Following a reflection on public and local history, this post will continue the site narrative from previous posts by accessing public memory.
A brief search of “Club Eaton” in Google Books returned a surprising find—pictures and information unknown to me about Club Eaton in a book I have read before by a notable local historian, Altermese Smith Bentley’s Seminole County in the Black America series. I am familiar with (and a great admirer of) her work, compiling and writing Georgetown: The History of a Black Neighborhood and other historical research about many Black communities throughout Orange and Seminole Counties. At the Sanford Museum, her work is frequently relied upon when fulfilling research requests concerning the histories of several Black communities around the city and county. Additionally, it informed much of my knowledge when writing research papers and grant mockups for Georgetown—one of Sanford’s “segregated suburbs.” Despite thinking I was familiar with the book’s contents, finding these images shows how important it is to consistently revisit sources for new information.
On Methodology
More importantly, the book is a testament to the necessity of conducting and collecting local history. The information and sources compiled by Bentley are unique—likely inaccessible to more academic historians, and accessible to her given her community status. Because her family was one of the first in Georgetown, she was a known and trusted member of the community. Throughout her life, she educated, supported, and dedicated herself to public service within her community. Her purpose, intent, and motivation while collecting local history were trusted and never brought into question. As such, she created some of the most definite records of local community history available today. Ms. Bentley is a wonderful example of how community members are uniquely situated to record local history and narratives that more formally trained historians desire for rich and illuminating textures but often do not have access to themselves, given their ‘outsider’ status.
Tensions between ‘outsiders’ and ‘insiders’ not only run throughout the history of Eatonville as mentioned in previous posts, but throughout Black history as well—a result of our country’s history of racial violence and segregation. Researching the history of juke joints as precursors for Chitlin’ Circuit venues, I found an entry on the Mississippi Encyclopedia which highlights the connection between Jim Crow policies and the clandestine operation of juke joints—a social venue which existed as “safe places for African Americans to gather without white supervision.” Requiring “knowledge of the juke’s existence and possible operating hours,” they opened dependent on the availability of musicians and attended by word of mouth “spreading through community networks rather than via official advertising.” However, this is not to say that outsiders cannot attend. Instead, “those who are willing to talk to local citizens about attending juke joints will most often be welcome.”
This applies to the collection of local history as well. To establish trust, outsider historians should take steps to demonstrate a willingness to engage in community understanding and to establish relationships with its members who possess historical and social knowledge. Historically and currently, Black history and culture have been mined and exploited by (primarily white) outsiders with ill or otherwise misinformed intentions. There are generational and current wounds which necessitate an awareness and sensitivity when approaching the collection of Black history from an outsider perspective. Collecting overlooked or forgotten information requires community participation, and more formally trained historians must reach out to and invite this participation in their methodologies.
Site Narrative
Bentley’s book includes illuminating information about the site through its original owner and documentation of its interior. She includes images of the site’s owner, Condor Merritt, and a brief biographical sketch. Merritt’s story presents an intriguing element to the site’s history and context. Merritt leveraged a refined business acumen and a series of savvy investments to become a highly successful real estate developer and businessman—despite the institutionalized socioeconomic strictures often placed on African American entrepreneurs that created barriers to access capital and business spaces. Further research into Condor Merritt and his life will likely yield contextualizing information concerning the site’s origins.
The interior images were exciting finds. As someone who cannot look at a historic structure’s exterior without wistfully wishing to see its interior, I have wanted an inside look at the site since first seeing it. These provide a physical and temporal window into the site. Not only do these photos show the club’s interior, it does so in the site’s heyday. They place us within the social scene happening in Eatonville at the time, specifically Merritt’s contribution.
The interior photos contain several elements of visual evidence. The photo with Merritt and his family sat at a table shows a significant crowd in the background—a testament to the club’s popularity and status as a locus for social gathering. The other photo shows a group of patrons and employees gathered around a bar with Merritt in the middle. Also supported by Bentley’s caption which most likely came from personal or community knowledge, the style of dress communicates the club’s status as an upscale venue. This marks a significant departure from juke joints which operated off of a “come as you are” mentality as patrons were often laborers or agricultural workers seeking avenues of entertainment and socialization after periods of long, exhaustive work. Interior design aspects also communicate the club’s status as upscale venue.
Here too is an opportunity to combine research threads to develop a more complex understanding of the site’s history through its narratives. Just as newspapers combined with performance videos and ephemera to illustrate portraits of the past last week, oral histories and photographs also become points of connections to a more vibrant past.
Within the digital collections of Florida Memory is an oral history by “Washboard” Bill Cooke at the 1993 Florida Folk Festival. In it, he discusses his life as a traveling musician and performer. When asked about Eatonville, he responds, “Club Eaton? You ever been there? You ought to go to Club Eaton.” (22:15) He expresses the centrality of the site to his idea of the city by continuing, “The only thing I knew about Eatonville was Club Eaton.” (22:35) Recounting his time in its physical space, he comments, “It had a beautiful bar…A glass bar…That place looked beautiful.”
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