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Hernando Today

Integrating Hernando

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Linnea Brown

Published: January 19, 2008

BROOKSVILLE - BROOKSVILLE - A year after Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his famous "I Have a Dream" speech in 1963, President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act, enforcing desegregation and making it illegal to discriminate based on race, color, religion or national origin.

And in 1967 and 1968 — through much behind-the-scenes work by locals — King's dream finally began to take shape in Hernando County's previously-segregated school system.

'Separate but equal'

Things were pretty different in Hernando County in the '60s.

Like most small rural southern towns, Brooksville was long overdue for change. The races was dubbed "separate but equal," but they weren't. Inequalities ran rampant.

"A lot was difficult then — still is, and always will be — but we made due as best we could," said retired school teacher and administrator Lorenzo Hamilton, 69.

Through the mid '60s, people of different races did not speak unless they knew each other. A "whites only" sign remained posted above the water fountain at the Hernando County Courthouse, just as a "colored entrance" sign could still be seen on the side of the defunct Dixie Theater.

If a black family in Brooksville wanted to go out to dinner, they were expected to trek to Tampa or Lakeland to black-owned restaurants. If on a road trip to Tallahassee, they were expected to pack lunches and stop on the side of the road to use the restroom.

"The only place that even offered (take-out) to black families was the Cottage Dinette, located on what is now the corner of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and Broad Street in Brooksville," said Brooksville resident Roger Landers, 66, also a retired school teacher and administrator.

Perhaps the sharpest divide was in Hernando's schools.

Children from across the county were either sent to the all-white Brooksville Junior High (now Brooksville Elementary) and Hernando High, or the all-black Moton School (now Mid-Florida Head Start).

"It was like night and day," Hamilton recalled.

Now a Spring Hill resident, he taught physical education and driver's education at Moton. He was also athletic director and coached the school's top-notch football, basketball and track teams, among other titles.

"I did it all," he said. "Everything you can name."

Landers, meanwhile, taught math, science and social studies at Hernando High.

But in the turbulent years that followed the passage of the Civil Rights Act, everything changed.

When two become one

With school districts across the south scrambling to comply with federal law, Hernando officials submitted the district's desegregation plan in 1966.

In preparation for the plan's implementation, they hired three white teachers and an administrator — Landers — to fill vacancies at Moton.

The following year, Moton's older students, football players and Hamilton were moved to Hernando High.

"Football was the transitional medicine," Hamilton said. "It was the glue that held them all together, and made for a much smoother transition."

In fall of 1968, Moton closed, forcing the rest of the school's students to leave the only school they'd ever known.

"It meant leaving everything they were familiar with and having to compete with people who were already homesteaded and entrenched," Hamilton said.

Landers — who came with the students as Hernando High's new principal that year — recalled the first day of school, when less than 200 new students walked into the school of more than 1,000 for the first time.

"It was tense," he said. "All eyes were on the kids, and the faculty had been advised to be vigilant and mindful because this would be difficult for everybody. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for some of (the students), coming into this strange school and trying to graduate and fit in."

There were whispers and racial slurs, as well as inevitable tension, but the students tried to adjust.

"Like anything else, it was two groups of people placed in an environment where they did not request to be together," Hamilton said. "There were problems with acceptance and people doing things differently, and because Hernando was the main school, Moton had to take a back seat."

Then football season started.

The infamous walkout

Like most high school football games, the school's students were known for bursting into a spirited rendition of their fight song with the band each time a touchdown was scored.

But it wasn't just any fight song.

It was "Dixie," a southern song perceived by many to have racist undertones. The school's white students also whipped out the confederate flag and waved it around as they cheered and sang.

The school's black students were horrified.

"For 100 years, they'd had their own schools, and here they were in this school, hearing this song," Landers said. "There were also black students on the football team, and suddenly there was all this pressure for them not to play, not to go to practice."

The white students didn't understand, either.

"There was never any thought given to the song — it had been that way for years," Landers said. "When we tried (discussing the issue), they got offended and thought, 'It's because they don't like our fight song.'"

In mid-October, the school's black students walked out in protest.

"The walkout was something the community had never experienced, and nobody would want to go through it (again)," Hamilton said. "It was really a tense time, full of misinterpretation and misunderstandings."

Landers arranged for the students to be bussed to the Dixie Theater, where the students discussed their frustration. Negotiations took place over the next several days, with administrators ultimately banning "Dixie" from the school and promoting Hamilton to assistant principal to give the students more representation.

They returned to school after one week with no academic penalties, and a human relations committee was formed to aid future communication.

"There was a lot of hard work among leaders of both black and white communities to make sure those early years went smoothly," Landers said. "And there was a lot of soul searching that went on with these kids. I particularly have to credit the athletes for rising above the fray, so to speak."

Desegregation vs. Integration

So has King's dream been realized locally?

To some extent — but its still in the process of fulfilling itself, the two men said.

"Desegregation is a legal term," Landers said. "Integration is a sociological process, and that process still goes on. We desegregated the schools here."

But one thing's for sure: it's an improvement from 40 years ago.

"As time has gone on, we've eventually gotten to a population that had never known segregated schools," Landers said. "Now, when things happen (between students), they're viewed by adults as racial issues, but not so much by kids."

While Hamilton said he thinks the process would have been easier if it had started with younger students, he said better resources have helped level the playing field.

"Before, it was not 'separate but equal,'" he said. "There was disparity between schools. At Moton, we didn't have a gym or bleachers, and all of our textbooks were secondhand."

The desegregation discussions are far from over. Ongoing issues include the merits and pitfalls of the district's racial bussing plan, as well as neighborhood schools and equal resources between schools.

But today, many of the graduates of those tumultuous years at Hernando High have thrived.

Hamilton, who went on to become co-principal of the school (and later at several other schools throughout the district), has retained hundreds of photos and news clippings of former students who became successful.

They include doctors, lawyers, professors and professional athletes. One particularly recognizable face is Brooksville's own "hometown hero" Ricky Feacher, a 1972 graduate who went on to professional football for the Cleveland Browns.

Another athlete, Freddy Hudson, who graduated in 1971, is a well-known teacher and coach at Springstead High School.

"The school grew to be a representation of modern civilization," Hamilton said. "Most people seem to accept people on their own merit, just like Dr. King — not by their color, but by the content of their character. But it's been an evolution from then until now."

Reporter Linnea Brown can be reached at 352-544-5289 or lbrown@hernandotoday.com.

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