By Luke Strickland (Tallahassee, FL)
Ever since I can remember I’ve known of family stories that happened in old Florida. For generations my family has been in the Sunshine State and each generation seems to have picked up a tale or two.
My great-great-great-grandfather, B.E. Mclin, was the second Commissioner of Agriculture for the State of Florida, serving in office from 1901-1912. (He had previously been a state senator from 1895-1899). At the time he was Commissioner of Agriculture, the entire cabinet consisted of six people. He was from Lake County in Central Florida. His reason for running for office was largely vested in the fact that his orange grove froze and his ownership of the largest crate operation in the state burned to the ground. He died in office on January 31, 1912 at the age of 60. His funeral took place in what is now known as the Old Capitol. A picture taken at his funeral was later used to reconstruct the staircase for the Old Capitol. To this day, some of his pictures can be found throughout the famed gothic building.
His son, my great-great-grandfather, Walter Mclin, played on the very first football team for the West Florida Seminary (precursor to Florida State University). In his first year of his undergraduate education, when word circulated of the plans to transform West Florida Seminary into a women’s college, he made a decision to transfer to the University of Tennessee. While attending Tennessee and playing for their football team he caught word that West Florida seminary was playing East Florida Seminary (precursor to the University of Florida). He immediately contacted an old friend that was playing for Georgia Tech and caught a train ride to Atlanta. From Atlanta, the two former teammates rendezvoused and headed to Lake City, Florida to join their former teammates for one last game. Some today might call it a prelude to the rivalry between the Seminoles and Gators. Hometown loyalty to West Florida Seminary paid off for Walter McClin as he was later elected to the Florida House representing the Tallahassee area.
(State Archives of Florida)
Times certainly have changed in the Sunshine State but some things remain. On the other side of my family, my great-grandfather, Edgar Strickland, was a country physician from Tallahassee who studied at Emory. He was one of a handful of Floridians to ever serve in the Florida House from more than a single district. His legislation included the creation of vital statistics for the state as well as the passing of a county ordinance to stop the feeding of alcohol to hogs.
His son, Tom Strickland, my grandfather, told an interesting tale that occurred while he was working as an aide to his father, Edgar Strickland. In the midst of a crowd, State Representative Edgar Strickland was handed an envelope with $700 inside and no clue who handed him the sum of money or for what purpose. Aware the money had come from the hands of special interests, he immediately instructed his son (my grandfather) to turn the money in to the Clerk of the Court and report the incident. To Edgar, Florida had no room for corruption. Just like many states, Florida’s history of corruption and special interests runs deep. But so does our tradition of Floridians of conviction fighting to preserve the dream that so enchants our state.
Florida doesn’t share the homogenous culture that many southern states relish and promote. What we do have is a sense of opportunity and an environment that enables diverse dreams to be pursued and many voices to be heard. My ancestors were part of a Florida of a different era. They may have never enjoyed the pristine beaches of South Florida or experienced the political power that Florida now holds as the third largest state in the Union. But even in their time they did realize that Florida was different. It was a place where the question of “what if” mystified the masses and the possibility of all the success the world had to offer seemed right around the corner. The state they knew may be different than today’s Florida, but the opportunity that they entrusted to us still lives on.
Luke Strickland is a senior at Florida State University, studying finance. He is a Campus Representative for The James Madison Institute, a think tank based in Tallahassee, where he resides.