth. But

that was one of the very negative things about a person individually that really

bothered him.

M: Did they know him personally at all?

P: Oh no, they were just some visitors.

X: Just to be [inaudible 48:21]

P: They just came there knowing that was what he was doing, and it wasn’t as

though they didn’t have time to make it, because it was right by the door—going

into the stall, you know, not the door that you go into the main bathroom. But it

was right there. I mean, I know we have times where we—but, from the way it

was, their clothes were not—

X: It was intentional.

D: Mmhm! [Laughter]

P: Yeah. It was that kind of thing, very intentional. Other than that, you never heard

him talk about unpleasant things, because, I think in a way, it was—if the day

went by and you weren’t called the “n”-word, then that would be unusual.

[Laughter]

X: But that was your name, back then.

P: That’s what I said.

X: That was just simply your name. “Hey, [n-]!”

P: It would have been a really sort if nobody had said it during the course of the

day.

D: Did you all ever get Black tourists that would stay with you all and family?


P: If Black tourists?

D: Or did they have a separate motel? Because you mentioned that a lot of stars

didn’t have any place to stay.

P: There was a little place in Ocala, on West Broadway, that was at one point—sort

of like a rooming house, actually, but it was also used as a motel for people

coming through. But, mostly, it was a rooming house. But I guess every now and

then, somebody might would be staying. Because even, say, like Sunday school

conventions, which were popular. When you couldn’t live in a hotel, people took

people into their homes to stay, so… But generally, you knew that that was what

it was going to be about. Not because somebody just visiting vacationing—I

mean, that would be a very rare thing anyway, that a Black family could take a

vacation, as such, like, to stay several days. Usually, you went to some place

where you had relatives so you could stay with them, and go do your sightseeing

or whatever. That kind of thing.

X: If you were a movie star, or singer, or something like that, you maybe stayed in

Daytona. And if you were coming to the—you would make a side trip to Ocala, to

the springs, if you wanted to see Paradise Park. Someplace where you never

stayed more—further away than you could drive back to your destination.

P: Especially people on the Chitlin’ Circuit, those people. Then they would stay

wherever else. Because lot of times, in the bigger cities they weren’t staying in

the motels either. But that’s what they would do, just got back and forth.

M: Did the Chitlin’ Circuit come through here?


P: It did. [Laughter] It did, and I can tell you, one of the nights James Brown was

here, was the same night that Reverend Abernathy spoke here. And there was

as big a crowd, or more, probably, at the club where James Brown was, than it

was at the Mass Meeting. And I happen to know, because—I went. [Laughter] I

went to the Mass Meeting, and that was—

X: And then to James Brown.

P: And then to James Brown. By the time the Mass Meeting was over, you couldn’t

hardly get up on the grounds out at the club. And that was one night, and this is

going to be out of sequence for what you’re doing, but—while it’s on my mind—

that was the one night that we did not spend in our house during all the Civil

Rights years. And that was because the threats were so very real, and there had

been an incident. And I don’t know if Mose Menchan, or Mr. Stevenson

mentioned it or not. But there were some little incidents, but that particular night,

they would not let us stay in our house. I stayed with some people. My mom and

dad stayed with some people. I had a brother Fred—the one who is just older

than Frank, who went to Virginia Union, they went together. He and his wife

stayed at another place. They were here visiting at the time, which was timely

because they picked up Reverend Abernathy from the airport in Jacksonville and

they took him back, kind of being unknown to—because they didn’t live here,

either. They lived down in South Florida. So, that was a car that nobody would

have suspected for Reverend Abernathy to be traveling in, because they were

after him also. But, that night, they would not because the threats were just too

real. Again, about the name calling being a daily thing, it was a daily thing to gets


threats. Every day. And it was at one point, they only wanted my mom to answer

the phone, because there was something about it—and this came from

somebody with the FBI—was that they would have more fun in a sense, but they

felt like they would get to more people, too, if different people were answering the

phone. But if one person’s answering all the time, that’s not what they wanted.

They wanted to be able to touch a lot of people. That kind of thing. So, she was

the only person. And at that particular time, Frank and his family, we were all

living in the same house. Their house was being built at that time. And so we

were all there together, under the same roof. I was there, and I had a baby. And

my husband wasn’t here at the time, he was a professional baseball player, and

it was right, at that particular time, it was right like beginning of baseball season,

somewhere along about that time, so it was in the spring of the year.

M: Oh okay, spring training kind of thing? Yeah.

P: Yes. And then, my younger brother was still at home. And then Dana was there,

and that really would get a lot of people—you know, this White young fellow,

living with these Black people kind of thing. But they just said it was unsafe, and

so only my mom was asked to answer the phone, take messages, and things like

that. But it was a daily thing. But at that particular time it was just very, very real.

You couldn’t trust anything, so you had to suspect every call, or every act was

real. But that was just very real that night. And that was one of the nights when,

even at the church, they just had things worked so that, it must’ve been every

Hunting and Fishing man from anywhere in town must have been there. One of

the times when the church was so loaded with guns that… [Laughter]


D: What was that night about? Was there a special reason why he came into town,

Reverend Abernathy?

P: Oh, it was part of our regular Mass Meetings. This is during the time my brother

was present of NAACP and so forth. We had national people always in our pulpit

for Mass Meeting, regularly. Regularly. Even Jackie Robinson was here. Some of

the well-known names in the NAACP, the higher-ups, would come here. We had

the people of the NAACP in the nation, Black Stars, and so forth, come in to our

pulpit for Mass Meetings.

D: Do you remember what the conversation of the message was when Abernathy

came?

P: I sure don’t. I wish I did but I don’t. I don’t even remember what it was when

Jackie Robinson was here, and I adored him. [Laughter] I’m 70 years old and I’m

coming to that age where things are starting to kind of fade away a little bit so—

M: It’s all good stuff so far. We’ve heard that the church would get packed for all

those Mass Meetings. People came out for—

P: Oh, it was! Not just standing room, it wasn’t even standing room only. I mean, all

over the grounds, all over. All over. Did you go through church when you

interviewed, uh—

M: Yeah, we were—

P: Or you’ve passed by the church? Have you seen it?

M: I mean, I guess it’s the new church.

P: It’s a new church, but it’s still sitting on the same spot.

M: Okay. Because we were down in the basement there.


D: Yeah, we saw a picture of it.

P: Of the old church?

D: Mmhm.

P: Okay. I have one right here.

D: Because it was standing up on cinder blocks? Was it up on blocks at the time?

P: The very old church? Yes, at that time was, because men lights rigged under

there, and the whole bit and so forth. Yeah. So there would be people over to

that, next to Fort King, the street behind the church there. People would be in

where they could get.

X: That was before the overpass was built up, so you could just walk across the

street.

P: Still houses and so forth. The regular neighborhoods, too. But people would be

there early, way early, before time for me. Because if you wanted to be inside the

room—they had the microphones rigged so you could hear, but you know, you

want to be right there where the action is. Right there, seeing it yourself, take

place and that kind of thing. You couldn’t tell where the choir standing from the

real audience—literally—because everybody, people who sang and didn’t sing

were in the choir stand. [Laughter] All down the pulpit and everywhere. Yes. It

was always overflow. Always. And that was almost every Tuesday night.

M: That’s the other thing we were told by Rosemary and other—oh, sorry—

P: No, go ahead. Go ahead. I just have to remember something.


M: That, even if there wasn’t some guest speaker coming in from somewhere, if

your brother was speaking, people packed the church just to hear him speak.

They say he was just—electric—

P: He was a dynamic speaker. He was electrifying. Mmhm, he was. I have to say he

was.

X: That old saying that God takes the good young, is very true in George’s case.

P: Are you going to be coming back?

M: Yeah. Anytime, yeah.

P: Okay, because I’m pretty sure I could put my hand on it right now, but I hate to

be digging while we could be talking and stuff. I know I have a couple of

programs, they’re just scribbled out hand-written notes from some Mass

Meetings.

M: Oh, that would be—yeah, that would be great. We can scan them, and get them

so they’re—

X: Tell me where they are, and I’ll get them for you.

P: No, they’re in this box like that, somewhere stored in this box right here.

M: Do you know if anyone ever recorded your brother speaking?

P: I know Mose Menchan did, but I didn’t get to church Sunday, so I didn’t--because

Rosemary and I talk about this last week, I didn’t get there, now. But I still could

have called him on the phone. I know that he did, but whether he would still have

it or not would be the question. Because that would be those old reel-type tapes.

M: Well, worth checking.


P: My brother died in [19]73. And I know his last sermon was in in July or August of

[19]73 here.

M: Okay.

P: He died in November of [19]73. They say he died the same year Vertrielle was

born.

D: Do you know if they ever broadcasted any of the Mass Meetings, or any of the

preaching over the radio?

P: No. No, we hadn’t gotten quite that far yet. The only thing from the Black

community that was on the radio during those times: Cunningham Funeral Home

had—there were two brothers, James and Albert. And Albert used to have a little

Gospel program on the radio for a couple of hours or so, at some time during the

day. I don’t even remember what time during the day it was. But he had a

program on there. And the funny thing—I’ll tell you about this is that, he was

saying, people used to tell him all the time about being on the White radio station

and so forth. Of course, we didn’t have a Black radio station here! And then the

next thing was that, “You got to go over to White town to do it!” I think it was

probably during one of those times when we had, like, a boycott on downtown.

And he said, “Yeah it’s a job for me”—and, of course he ran the funeral home,

and he said, you know, “I got to feed my family,” and that kind of thing and so

forth. He said, but—oh, and then they would challenge him about, the ads were

for businesses—White businesses. He said, “But just remember: if you listen, I

never fail to tell you that they’re in downtown Ocala!” And that supposed to have

been your clue. [Laughter]


D: No White business! [Laughter]

P: “They’re in downtown Ocala!” So that meant, you stay away from downtown!

X: There were ways of getting it across.

P: Mmhm.

D: You mentioned earlier about some of the threats and some other incidences, did

any of them manifest into anything that either scared you, or maybe scared your

parents or relatives to the point of—?

P: Something that did happen—now, and it would take Mr. Menchan or Stevenson

to really tell you the real story of how that went. But, my understanding—and my

dear brother’s dead, now—but there was a real incident of somebody getting

wounded. Now, let’s leave it at that. But nothing was never made of it.

X: Was there in a road trip between here and Daytona?

P: No, this was right here at the house. Right there in the field, right in front of the

house. But I’ll tell you something funny like that—

[Break in recording; resumes as AP is showing RM and JD objects around the house.]

M: Oh okay, one second. It’s back on there.

P: Oh yes, I’m sorry.

M: No that’s—so he was an artist.

P: He did. I did have an [inaudible 1:04:15] a Nativity scene he had done. It was just

on the canvas, and I used to put it out at Christmastime. And I thought I, was

thinking for a minute I had it in the chair over there. I did have it over there a

while ago, and put it away. He was quite a character. He was funny. He could be

very serious. And being a big brother, we were pretty close. Very close. Even


through all this, illnesses and everything else, we were just very close. Of course,

I consider I was close with each one of my brothers in certain ways. We each

had our own little thing. But he was a smart guy. You didn’t always see him on

the A/B Honor Roll, but he was very smart, he was. One day as a big brother, he

and Fred both really made get my lesson! My mother didn’t have to worry about

it. She turned it over to them—as though she wasn’t bad enough! They both were

English majors, originally in college. He taught English and Spanish in high

school.

M: Where’d he pick up Spanish? Was that at school too?

P: I think it was just another have-something-to-do kind of thing when he went on to

college. But I think—I guess maybe he was getting the taste of it in high school,

because that was the only foreign language that we ever had, or was ever

offered for us in the Black community, basically. I don’t think I ever heard of a

Black high school offering French, or anything else like that.

X: I took three years of French in high school.

P: Oh really? Wow! Y’all were progressive Black folks down here!

X: I went to Union Academy, what else [inaudible 1:06:29]

P: So for us, we all got a taste of Spanish. So I’m sure it’s just following along to

college, and it’s something else that he could do. And he was quite an athlete.

M: Oh yeah?

P: Yes. In baseball, football, track and field. He and Fred both—well now, Fred

didn’t play football, but they both did those, they were much alike. Only, Fred was

the quieter one and they’re closer in age to what the rest of us were. But they


were like buddies. He was a very gifted person. He became a minister when he

was in college. I said he was quite an athlete. He played—but I’m saying

baseball was one of the things that he played. And he was always outstanding in

sports. So then, he got invited to the Brooklyn Dodgers’ baseball camp to try out.

And about that same time, he was also wrestling with the ministry thing. And so,

just before he left baseball camp he decided that—and at that time, it was kind of

difficult to be a minister and play a professional sport. So, he decided he would

go the ministry route. And so then, the next school term around, he enrolled in

theology. So he got a master’s. He had a master’s in theology. And he was one

of those people who loved learning. And he was a good pastor. He pastored at

Mount Moriah here for quite some time. He was outstanding at the things that he

did. Even as a big brother, he was outstanding in my book.

X: I think he had a special connection with young people—

P: Old people loved him, too.

X: But there was a special connection—

P: But—yeah, I understand what you’re saying. Yes.

X: When I say young people, I mean teens and college age. Because I was a

college age person when—you could talk to him.

P: Yeah, anybody. Anybody.

X: And you know, kids in college don’t truck around people in the ministry too much.

[Laughter]

P: No, but you know what the kids used to say? The kids who were in his

homeroom said that on Mondays, they had church again. And the rest of the


week, they had to get down to basics with academics. They’d get church out the

way. But I guess it helped a lot of kids though—you know, a lot of kids find their

way, and know who they were, and what they want to do in life. Even as the kids

who were in his classes, that’s all you ever hear from them. “Man, Reverend

Pinkston,” “Man, Reverend Pinkston,” “Man, Reverend Pinkston”; “Reverend

Pinkston did this,” “Reverend Pinkston did that.” “I remember when Reverend

Pinkston did this.” I remember one time, when there—I can’t think of that boy’s

name, now. He said, “I did something dumb”—and he was coaching baseball at

that time at Howard. He said, “I did something dumb, and made everybody run

around the field”—I forgot how many times, now, but it was a lot of times. He

said, “Just because of me, but we had to run until he got tired, and he was just

standing there!” [Laughter] But it’s funny, because they love telling those things

about themselves, and so forth. But he was quite a character.

M: Did he always seem like that kind of a leader when he was younger, or was that

after he went to college he kind of—?

P: No. According to my mother, he was always the leader. From a little boy. Another

little anecdote about him was that I remember talking about things in Sunday

school and church and so forth. My daddy gave him twenty dollars to do

something with, I don’t recall what it was, but he had given him a twenty-dollar

bill. Anyway, back in during that day, every Sunday school class took up their

own little collection. And so, there apparently was a little—and I know there used

to be a little thing, a banner. Whoever had the most money would get the banner

for that Sunday. Well, all of the sudden, the church went and announced the


banner class for that Sunday. His class had twenty-some dollars! [Laughter]

“Twenty-some dollars? Where did those kids get that kind of money from?” And

somebody said, “Well, Frank put twenty of it himself. A big twenty-dollar bill!”

[Laughter] He was always giving. And if somebody was fighting down the road,

he was going to be the referee, he was going to be the one to break it up, and all

that kind of stuff. But he was going to be the one who stand up for the little guy,

kind of thing. He was always that way, from a little one. Always. And I do know

that same thing at school. I can remember, a lot of times I did regret not riding

the bus, because if there was a fight on the school bus someplace, usually, the

principal went to take care of things if the bus driver felt like he needed

somebody to come and do something. Well, guess who would be the one to go?

And so there we are, sitting in the car. I’m sitting at school, waiting until he got

through taking care of everybody, and getting the situation taken care of, and I’d

be thinking about all the things I could have been doing. I could’ve gone on the

bus and wrung somebody’s neck myself! [Laughter] But he was always the one

that went straight to—even on campus. Something came up, and—God bless the

dead, whatever the saying is—same thing happened there, a lot of things that

happened on campus were things that the principal ordinarily would take care of.

And it was he who was the one who was fortunate enough to take care of it. And

then saying that too, not just from native incidents, or problems with kids and

stuff like that, but if there was something that he thought his class needed, or

somebody in school needed something, and you had to go down to the school

board and get it. If the principal or whoever was a little slow getting it, and he


thought it was needed now, he had no problem going and getting it. And I think

that’s why the kids—because they felt like he really was looking after them, and

had them in mind.

D: Do you think that’s possibly why he was so effective as an organizer? In terms of

getting kids involved in the organizing.

P: Yes, I’m certain. There were no problem, believe it or not.

D: How did the parents feel about their kids being involved in some of these—?

P: The parents who didn’t care for their kids getting involved, were parents who. By

and large, didn’t participate anyway, even themselves, or anything, would have—

you’d be amazed, a lot of people did not believe in going out there, and getting in

trouble. Or sticking their necks out, and don’t know what’s going to happen.

“They won’t be putting me in jail!” or those kinds of things. But parents, most of

the parents, were very receptive, and a lot of them had the feeling that, “Well, if

Reverend Pinkston is in charge of it, then it’s all right. I don’t have a problem with

it.” And that was the general feeling.

M: Well, and we’ve been told it was very well-organized. I mean they were drilling,

and instructing, and—

P: He was always that kind of person. You know, there are just certain kinds of

personalities? Some people just know how to do some things. My mother was

like that--my dad was too. They made a good pair. But, she was like that. And

then, you were going to get it right, too. It had to be done right. If you can’t do it

right, leave it alone. It was that kind of a attitude.


D: Do you remember the first time that you got involved in organizing or did any type

of demonstrations, or—?

P: Actually, my very first time was when I was at Hampton Institute, my freshman

year—as such, organized thing. Because it was later when I was back here and

got into the Movement here. But, my freshman year, one Sunday afternoon, the

student government decided they were going to picket a movie theatre. And so, I

just went down and marched, and that was all we did. And didn’t do much of

anything else after that, actually. But I wasn’t into student government or

anything at that time. If anything else had happened, I would have been in it. But,

nothing else happened. So it just kind of died, I think, just for, I don’t know

whether, just—I just don’t remember what, why it didn’t fly there. But here, just

going to a Mass Meeting—because at the time, I actually wasn’t living here. The

very first few Mass Meetings, I was living in Chicago at the time. But then, I came

here along the way, and I was so happy to be here. Because every time I’d hear

something about something going on down in Florida, I’d think, “That’s where I

should be.” I didn’t really like Chicago. It was just too big of a city. And I would

just think, “Man, I need to be home. I need to be home, I need to be down there

helping!” You know, that kind of thing. And the people I was around: “Oh, I’m so

glad I’m not down there, because I don’t want to take a chance on going to jail, or

getting hit, or all that kind of stuff, because I couldn’t do it!” You know, that kind of

thing. And that just used to grab me. So, when I did come back home, I was very

happy to be here, and to get involved, from Mass Meetings, to picketing; those

kinds of things.


M: Just to backtrack a little—quickly, because I have more questions about that

but— So, what was the feeling when Frank started—I guess the major thing in

Richmond was that demonstration downtown that they did, where he got arrested

and all that. How did your family react to that back here?

P: Again, it was kind of like the thing where it was, my mom was mad at him, but

then she was happy about them—

M: Same.

P: Same, basically, kind of thing, because the unhappy part was because, worrying

about his well-being. If something physical had happened, that kind of thing—as

it could well have been. And I know I, somewhere back, I started saying

something about Medgar Evers. I don’t know if I ever finished that sentence or

thought or not, about he had talked with him? I know, because I jumped about

the things, my niece has them. But, in his journal—he kept journals, and he had a

note in there where he and Medgar had been. So, they were friends. But, back to

that—that was the main concern, about his well-being. Other than that, having

very prayerful parents, they just prayed about it, and just that, you know, if that’s

what God has in his plans for him; and so, that’s it. They would leave it with God.

But my mother wasn’t a real—she didn’t show her worrying side. And all we saw

was little old strong woman, that everybody called on. In fact, earlier today, I

thought, “Man, I laugh sometimes about, the older I get, people say more I look

like my mother.” I said, “I’m going to be like her more and more, a lot of other

ways.” People call me for information. People were always calling her for

something. She was always taking somebody somewhere, always doing


something for somebody. And I’m sure, probably, if I could be behind the wheel

of a car right now, I’d probably be going someplace. We might not have called up

when we did—doing something for somebody. But—call this morning: “You

know, I’m trying to find So-and-so and So-and-so. Do you have an idea how, or

where, or what her name is?” You know, all these kinds of things, and so forth.

So, I think my parents were just born for public service. I think that’s a good way

to put it. Because that’s what they did. From near neighbors, to far and wide, they

were always doing something for somebody. Always. And not necessarily

church-connected, you know?

M: Just generally.

P: Just generally. Didn’t matter the color, or how much you had—in fact, sometimes

that didn’t help, if you had a lot.

D: If you had something. [Laughter]

P: But, they weren’t pushovers or anything like that. But, they were just real

thoughtful people, who just looked at taking care of people as being part of that

job.

M: Leaders in their own right, is what it sounds like.

P: Yes, yes. My—I was married to Dr. Haile, and he used to say my mom should be

called the mayor of Silver Springs in Ocala. If there’s anything anybody want,

they call Ms. Pinkston. [Laughter]

M: And by the way, we’ve been going for a little while. Did you need to take a break

or anything?

P: Oh I’m okay. Agnes, would you mind getting me a little cranberry juice please?


X: Mmhm.

P: That’s all. No, you know what? Agnes? Just make it some plain water.

X: Plain water, you sure?

P: Mmhm. Yeah, with a couple of cubes in it?

X: Don’t you think you might need the cranberry juice?

P: That’s about my second glass today. I drink enough of that stuff, I’m going to look

like a cranberry! [Laughter]

M: It’s good for you.

P: Yeah. Yeah. By the way, I have multiple sclerosis, and rheumatoid and

osteoarthritis.

M: Oh wow, you got the whole package.

P: Yes. I was diagnosed back 2001 with MS, and then 2002 with arthritises, both of

those. Doctor said, “You know you’re fortunate enough, you’re one of those

people who don’t usually have but one at a time, but you’ve got two of them. Two

arthritises, and it’s about five ones that people know about. But he said, these

two are the most common—the rheumatic and osteo-, you got them both.

Verifiable, you know, through lab work, and all that kind of stuff and so forth. I’ve

been bed-bound in my life, but I was still at a point that I didn’t have very much

time—thank you, ma’am [as Agnes hands her the glass]—and this lady’s been

with me all the way, because we were friends long before I ever got to that point.

And then, I manage to get around. So, I’m really blessed. And I’m thankful.

Because I’ll tell you, the way I think sometimes, I guess I needed a little slowing

down or something. But I have lots of ideas that I would—as far as our


community stance, as far as Civil Rights goes and so forth… But, that’s another

story. So I won’t get into that one.

M: Maybe another time.

P: Yeah, another time.

M: Well, so maybe that’s a good segway to—what was it like when Frank came

home from college? Because he came home, from what I read, in [19]61 or early

[19]60s, thereabouts. Were you still here then, or were you off at—?

P: I was here. Yes. I was still in high school. Yeah, I was telling the story about

Forest High being built, and so forth.

M: That’s right.

P: Yeah, I wanted him to—I just figured he would do it, so… [Laughter] But he said

the time wasn’t right. Knowing him, it wasn’t the right time. There’s a time for

everything, so…

M: Well, so do you remember him starting to organize that earlier, or was that kind

of a gradual thing?

P: I know in high school, kids were always talking to him about things. And then, he

was here my senior year in high school. And then, I left and went off to college.

And then in the meantime, things were starting to take place—I guess the

developing of it and so forth. But when I came back, things were all well—I came

back that next, late spring—were well into the swing of things. Marches were

already going on and so forth, when I came back. But talking to him over the

phone, I knew before they ever started that it was coming soon, just from our little

conversations and so forth. We would talk about things that happened that


shouldn’t have happened, and those kinds of things. Like, things downtown and

in the community and so forth. He always had his eyes and ears open. Always

watching, and listening, just waiting for the opportune time or whatever. I don’t

know what the exact thing was that finally made him say, “Okay, let’s move into

action.” That I don’t know. It could be in one of those journals or something. I just

happen to have thumbed through enough to have seen that section about

Medgar Evers and a couple of other things. But it could be in those journals. I

hope my niece still has them. So I don’t know what the exact thing was that did

make him go ahead and move. But Dorsey might would know, and there’s

another fellow, David Rackard. Because Dorsey was away in college, too, but I

think David was here. And David lives in Tallahassee. And there is also—have

you spoken with Charles Washington?

M: No, I don’t believe so.

P: Oh, Charles was—Charles would be a good person, because he was another

like Dana. Frank would either call on Charles or Dana. Charles would know.

Charles was a student at the community college here. Charles isn’t from Ocala,

but he came to Ocala to attend the community college here—the junior college,

as we called it at that time. And you know, Dana is dead so… but we stayed until

the [inaudible 1:28:55] very long time. He still will come back to visit periodically.

For quite some time, yes.

D: Can you tell us a little bit more about Dana?

P: About Dana?

D: Yeah, what was his story?


P: Well, except for, at one point,I think because my husband was away, people

thought Dana and I were married. [Laughter] Yeah, because, I mean, it was

almost like you saw one of us, you saw the other one. But he was just being a big

brother to me, just being helpful. Because I think maybe I might have been

pregnant with the second child by then or something. And then, with them not

seeing my husband that much, a lot of people didn’t know when they saw him.

So, here’s a male, there’s a—must be him! Except for, you know, basically, the

Black community knew I was married to a Black man. But Dana and my mother

just loved each other. He was a real son for her. I do recall a particular incident,

and it had to do with him being at our house. And word was that they wanted that

White boy out of that house, he didn’t have any business with…

X: With those n-people.

P: Yes. And so, I was here that day. I remember, I was praying with Bruce. These

two guys came to the house. Two White guys. And Momma, Dana, and I were in

the house. She had a habit that she had developed—it used to be a thing that the

door was always open. You know, like, open wide, that kind of thing. Physically

open. We out in the country, you never had to worry about anybody and that kind

of thing. So anyhow, she had developed the habit of keeping the door closed, but

I think that was because of the Hunting and Fishing Club guys. Because it used

to be that there was somebody there 24 hours a day, from the Hunting and

Fishing Club. But, for whatever reason, it was nobody there that day. But—or

was it? I could think back on it; Mose might recall the incident. But anyhow, these

two guys came to the door, and she stepped outside the door and got where it


used to be where you just welcomed people on in, but she got out of that habit,

too. She stepped outside, and Dana was behind her and I think I might have

been into soaps at that time, and sitting over the sofa watching T.V. And Dana

had a habit, you know, just because of ladies getting up to see to. She told Dana,

“Go to the back of the house.” You think about these things now, and I can

remember that just so very well. She’s telling him, “Go, Dana. Can you go back

there?” He had a room—my room was here, and then there was his bedroom.

She said, “You go back in there.” And so I guess maybe by that time, she could

see it was two White guys, and not anybody she knew, and they were dressed.

So, not like somebody on the street just passing by, looking for information or

that kind of thing and so forth—not the usual. But so, she closed the door, went

out and talked with them. But she was out there a very long time. And when she

came back in, she got right on the phone, and I know she was talking to Frank,

and then she talked to somebody else. I tell you, God has people in places for

you. This man died not too very long ago, but there was an FBI agent who was a

friend of his, he was a friend of Frank, a friend to Frank. And he kept Frank up

about a lot of stuff. Well, they talked, and I guess certain things were said about

who he thought those guys were, and they were up for no good. So if they had

seen Dana, it might have been over for Dana. But they didn’t try to come in or

anything like that. They must have—and maybe somebody was around or

something, and they changed their mind or whatever. But anyway, I know she

talked to them a long time. And I never heard her say what the conversation was


about, except for that it came out that they were up to no good. But Dana still

stayed there a long time, though.

X: It must have been harrowing to live under those circumstances all of the time.

P: Yes and no. Most of the time, you didn’t even really thing about it, as such. You

just had to go on with your life, you know? And the other thing is that, my own

niece and nephew, Frank’s kids, were in the house. They were, like, maybe 3

and 4 years old, 4 and 5, somewhere along about that age. They were not in

school yet. There were guns all over that house, all over it. Behind every door

was at least 4 or 5 guns. I mean, guns that would do damage. Those kids never

bothered those guns. But you got to start early respect about things, period. And

especially guns.

X: That’s true, most—at least in the South, they had guns. There was always a rifle

or shotgun behind the front door of every Black home that I know of. And the

children never touched the gun. You never saw or heard of a kid shooting

another kid.

P: Yeah. Because guns were for hunting, to get your food. That is was they were

for. You know, for shooting a stray animal and things like that and so forth, but

they never did. But of course, that was an unusual amount of guns to be around,

kind of thing. But there was never a problem with any of the kids, that were

passed away or anything like that. Or anybody. But they were there readily, so

if men were in the house or whatever, or wherever they were, you know, it’s right

there. Dana worked at University of Florida, at Shands, for a long time afterwards

in the healthcare area, administrative-type stuff. His family originally was from up


north, but then they moved down somewhere in Lakeland area somewhere, in

that part of the state. I have his obit. Some of my stuff already around in this

area, I can pull that up, too, by the time you come back again.

M: Okay. That sounds good.

D: Do you know how his family and friends felt about him living there, and all the

stuff he was involved in?

P: Not, they weren’t particularly happy about it. And that was one of the reasons he

was there. Because, after a while, he didn’t have a place to go. I was saying

earlier, that happened to some other kids who were from Ocala, whose parents

were prominent, and they decided to take parts in things here, and they got

ultimatums: “You get out of this family, or you don’t do that.” And I can remember

one night at a Mass Meeting, there was a young man whose family was a very

prominent family, and he chose to stay involved with the Civil Rights. And there

was another family, their last name was Coy. They used to live right there behind

the church, and he stayed with them for a while. I don’t know whatever happened

to him, but I can remember because the lady had been their maid. But at least he

knew he had somebody he could go to.

D: So the Mass Meetings tended to be, there was a small population of White

students, and other people that would be there as well?

P: Yes, mmhm. Lot of students from UF.

D: They would drive down from UF or something?

P: Uh-huh. And that—

D: Newspaper?


P: Yeah, the newspaper over there. Dan [Harmeling] put that together, but they

came down—we had a little acknowledgement for their fiftieth year of being

arrested, earlier this year at the church during Black History Month. And they

were telling the story about how the Hunting and Fishing Club used to escort

them back up Gainesville, or at least to a county line and that kind of thing.

Watched out for their safety as well, too.

M: Really well-organized—or it sounds that way.

P: Yes. Yes, it was. And it was quite a few men, and it was two ladies who were

members.

M: Oh yeah?

P: Yeah. They said they had ladies so in the church, they could have something

handy in their pocket books. [Laughter] Miriam Hampton and a lady that my

oldest brother used to date. Her name was Lucile.

M: Wait, so Miriam Hampton, is she the same—

P: Dr. Hampton’s wife.

M: Well and she was one of the monitors, sometimes for the picketing I think? I

thought I remembered a story or two…

P: She might have been, I don’t recall. I just know they were after her. That family,

sometimes, too, because Dr. Hampton was pretty vocal.

M: Okay.

P: He was a dentist here. In fact, their house did get shot into, because they wasn’t

expect—well, you don’t expect things like that, but us, yes. But it wasn’t expected

of anybody else. I guess they had to get to somebody, and their house was right


on Broadway. When you’re coming off of I-75, there is—what’s the service

station where the car is on top of the building?

X: Sunoco.

P: Sunoco? When you’re right at that intersection there, there’s a meat market in

the southeast corner, across from the service station. And the very next building

there is a house, a long little house, and that’s where Dr. Hampton lived. Of

course at that time it was a just a two-lane on state road 40. It wasn’t much out

that way, so they were easy targets. For instance, us—you had to be looking for

us. So if you went back up there, you knew what you were doing out there.

Because there were only—

X: Even now, it’s a real automobile won’t be comfortable on that little dirt lane.

P: No, we got stuck—Fred, I don’t know if I told you, we got stuck at, after Mattie’s

funeral. We got stuck. One of those sandy dirt roads. But right now, where my

parents house is, that little part is paved for about 10 feet. [Laughter]

D: Is the property still in the family?

P: Yes. Mmhm.

D: Is there any family living on it now, or it’s just—?

P: Yes, there’s someone lives in there, mmhm. One of my sister-in-laws has a

nephew who lives it right now. Yeah, it’s still there. That little bookstand right

there? My dad made that as they were building the house. Because they had to

have something—we didn’t have a lot of books, but that was something he made.

I will always keep that. So, it was made between 1936 and [19]38. They started

building on the house on [19]36, the year Frank was born, and then they finished


the house and moved into it in [19]38, the year Alfred was born; so somewhere in

there, he said that he made it.

X: Well, you probably couldn’t get but two Bibles in there! [Laughter]

P: And it might’ve been only had a Bible, at that time! Yeah, that’s why I was saying,

they didn’t have very many books at that time, you know?

X: Yeah, but you know, he had lots and lots and lots and lo-o-ots of books.

P: The number of books he had, and what he gave away, and what walked away…

He was a big believer in people getting their education, and so forth. Especially

ministers being trained. When he would go ordain young ministers—and it’s

typical, in the Black Baptist church, that a collection is taken and given to, is

given to that minister. And he would always tell them, “Make the first things you

get out of this money are some books, something that’s going to help you in

being a minister, being a pastor, being a leader,” those kinds. He had that little

speech that he would go through, and so forth; what you should do with what that

money. Wasn’t for vacation or any of that kind of thing, and so forth, it’s for you to

learn something. So, they were big book people.

M: What kind of a—I mean, people have talked about Frank as a speaker. What

kind of speaker was your father? Did he have that same kind of impassioned

style, or—?

P: He did, he did. Only, I don’t know what would be—the main difference is that, I

guess, Daddy, probably, even though he had a lot of stories that he told in his

messages, I think most of it still stuck more with things from the actual Bible. But

a lot of things he did use, that were things that happened daily in your walk.


Frank’s was a lot of Bible, but a lot of things, current issues built into it. But he

made it come together, to show you what was said in the Bible still affected what

was going on right then.

M: Did he ever talk much about any of his mentors at Virginia Union?

P: Yeah. Now I have to ask my brother Fred. I can remember one name right now,

although I know that’s not the only one, because some of them came down here

and spoke at Covenant. But then some spoke when he was pastoring Mount

Moriah, too. I can remember hearing them. That will be a question I will ask my

brother Fred.

M: Okay.

P: For future reference, names of some of those people, I know a number of them

have passed on, now, but still, there were—and I remember meeting them, as

well. Of course, a lot of professors, you know, might be ministers; they weren’t

necessarily good speakers. [Laughter] Oh! But the ones I heard were. They

were, very—you could understand, if somebody’s sitting in your class, that you

would get something from this person, just because, the way they present things,

their enthusiasm and passion for it, and how they present it, and all those kinds

of things. I go, “I could hear him again!” You know? So, the ones I heard, they

were like that.

D: Do remember Zev Aelony, when he came?

P: I never met Zev, but I know the name. I used to hear Zev’ name when I was in

Chicago.

D: What kind of work was he associated with?


P: All I know is with the Civil Rights movement. That was what I knew his name

from. From St. Augustine, and from someplace else, too. And I think Zev might

have been over in Dunellon with Pat Due? Pat Stephens? You know, her

husband might would know Zev. And I know Frank used to talk to him. You know,

there are names that I know because of sometimes hearing him talk, and then

from him talking to me about different things, and seeing different people’s

names.

M: That makes sense. Well Zev Aelony was also the guy who was arrested, that

was the reason they occupied the jail. Were you involved with that at all?

P: No, I wasn’t here then.

M: Okay.

P: No. Because I would have met him. But I never did. No, and I wasn’t here when

the first people got jailed. Yeah, that was the kind of things that we would hear on

the radio.

D: So they would broadcast stuff on the radio?

P: On the radio, yeah. On national news up there. Yes.

D: Were there a lot of Floridians there? Or it just reached national attention?

P: I think it was just national news. There were a couple of stations that I found that

had national news on it, and I knew there would be something every now and

then about Florida on there, so I would always listen on the radio. I always had

my radio onto either one of those stations. And that was how I—and then, don’t

touch my radio! [Laughter] Don’t touch it! Because you’re going to turn to

something I don’t want to hear in the first place, and then nextly, I want to hear


what’s going on, from things around the world, and the nation, and that kind of

thing. Some people’d have it on for the kinds of music that they listened to.

Which, that’s all well and good, but, you know—and I know it because my

parents, and especially my mother, every night: you’re going to hear the news,

you’re going to pay attention to what’s going on, and elections, and all this kind of

stuff, and so forth. That’s like my—I have a daughter who lives here, my oldest

child is a daughter, and she has three sons that—that’s her oldest boy, Barry,

over there. But anyway, the middle son, we were talking the other day, and we

were talking about the election and stuff coming up now, and I could never in my

mind—I thought, you know what? I don’t remember Malcolm saying anything

about voting or anything. So I said, “Malcolm.” I said, “Are you registered to

vote?” “I don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know? I know you know

whether you registered or not. And I know, if you’re Anita’s child, you got to be

registered!” Because he is 19. So he said, “Well, I think I am.” I said, “Well, did

you vote in the last election?” He said, “No, because I wasn’t quite old”—he just

missed it, his birthday is in December. So anyhow, I asked Anita just yesterday, I

said, “Malcolm talking about he’s not sure if he’s registered or not.” She said,

“Momma, you know Malcolm in registered. If you made me leave school, come

from school, you and Grandma, and I was having”—she was having her period—

“and I was having bad cramps, and y’all take me there first before I could even

go home, you know I would make them register on their birthday!” That’s

generally when we would take family members down, on their birthday, to

register.


X: It was a requirement of driving in my house. If you wanted to drive, you had to be

registered to vote. And if you did not vote, you lost your driving privileges. As

simple as that.

P: Yeah well, if you came up in the Pinkston household, you had to be registered.

That was certain. So, it has carried over. Because, like my daughter said, yeah, I

took her… And I forgot what tale Hoose tells about me making him go down to

sign up.

X: I even got Riley, my youngest daughter, lives in New Orleans, and she’s been

pounding the pavement in New Orleans!

[Interruption in interview]

M: I actually lost the exact train we were on, but we can figure it out.

D: I had a general question. One thing we’ve been trying to figure out is kind of how

these towns in Florida developed, especially the Black towns. Because a lot of

them, it seems, went big during certain times over the course of 100 years, and

some of them became smaller. So I was wondering, what do you think it was that

made Ocala such a prominent African American town, prominent Black town in

Florida?

P: I don’t know, because almost every little Black town had their own little business

sections and so forth. And then, of course, when the banks went belly-up as they

said way back when, that kind of helped break the Black community here. And I

think it just never recovered. Sort of like things here in these last few years. But I

don’t think people looked at Ocala—I don’t think people look at Ocala anymore

as a place you—because there was Paradise Park. And even though it may not


seem like much, but that was a thing. People would come to Ocala and go to

Paradise Park. And I guess, I mean, if you live a place where something is, you

don’t see it as great as other people thought. Because Ocala was a place to

come to, that kind of thing. But I had cousins who lived in Miami. They couldn’t

wait to get up here! So I thought, “Goodness! Living in Miami, you couldn’t wait to

get to Ocala?” [Laughter] But over on the west side, we did have a—there

eventually was another little soda shop, but it was a just a soda shop, and a little

place to dance. Now, we didn’t have any dancing at the drugstore, but there was

a little soda shop with dancing and so forth over on the west side for a good

while. But we don’t have it in Ocala like we used to. We really don’t. And to me

it’s very sad, because we were in a very promising place. And it just seemed

something came along here in the [19]80s, late [19]70s, [19]80s, that people just

sort of lost interest and just weren’t as—and some of it was after integration. And,

you know, anything worth having, you got to keep working at it. And a lot of

people seemed to have—and so it seemed, a lot of people seemed to have

thought that, “Oh, we’ve arrived, and we don’t have to do anything else

anymore.” I saw it on both sides of the track. But it was sort of like establishment

Ocala didn’t want anything else coming into Ocala. It’s just now that it’s starting

to get some growth again. Because sometimes I think, what is it in Ocala that’s

bringing these people here? Even in these last few years—but because it has

been supposedly one of the cheaper places in the state to live, but I don’t know

about that. And it just seemed like people just lost interest in a lot of things, and

there’s certainly not a lot of—no professional work. My son is a good example,


something that happened here in the last few months. He’s been living in Atlanta

for the last several years. He was a car salesmen, who at one point was on his

way to medical school. Had family, had kids that were in college, and so, now

he’s trying to get back there. But nevertheless, he’s been doing that kind of work

for the longest time. So, he needed to take a break, so he came here. And so he

decided, he’d work for a while, but he had some medical issues, and he was

going to the VA, and they said “Well, we want to train you to do something else.”

But the quickest work he could find was as used car salesmen again. So he went

to a dealership here out 200 there, and he started selling cars right and left.

People who’d been there for some time were not, and so he got to a point where

one of the managers was following him around. But he said he just wanted to

observe and see what he was doing, why is he selling and other people are not?

But my son said that the only thing was that he would interrupt when he’s trying

to tell a customer something, and to him it was distracting. And he said he lost a

couple of sales that way, because you cut into things, and “Why you asking me

this,” and all these other kinds of things that’s not important to the customer, are

not things we should be talking about in front of the customer, and so forth. And

he gave an example of, he told me he hoped learned something. But he said, “I

don’t have to tell you every little thing I’m doing.” But, then, he said, “ I’m not

doing anything that I should not be doing. I’m giving them information you give

me about the car, and I’m showing it to them,” and so on and so forth. A little

couple came in—and he didn’t know it, had been in a couple times before. And

they were there. When he heard the story about it, he was told that they been


there all day and never bought a car, just using up people’s time. Well, he didn’t

know this, but he went ahead and started talking to them. And in short time, they

were buying a car. So that did it, the guy called him and said, “Well, what did you

do that they bought this car from you, and they’ve been in here?” And then that’s

when he finds the story about, they been in there all this time before, and so

forth. So, he told him what he did. The guy said, “I’ll tell you what: that’s not the

way we do things, and we want you to do them our way.” So he said it just didn’t

make sense, and he just could not see it. So he said the guy told him, “You know

what? Give it a couple of weeks and think on it.” At the end of the two weeks,

then come back, and let us know what your decision is. So my son said, “No, I

don’t think I want to be bothered with this, period. This is too”—he just told them

that day, he won’t come back. So somebody told him later, said you know, he

was only the second Black person ever hired in the place, been there for eons.

So we have gotten back to that one Black person kind of thing in Ocala, it seems.

Because you walk into a business place, you look around. Black folks don’t do

folk business in here; nobody in here! It looks that kind of way. And so, I’m

thinking, you know, have we gone back to that again?

X: They would rather not sell the car and make a profit, than to—it makes no sense.

D: Mmhm.

P: Oh he’s getting called right now from Atlanta to come. He’s got a call from

somebody for a Mercedes place. He’s trying to get out of something from being

on his feet all day, and I can see that he has some trouble in his legs and stuff,

too. He’s had surgery on them, and that kind of thing. And I thought about that, I


said, “You know what? I’ve only ever heard of one Black person in this thing, one

Black person in there, and that kind of thing. And it seems like we’re going to only

one Black at a time kind of thing. So, we’re not progressing like we once were

here. And now, right now, I am not a member of any organization, as such, like

the NAACP. I do have some issues with the people who are in leadership. And

so, I think for right now, because I never really had a real sit-down conversation

with them about it, but, based on some things that I know has happened, I just I

haven’t had the energy and I can’t afford right now to—I’m not in a comfortable

place, health-wise, to put up that kind of fight that needs to be put up to get

things where I think they should be.

D: Were there other prominent organizations in Ocala around that time? I know

NAACP was very large and very active over there. Or CORE—

P: Not really, almost everything was dead.

D: Did SNCC ever come through?

P: Not really. You know there were some kids who’d belong to other places, but still

that was like only summertime, when they were home from school, kind of thing.

And then, they didn’t come back to stay in Ocala so—

X: What was the original question?

D: Oh my question? Oh, I’m sorry! [Laughter] I was just wondering why you thought

that Ocala became so prominent by the [1960]s, and then perhaps why kind of

fizzled out in terms of the Black population, and being such a prominent Black

town in the [19]80s and [19]90s?


P: Those opportunities just aren’t here anymore, and the young Black folks—like

that, they aren’t gonna take that!

X: Yeah, it’s like Ocala was the only quote-unquote ‘city’ in Marion County, a county

that’s, by history, heavily agricultural. And therefore, because so heavily

agricultural, it had a large Black population. You need somebody to pick the

tomatoes, and the beans, and the peanutsm and the whatever else, you know,

that you got growing. In Marion County, other than Ocala, that’s what you have:

farms—or you did have back then, was farms, some of them owned by Black

people. Most of them owned by Black people. Three, four, five hundred acres of

land, until horse people from the north came down and bought these poor,

uneducated people’s land for nothing, and put horses on it, and called them

horse farms! I’m sorry, that’s basically what happened.

P: The other thing, too, though, was turned around, or made a difference; I thought

of something, because I was thinking about it from a professional standpoint.

Other than teachers, it’s no place for young Blacks, especially, who are looking

for a place to raise a family and that kind of thing. I remember an incident that

happened when one of the hospitals that’s now called Ocala Regional was called

Marion Community, and it was at a time—it was an HCA hospital. They were

starting to recruit physicians from other places. Well, a young fellow and his wife

came to interview—and the HCA was big on recruiting. They came to Ocala to

interview with the hospital administrator. They were coming from Tennessee. He

had been out of med school for a while. He had done all of his necessary stuff

and so forth, and practiced for a little bit. And so, this would have been a good


place to really go on out on your own, and that kind of thing. He was a

nephrologist. Anyway—a kidney doctor. So this was before Ford and them ever

came along, of course. Well, the administrator—because I was, at the time,

again, the only head Black nurse, and because we would be interacting, they

invited me to come down, have dinner with them, and that kind of thing and so

forth—with the administrator, and the doctor and his wife, and a couple of other

head honchos from around the hospital. But anyway, after the others left, and we

were—the couple and I—were sitting around talking, and they were asking me

about Ocala and so forth. Well, the other guy finally said, he said, “You know, I

really like the administrator here, and the people that I’ve met in this hospital, but

I doubt we’ll be coming back.” And he said, “I’m going to tell you why.” He said

the two main hospitals--which still are the same two main hospitals—were right

across the street from each other. They accidentally went into the other hospital

first. Dyer was the administrator at that time. So, they go to the administrator’s

office, and the guy—If he didn’t remember the name offhand, but he had it on his

little appointment card in his pocket and that kind of thing. So, when he went in,

he just asked for the administrator of the hospital’s office, not by name or

anything. But he was pulling it out when he was led into his office, and just about

that time he realized that was not the same name that was on his card. But,

before he could say anything, the person who took him to the office told him “This

is doctor So-and-so looking for you,” and so on and so forth, that kind of thing. So

no names were exchanged, but before he could say anything, the administrator

of the hospital said, “I don’t have an appointment with him or anybody else this


afternoon.” And so, the guy started to tell him, “I’m sorry, I realize I have made a

mistake, and that it’s apparently the hospital across the street there that I

noticed.” And he said that the guy was so unkind to him, and so rude—and if you

knew the guy, you know he could be that way. I don’t know Dyer was ever, if you

ever had any contact with Dyer, but I did. I couldn’t stand him.

X: Yeah. No, not many people could.

P: And I don’t say that about people very often, but I have some personal contact—

my husband, I was married to a physician. And we had some interaction. But at

any rate, I could believe what the guy said, because of what the guy said in my

presence. Being a female, and a nurse—and he knew of course, that I was a

female, but I don’t know if he realized I was nurse or not. But I know he did,

because we had met before. And my husband was one of the only few Blacks at

the time here, and so forth, and so the hospital was always having something

that we were at. So I knew he knew me. But anyway, I could believe that he said

to him what he said to him. So he said—and he would have been the first

nephrologist here, and that kind of thing. He knew it would be patients in both

hospitals. He couldn’t with him. “What, are you going to do me like that?” Do you

want to hang around?

M: Not so much, no.

P: No. And that happens a lot of times and places. You get that kind of attitude from

that person who you’re going to be working for, and no, you don’t particularly

want to work with somebody like that. So, it might be a good time otherwise, but

if I’ve got to work under those kind of conditions, then no. You know, I’ll go


ahead, and in this case I have to accept what I would call the next best place,

versus what I thought was the best place. That was number one on the list. But

I’m sure that happened more than one time. Not just there, but in other instances,

other business and stuff. So that’s one reason why young people, that they don’t

want to come back to Ocala—still not a lot of them do, who are doing things. So

that’s one of the things that’s led to the downfall of us not being in quite the—

X: If you want to make a living, if you invest a lot of time and money in an education,

you want to at least be able to make a living at what you do. You don’t have to be

a Jay-Z, you don’t have to make all the money in the world, but you want a

decent house, you want your kids to be able to go to decent schools, etc. etc.

You want the same things out of life that everybody else want out of life, and

that’s a hindrance. My children will never come back here to live. That’s why I’m

moving to Virginia: my children won’t come back here to live, you know? My

daughter is the one that one that I’m going to be moving in with. She just

completed her masters at George Washington University and [inaudible 2:12:52]

engineering degree. But what she’s done for the last 26 years is educate herself

and [inaudible 2:13:05] You know. So she works for Homeland Security. There’s

no way that she can make the kind of living that she wants to make in any city in

Florida. None! I’ll take the cold so that she can, she is eventually going to—and

this is terrible to say this—she’s eventually going to come back home to Florida.

Not Ocala, but she’s going to eventually come back to Florida to live, at a point

when she can relax, and earn the little bit of money that she’s going to get in

Florida and still maintain a decent living. So, that’s the reason. People don’t


come back here to live. And the people that are here, living—a friend of mine

once told me that Saint Petersburg was known as God’s waiting room, but I beg

to differ. I think it’s Ocala that’s God’s waiting room! [Laughter]

P: Well, you know what? There was a urologist came here one time, he worked

here for a year. I forgot where he was from, someplace up north. When he found

out more about Florida than what he thought he did, he went down Tampa Bay

area and so forth. He said, “Hey, I’m moving down there, because that’s where

the money is!” And he did. I mean, he was out of here in no time. This has been

like 20 years ago or so, and it might’ve been more than that. But anyway, at that

particular time anyway, that’s where it is—being a urologist? “All them old folks

down there while I’m living up here? Heck!”

D: Yeah we always wondered about that because, it seems like part of what drew

Blacks to Gainesville was the fact that they had Lincoln High at a time when a lot

of Blacks towns didn’t have high schools that went to twelve. And it seemed like

Ocala had a similar situation with Howard Academy and Fessenden.

X: An appropriate saying, Ocala: I used to call it “Geriatric City,” but now I’m one of

those geriatric people. But it is going to be much more of a geriatric town,

because young people cannot make a living. When I came here initially, I was

shocked at the wages that were being paid for professionals here. I couldn’t

believe it, you know? And I was equally shocked that everybody was so

lackadaisical about it when I came here. That same hospital across the street,

that she was saying that [inaudible 2:16:50] so offended the young urologist. And

I walked in, and I applied for a position. And I was hired right away, you know,


because of my credentials. And then they—the first day of orientation, we hadn’t

discussed salary, but I had put down what my expectations were. And I assumed

that that was going to be where we were going to start. And the young lady

walked to me, and she had this little slip of paper, and she put it in front of me

and she says, “We expect to see you da-da-da-da-da, and this is your starting

salary.” And I looked at that little piece of paper, and it wasn’t even a post-it note.

It was just a little— [Laughter] And I said, “I need to speak with the director in

person.” So then I walked in her, and I handed her that little piece of paper that

they had given me and I said, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t work for my mother for this!”

[Laughter] And I handed it back to her, and I was saying, you guys [inaudible

2:18:22]. And she said, “But that’s our starting salary!” And I said, “But I have X X

X, and X X X, and X X X.” And so she said, “Well, I’ll see what I can do. What

would you start at?” And I said, “The same figure that I put down there.”

[Laughter] And you know she said, “I’ll be back.” And unfortunately, that’s what

had been accepted. Nobody said no. They just took, this is what they said they’ll

start me at. She came back with an acceptance of, “Well, it’s going to be tough

selling but—you know, those kinds of things happened, and I was told by many

nurses here that, “Why—you making more than So-and-so and So-and-so who

has been here for so-and so and so-and-so.” “I’m sorry about that but I did

negotiate. Your salary didn’t.”

D: Did you all have unions in Ocala?

P: Did we have what?

D: Did you all have a nurses’ union?


X: Oh no, that’s a hateful word!

P: That was a dirty word!

D: Oh, I’m sorry! [Laughter]

P: It’s still a dirty word in Ocala for a lot of things, yes. I think the teachers and who

else? The teachers and—who else has gotten by with it? Maybe only one or two

other groups have gotten by using that word, being able to have that word out

there for them.

X: And that’s pretty much in the South, not just in Florida. That’s pretty much a

Southern thing.

P: Yeah, no, I didn’t join one, I don’t think…

D: Because I know one of Coretta Scott King’s biggest—she was around the whole

nursing union movement after Martin Luther King passed.

P: Mmhm.

X: Well that’s why Hillary thought that nurses started out at a $70,000-a-year salary,

when she was trying so hard to make an Affordable Care Act when Bill was

president. She got her facts a little screwed up, but… [Laughter] Now that the

Affordable Care Act has been a law, enacted as a law, we’re still right where we

were 10 years ago. I think it’s going to be interesting seeing how this takes

shape. I’ll stop—I’ve been talking, I’ll zip my lips! [Laughter]

M: So we were. If we take it back to the [19]60s, in—wherever that book got to. He’s

got—I mean, I don’t need it, I was just going to refer to it, but, the appendix. One

of the appendices is one of Frank’s speeches that he gave at the state NAACP

conference, and he mentions a White Citizens’ Council. But he said—I mean, it


sounds like it was sort of related to say, the Klan or other things, but it was, it

sound like it was a more—

P: It was an uptown version of the Ku Klux Klan.

M: Do you remember much about that that you could—?

P: Not a whole lot, except for, like I said, it was an uptown version of the Ku Klux

Klan. Because they controlled things.

M: The money kinds of things I guess, right?

P: The money, and all the political things and so forth, yes. Anything that looked like

it was going to involve somebody from downtown or something, they were going

to have last word on it. You know, it went pretty much the way—they were the

good ol’—the good ol’ boys, just uptown, basically. Old establishment Ocala.

M: Did that kind of peter out, or did it sort of—what happened to it?

P: You know what? Sometimes, I wonder. Honestly. I was just talking with

somebody about that the other day. I was saying that, you know, it seemed to me

that good ol’ Ocala is still alive and well. I am trying to remember what the

occasion was when that subject came up. It was just last week. I don’t know if I

can think of who it was I was talking to, but anyway, just because of sometimes

the ways that seem to be standing—well I might have heard another incident

about somebody trying to do something, and their, it was something that

reflected the good ol’ establishment would have done things. And so, I think it

probably had to do with something I saw in the newspaper. I’m good at reading

the letters to the editor, the editorials, and all that kind of stuff and so forth. I’m

sure that was where it came from, what stemmed it. Just the way you see things


happen. So. But I do believe that it is there somehow. Some way, it is still in

existence. My personal belief.

M: I mean, that sounds consistent. Those are the people who can operate out of

sight, so you never really see it.

P: That’s right.

M: You see the effects, and that’s—

P: Yeah. They’re still controlling.

M: Another thing he mentioned in that speech was, I don’t remember if I’m getting

the words right, but Selective Buying Program or something? Was there some

kind of boycotting thing going on?

P: That was some of that “downtown Ocala” business. [Laughter]

M: Okay.

P: Yes, it was. That was a boycott for quite some time. It was effective. And they

used to say that downtown Ocala never been the same since. I mean, there were

some nice stores down there. I know—and a few years later, the movement was

toward malls and stuff. But before the malls came—because people started

going to Gainesville, shopping there and any other place, except for downtown

Ocala. And so, it was felt. Greatly felt, yes. Shops closed. And they didn’t move

from the downtown to the mall, they closed. They were closed before the mall

came.

M: How did he organize that? Or was he the organizer?


P: It was part of the plans for the NAACP. They have everything all planned out and

so forth. He was a great organizer/planner, that kind of thing. And so, that was

just some of the things that was on the list to do.

D: Did you all have a youth branch of the NAACP as well?

P: Yes. Mmhm.

D: And you all mostly just tagged on to the main, or did you have your own

programs as well?

P: You know what? Basically, it started with the youth, and then the adults tagged

on. That was really the way it happened. But the name Charles Washington that I

mentioned a while back?

D: Yeah. At the community college?

P: That he went to community college? Mmhm. Charles and Dorsey, and the other

guy, David Rackard—they were youth leaders. And another young fellow, but I

don’t know where he is. I haven’t heard of him in quite a while. Herbert

Jameson. But I have Charles’ number. Would you all like to—now, Charles lives

in Atlanta.

M: Okay.

D: That’s fine.

M: Sometimes we travel or might have occasion to do it.

P: He’s there, my brother Fred is there, who was Frank’s buddy and partner and all

that kind of stuff.

M: Sounds like a reason for a road trip. I mean, not tomorrow but—

P: Somewhere down the line.


M: Because we’ve been told that there are also a lot of Ocalans who were living in

Fort Lauderdale, or still are. You think that—

P: Dorsey lives in Fort Lauderdale.

M: Or no, wait, maybe it was St. Petersburg.

P: Probably Fort Lauderdale.

M: Okay. I heard there were actually Ocala reunions and stuff down there—

P: Broward County, the Marion County Labor Day weekend is generally the

weekend is generally the weekend that they have their picnic and stuff, reunion

and so forth. Maybe they do it in St. Pete, too, but I know they do it in Broward

County.

M: No, I think I got my wires [crossed]—there was something else in St. Petersburg.

They both have—yeah, have something.

X: But if you’re going to do it, you’d better do it quickly, because we’re getting old.

We really are on God’s waiting list.

P: She usually talks about me getting old. Now, this is rare, here: her talking about

getting old. I’m 4 months older than she is, but she’s young forever. But I’m the

one who’s getting old! [Laughter] Except for today. Wow. I should rejoice.

X: Be nice, be nice.

P: Oh, my!

M: That is the tough part of this kind of research, is no one ever gets any younger,

so you’ve got to—always got to try to get out there to talk to people. But, yeah.

X: You know, I’m looking here, and I’m seeing things that I haven’t heard of in such

a long, long time. Pittsburgh Courier, and—


M: Was there a Black newspaper that your parents received when you were growing

up?

P: The Pittsburgh Courier.

M: They got the Courier?

P: Yeah, and we sold it at the drug store, too. Yep. And there was a another paper

too.

M: The Defender maybe? The Chicago Defender?

P: No we didn’t get it here.

M: Okay.

X: When did they merge the Sentinel and the Bulletin? Because at one time, it was

just the Sentinel, and at that time it was just the Florida Bulletin. And they went,

somewhere along the line, it became the Sentinel-Bulletin.

M: We can look that up.

P: Well, this is—oh! I wasn’t even thinking about this painting—now, this is a college

picture from Frank. I need to have this laminated.

M: Oh, wow.

P: That’s Frank right there. But this was when he made something at Union.

M: We can try to scan that for you at some point. I don’t have anything to do it with

right now.

P: I’ll just take it over to Staples and get it there.

D: What’s the newspaper?

P: That’s what I was trying to find, the name of the—I knew it wasn’t the Pittsburgh

Courier paper. I knew it was something, I’m just unfamiliar with it. This is from


some place in Virginia or D.C. Oh, I’ll just ask my brother Fred where this paper

was from. I was going through some things not too long ago, and I kept it out to

show him when he came through here. And I put it there, that way I knew I’d put

my hands back on it.

M: So you read the Courier regularly?

P: Oh, yes. There was an “Afro-” something, too.

D: Afro-American? That’s Baltimore.

P: But there was, it was a paper.

D: Yeah, that was the Baltimore paper, was the Afro-American. It was the longest-

running Black newspaper.

P: It would have been down here too?

D: I haven’t heard about that one traveling. I’ve heard of the Courier traveling, and

I’ve heard of the Defender traveling.

P: Yeah, but there were some things like that that we used to get here. Because we

used to get—like, a long time ago, Jet magazine and all those kind of things at

the drugstore. We used to get all kind of—

D: And Ebony?

P: Oh, yeah. We used to get all those kind of things. And Jive, and Bronze Thrills,

and— [Laughter] I don’t know if, you probably don’t even know what that’s about,

but it was kind of old love story magazines, that it was in the Black community.

Jive, Bronze—it was three of them.

X: I don’t know. I’m not as old as you are. [Laughter]


P: That’s right. And now it comes up. [Laughter] Yeah, Jive, Bronze Thrills, and

something. But anyway, that’s where you learned about love from, because you

didn’t learn it at home. You know, that kind of love.

M: Was it hard to get the Courier in? Was there ever any pressure against bringing it

into town?

P: Not that I know of. But that was, you know, it would have been like when I was in

high school.

X: And every family got the Courier. I don’t remember a single, solitary family that I

knew of that did not get the Courier. Everybody got the Pittsburgh Courier. You

had to read the paper!

P: Or the ones who didn’t, at least, they bought it from the Drugstore anyway. But

we sold—we were always out. Always ran out of it. But my uncle wasn’t going to

buy but so many of them, you know.

D: Were there a few prominent Black barbershops in the area as well?

P: A problem? For Black barbershops?

D: Any prominent?

P: Oh, prominent. Oh, yes. Yes, all up and down Broadway. Plenty, plenty. Plenty

up Broadway, and then the little dry goods stores and so forth. Almost every

other thing was a bar or a barber shop. Bar, barbershop. You know, they used to

have the little thing out front the barber shop, was it red and blue, or red and

white? It was something like that.

D: Red and white, yeah.

P: It would go around, around, around, spinning the little thing.


M: Oh yeah. I know what you’re talking about, yeah.

P: Now, it hasn’t been too long ago that they tore down some buildings off of

Broadway, and you would’ve seen those things still standing up there. Hanging

out there, I mean.

X: Right by where that Metro phone service is? There was a—

P: Oh, down there near Martin Luther King?

X: Yeah, it’s—yeah. Right next to Martin Luther King, you know, there was a little

restaurant there, and—

P: Yeah, they had one up there, uh-huh. But all uptown—well, not uptown, but you

know, up—on our side uptown, used to be bars and barbershops and little

restaurants.

M: Is that where everyone was on the weekends? I mean, was that the Saturday or

Friday night thing to do, was to go out there?

P: Especially on weekends, but it was always something going on all week long.

And it was busy! It was busy.

X: As far as going up—like, bars and stuff, there was a big nightclub here for

Blacks, in, like she’s saying, Chitlin’ Circuit. So there was always a lot of named

people coming through Ocala. You know.

P: B.B. King. James Brown.

X: Friday Group Band. Aretha Franklin.

P: Mmhm.

X: I mean, all of those people, you know.


P: The Franklins came even before they got off onto the rock and roll side of things,

when their father was a minister. And they used to come with him, singing gospel

sort of things.

M: What was the name of the Chitlin’ Circuit club or clubs? Were there a couple in

particular that usually—?

X: Club Bally.

P: Club Bally was the main, the big club that we’re talking about now. But even

before that, there was a little place that was called Blue Note, and, what was the

name place “flowers?”

X: I don’t remember but those two.

P: Yeah, there were some big jukes. Oh, gosh! I’ll have to think on that. And there

was a place called Buddy B’s.

X: I don’t remember that. Was that the Brown Derby?

P: No. Buddy B’s preceded the Brown Derby. Buddy B’s was over, the next block

over, like on Pine Street, from where the drug store was. Oh, I used to hate

Saturday nights at the drug store! [Laughter] I used to hate it! Because after

about 9 o’clock—and my uncle declared we would stay open ‘til midnight. And if

people started coming in, we were there ‘til they stopped coming in. All the

drunks, and trying to be drunk, and everything else along the way, would come in

there and order something, take all night to order it, take all night to eat it. But

then, you knew where the action was as far as cutting and shooting and stabbing

going on, because over in Buddy B’s, and someplace up the street there—we

could hear it from Buddy B’s. Because there’s just, it was like a block over. There


was the drug store, there was a big taxi stand right here across from the drug

store, and right behind the taxi stand was Buddy B’s. And the music was always

so loud, you could hardly—we played the juke box loud enough in the drug store.

But Buddy B’s drowned out the juke box! Oh, my gosh! And I know there were a

couple of guys who, every Saturday night, without fail—“Why am I here? I don’t

want to be in here when they come.” Because I mean—and a lot of times they’d

order a drink, and never drank it. It would just sit there on the counter. And sit

there. And they’d start talking, and they’d start nodding off. Then wake back up,

talk a little while longer. Play with the drink, start to drink it, and never make it.

[Laughter] Every Saturday night!

X: You had a steady job! [Laughter]

P: Had a job. And at that time, your pay went into the household.

M: Oh, yeah.

P: It wasn’t yours! Sure went to the household.

M: What was the policing like? Were there Black police who sort of worked in the—?

P: There were two Black police officers who worked the Black district. They couldn’t

really arrest anybody, but they were police officers. [Laughter] One guy was a big

guy, and the other guy was a thin guy. Smitty was the thin guy, and I can’t think

of the—B.F., or J.F., or something like that, the big guy. Smitty. Oh, gosh!

X: They didn’t arrest, but they were officially—were they official part of the police?

P: They were, yes. From downtown.

M: So they weren’t allowed to arrest anybody, but—

P: They couldn’t arrest, but when you called—


X: Well, I know that they [inaudible 2:39:52] with White people, but I didn’t know that

they could arrest Black ones either.

P: They couldn’t arrest the Black ones either. Eventually, they did. But, long before

that, all they could do was get on the phone, call, “Hey, I’ve got somebody down

here,” or whatever the case was. Maybe there was a fight or something like that,

and, about as much as they could do. You know, “Pull over! Police will be here

after a while!” [Laughter]

M: Did they get any kind of respect at all in the community, or was it just kind of—?

P: They did, really. They did. Yeah. I tried to respect them as such, because they

were ours. You know? And you’d probably call them before you called downtown.

You know, they couldn’t do very much, but still. It’s just the idea that you want to

try to keep it in the community first, and then—because if it went elsewhere, it

was going to be worse. Somebody wouldn’t want them going to jail.

X: The one thing about going into the service, there always has been a great deal of

respect for Black policemen and Black professionals. Always, that high level of

respect. Or a teacher or a nurse position. Because, I don’t know, you—you did

something that all Blacks aspired to do, or have their children do if they can’t do.

And so you always look up and respect that person. That’s just the way.

M: That makes sense.

X: I’d say, but that’s the way it is in our community. That community adhesiveness.

There used to be that kind of adhesiveness—that saying, “It takes a community?”

And everybody did that. I would no more be disrespectful to the lady that lived on

the corner when I was a kid growing up, as to say something disrespectful to my


mother. It was the same difference, you know? And my mother had better never

hear of that, and no matter how old I got! You know?

M: And touching on the Black professionals thing, so you said Dr. Hampton was also

outspoken.

P: Mmhm.

M: Was there—so, they were having the Mass Meetings out at the church. Were

there other sorts of—I don’t know if there were other sorts of venues elsewhere?

Like, where was he outspoken? Just in general life?

P: I’d imagine in his life, yeah, daily life, and at the church.

M: So did he actually speak formally at the church, or was it more…?

P: Now, I don’t remember him making a formal speech as such, as one of the main

speakers or anything like that. But yeah, sometimes—like, if there was something

going on, say at maybe a Business Meeting session or something—because

sometimes Business Meetings were separate from the regular Mass Meetings—

then you’d hear him say how he felt about things or whatever.

M: Okay. So it was known that way, kind of, he was—

P: Yes. He was known. But, you know, he was outspoken. He didn’t hide, or try to

not own up to having said something. He was a man; he stood up to what he said

and what he thought. And everybody knew it, yes.

M: Let’s see, what else was I—was there anything else you could tell us about Frank

knowing Medgar Evers, or was that a—?

P: I don’t know a lot about it, stuff I just—yes, from his journal.


M: What about any of the other speakers? Did you know much about the

relationship he had to them, or any of the other figures he kind of ran across?

P: Uh, I don’t know a whole lot about them, just from hearing him say, you know, “I

saw Such-and-such, and we talked with him,” that kind of thing and so forth. And

from my mother, too, because she was sort of like his personal secretary. And

she made a lot of calls for him and that kind of thing, to people up in the NAACP,

and up, whoever these people were, coming to the meetings to speak and all

those kinds of things. She did a lot of that stuff for him. But just, you know,

hearing him talk about knowing these people and that kind of thing, that’s how I

knew. And by them, a lot of them, showing up here, and that kind of thing. And

they would say something about him like they knew him, kind of thing. But I think

a lot of it came from when he was in Richmond, that, having gone through things

there, and going to meetings and stuff. I’m sure that’s how his contact was with a

lot of them, made through those avenues. And so, it kind of led him to have that

kind of relationship with them.

M: Did he talk much, to you or in public speaking, about Richmond and his activities

there, or did he speak more about Florida when he was in Florida?

P: Actually, more about Florida, but if there was something that related, and he

needed to refer to that, then certainly he would bring it up.

M: Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. Yeah, I guess they’re calling that group he got

arrested with the Richmond 34, now.

P: Yeah, mmhm.


M: Did you know there’s a really nice photograph—I mean, it’s of him getting

arrested, but the quality of it is very nice—from the Richmond Dispatch.

P: Yeah. Yeah, I think I have some papers from the celebration and so forth that

they had in Richmond, about three or four years ago, maybe?

M: Okay.

P: I think they did some—you know, placed some markers downtown, and some of

the different places where they were arrested, and that kind of thing. They had a

big weekend of activities, marking those things. And something on campus. And

so my brother Fred and I went to that. And some other family members, too.

M: So, did Frank actually do much of the—was he out with the picketers and things

like that, or was he mostly kind of, like, directing traffic, I guess, when he got

back here?

P: He was out there.

M: He was always out there?

P: He was out there. He was a leader, he was a leader. Really. He was there. He

stood in front of the band, and directed it, and marched along with the band. I

mean, he was generally the first person being arrested. So…

[Brief pause in interview.]

M: I did, as one sort of final-ish thing, wonder if you had anything else you wanted to

say about the Hunting and Fishing Club, in terms of—it seems like there was a

lot of respect for the men who did that, and—

P: Oh, yes! Very much so. I mean, we could have been a statistic just like other

families across the nation who encountered the same kind of problems that we


did. And we were just very blessed that those men cared enough about us, that

they gave up home life. I mean, when you think about it, they going to a job

during the day—and some in the night, because some people worked during the

night, and that kind of thing and so forth. So, they gave up all of their time to

come and make sure that we were protected, that we were okay. How much

more can you ask a person to do for you? You know? That meant an awful lot.

An awful lot. I might give you some time, but goodness! I mean, that was day in

and day out, it just went on and on and on and on and on! And not just in Ocala.

There was a time that my brother also pastored a church out in Altamonte

Springs. They went with him there. Wherever he went, they went. They never

trusted him by himself, because they just didn’t want anything happening to

him—or us. So, I mean… You just can’t put a price tag on that. It’s just the most

precious gift of them, so very unselfish of them. It just, it still gets to me, when

you think about those men—and the women—who sacrificed like they did. I

mean, whether it was hot, cold, rainy; it didn’t matter what the weather was, or

how bad the mosquitoes were. Any of those kinds of things and so forth. Or what

was going on at the church, because there’d be somebody around my dad all the

time, too. Because they didn’t like it, first of all, because—you may have heard by

now our church was the only church that even thought of entertaining a Mass

Meeting, or having business meetings for the NAACP and things like that. And

so, you know, “the old man is just off,” kind of thing. But he wasn’t an old man at

the time, but just because my brother was a younger man and so forth. I guess


that was their way of distinguishing. But, I mean… that was a lot. An awful lot. So

I, those men will always be present in my thoughts and my heart. Always.

M: Well, that’s a pretty good place to close for today if that’s okay with you. But

thank you very much for sitting down with us today and sharing all of this, and we

look forward to coming back.

P: In the meantime I’m going to find out from my niece, what did they do with those

articles? Because I’m sure that University of South Florida never got them. So,

and if not, I’m going to have some things back here. Because periodically,

something does come up. Somebody’s asking me about something. I do have a

few things here, but not as much as did I did have. There’s another point about

Ocala, and Frank, and so forth, and about his stand for going down by

educational things. And before he got—he did not get fired, as a lot people

thought he got fired from the school board because of his activities. He was a

thinker, he resigned. He was way ahead of them, he resigned long before they

ever thought about, you know, “We should get rid of him.” But in the meantime,

there was a school waiting for him. It was a just private church school, Matthew

Scipio, and through Matthew Scipio, the first Head Start was started here in

Marion County. And that was because—the reason why he was at Matthew

Scipio was because the school board here turned it down. When it first came out,

Head Start, the first year that Head Start started, all the schools across the nation

received the information to apply for Head Start programs. As I said, Marion

County refused it, and so, somebody else stepped up and applied it for it in the

name of Matthew Scipio School. And it was deemed—even through paperwork


on it, and do have articles of that too. It was one of the best Head Start programs

in the nation, was the Marion County program. And he started it. He did all of

them. Figure work, the financial stuff and all that kind of stuff that was required

that was required to do, and all that kind of stuff—and I personally know he did

that. And saw him working at it, many nights. And so, he did that, and got it

going. And they said it was one of the best programs in the nation. And that’s

something else that he did. But it was part of Civil Rights, because it wasn’t just

for little Black kids; it was everybody. And there were a lot of little White kids in

the program, and White teachers. Yes. It was funny, because some years later,

my same son here, Bertrand, who was just here, was going to school over at

East Marion, which is known in an area of the town for the Ku Klux Klan of the

county—big over in that section. He was going to school over there, and the

principal of the school, it just kind of bothered her, something about me. And so

one day, we were having a personal conversation. And I always signed my name

“Anne P. Haile.” And she asked me, what did the “P” stand for? Because

somewhere along the way, I had become president about the PTA and all that

stuff. And I told her, and she said, “You look like Frank Pinkston.” I said, “My

brother.” And she said, she was one of the first White teachers to volunteer for

the program. Life.

X: Every once in a while, you come up with a good one. [Laughter]

P: But anyway, I’ll let you go.

M: Again, thank you, very much.

P: You’re very welcome. Thank you.


M: It’s our pleasure.

[End of interview]

Transcribed by: Ryan Morini

Anna Jimenez

Audit-edited by: Ryan Morini, April 2, 2015

Final edit by: Ryan Morini, February 25, 2019

(352) 392 aahp 358a ann

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