The Marker I Almost Walked Past
This is going to make some people uncomfortable, but it happened right here in Tampa. While I was out filming a story about the Fortune Taylor Bridge, I came across a historical marker that nearly escaped my attention. Something told me to stop, so I turned around and read the marker. It tells the story of racial terror in Hillsborough County and names five known victims. Their names are Galloway, killed in 1892, John Crooms in 1893, Lewis Jackson in 1903, Samuel Online in 1912, and Robert Johnson in 1930. Five names, five lives, and five reminders that racial violence was not something that only happened somewhere else. We often hear stories about lynching in places like Mississippi, Alabama, or Georgia, as though Florida somehow stood outside that history. But Tampa was part of the South too, and racial terror reached this community just as surely as it reached others. Standing there reading those names made the history feel different to me. It was no longer something sitting inside an old history book. It was something that had happened on the same ground where people today walk, drive, work, and raise their families.
The Story of Robert Johnson
Robert Johnson’s story is the one the marker focuses on most directly, and it is the one that stopped me cold. He had been arrested after a white woman reported that she had been assaulted. Tampa law enforcement later determined that Johnson was innocent and cleared him of any connection to the crime. That should have been the end of the story. He should have walked out of custody and gone home. Instead, during the middle of the night, Johnson was turned over to an armed white man who had no legal authority to take him. The man was the brother of a Hillsborough County constable and falsely claimed that he was a deputy constable. Somehow, that claim was enough for Johnson to be placed into his hands. A few hours later, Robert Johnson was found dead near the Hillsborough River at Sligh Avenue. No one was ever held accountable for his death. Think about that for a moment, because this was a man who had already been cleared of the accusation that put him in custody in the first place.
Innocence Was Not Enough
What troubles me most is that being proven innocent still did not save Robert Johnson. We are often taught that the purpose of the justice system is to determine guilt or innocence and then act according to the law. Johnson’s case shows us what could happen when race mattered more than that promise. Law enforcement had already determined that he was not responsible for the assault. Yet somehow a man without legal authority was still allowed to take custody of him in the darkness of night. That tells us that the failure was larger than one angry individual. Somebody opened the door. Somebody accepted the false claim that this man had authority. Somebody allowed Robert Johnson to leave official custody without the protection that should have come with being cleared. Then he ended up dead near the river, and the system failed him again when no one was held responsible. That is why racial terror cannot be understood only by looking at the person who carried out the final act. We also have to examine the people, institutions, customs, and silences that made such violence possible.
The History Beneath Our Feet
That is what struck me as I stood there reading the marker near the river. This did not happen in some distant Southern town that has nothing to do with Tampa today. It happened here. People living in Hillsborough County walked these streets while events like this were taking place. Families knew these names, heard the rumors, understood the warnings, and lived with the fear that such violence created. Yet generations can pass, buildings can rise, streets can change, and eventually people can walk over the same ground without knowing what happened there. That is one reason historical markers matter. They interrupt the ordinary day and force us to remember something a community might otherwise forget. You can be taking a walk, filming a bridge, or simply passing through the area, and suddenly history reaches out and taps you on the shoulder. It says, Do not walk past me. The ground beneath our feet holds more stories than most of us will ever know.
Remembering All of Tampa
Understanding Tampa means knowing more than its beaches, sports teams, restaurants, development, and beautiful waterfront. It also means knowing the parts of its history that are painful to discuss. That does not mean we hate Tampa or believe the city should be judged only by its worst moments. Loving a place should not require pretending that nothing terrible ever happened there. In fact, I believe knowing the whole story gives us a deeper understanding of the community we call home. The names on that marker belonged to real people who had families, hopes, fears, and lives that mattered. They should not disappear simply because remembering them makes somebody uncomfortable. History does not become less true because we would rather talk about something easier. If we can celebrate the accomplishments of our city, we should also be mature enough to acknowledge its wounds. Both belong to the same history. And if we expect future generations to understand where they live, then we owe them the truth about what happened here.
Why I Stopped to Read
I keep thinking about how easily I could have walked past that marker without reading a single word. That happens every day because most of us are busy trying to get where we are going. But sometimes slowing down for a few minutes changes the way you see a familiar place. I went there thinking about one part of Tampa history and walked away carrying another. That is the thing about history: once you know something, you cannot unknow it. The Hillsborough River looks a little different when you know that Robert Johnson’s body was found near it. A neighborhood feels different when you understand that somebody once lost his life there because racial terror was allowed to overpower justice. The marker does not ask us to live permanently in grief. It asks us to remember. Remembering means giving names back to people who were too often reduced to statistics or forgotten altogether. It means refusing to allow silence to finish what violence started.
Summary
Five known victims of racial terror are remembered on a marker in Tampa, including Robert Johnson, who was killed in 1930 after authorities had cleared him of wrongdoing. Their stories remind us that racial violence was part of Tampa’s history too.
Conclusion
If you pass this marker, stop long enough to read the names. Knowing where we live also means knowing what happened here, even when the truth is difficult.