My Black History for today. My great-great Uncle John Sunday:
John Sunday and the significance of his home
By C. Scott Satterwhite
By C. Scott Satterwhite
“I often like to ride my bike around town, and I was attracted to that property,” said John Ellis, a Pensacola Realtor. “I was drawn to that house, because it’s an impressive home but never saw anyone there. There’s got to be a story to that house. That house must’ve belonged to someone special.”
The house Ellis refers to did indeed belong to someone very special: one of Pensacola’s most well-known and prominent figures of the late 19th and early 20th century. That prominent figure was John Sunday.
Walking by the home today, one sees little to indicate the historical significance of the residence and nothing denoting its most famous resident, Mr. Sunday.
There are no historic markers or signs on the outside of the large and fairly ornate—if not slightly neglected—house on the corner of Rues and Romana streets in the downtown area.
“It’s disappointing that John Sunday is treated as a footnote in Pensacola’s history,” said Teniade Broughton, vice president of the John Sunday Society. “In reality, he’s an entire chapter… [Sunday’s] house is a physical testament to his life and legacy.”
The John Sunday Society is an organization founded to save John Sunday’s house and preserve his legacy.
Currently facing demolition to make way for a series of town houses, Sunday’s historic house is at the center of controversy. A group of Pensacolans, including members of the John Sunday Society, is attempting to save the home from destruction and secure Sunday’s significant, but largely neglected, place in Pensacola history.
To tell the story of the house and its significance, one has to first tell the story of John Sunday.
Sunday’s early years: “He was pretty much a self-made man”
For many familiar with his story, John Sunday embodies so much of what was and is Pensacola.
For many familiar with his story, John Sunday embodies so much of what was and is Pensacola.
“Pensacolans should care, really need to care, about John Sunday,” said historian Matthew Clavin, a professor with the University of Houston. Clavin is the author of “Aiming for Pensacola: Fugitive Slaves on the Atlantic and Southern Frontiers.”
“[Sunday] teaches us so much about Pensacola in the nineteenth century.”
Born in 1838 to an enslaved mother, Jinny, and a white farmer, John Sunday was given the name of his father.
The Sunday home was unusual in many regards, not for having a biracial child, but because Jinny and John Sunday, Sr., lived openly together as a married couple. When Sunday was a baby, his father was murdered.
Historic facts about anyone from the early 19th century are difficult to piece together—and especially so when the subjects are enslaved African Americans.
However, much of Sunday’s history is documented through court dockets, military service records, city directories, all supplemented with the family histories of this prominent Pensacolan.
Pearl Perkins is a member of the John Sunday Society. She is also Sunday’s great-great-granddaughter.
According to Perkins, after the death of Sunday’s white father, the father’s white children from a previous marriage attempted to claim Jinny and Sunday’s biracial children as family property.
The father, however, granted a gift to Jinny and her children by securing their emancipation in his will, essentially freeing them upon his death.
“This is all in the court records,” Perkins said.
“He absolutely gave Jinny and their four children freedom,” thus allowing his biracial children a new path outside of bondage.
Despite being a free man of color, Sunday still lived in the Deep South where life was precarious at best and dangerous at worst. Sunday knew that if he were to thrive in this environment, he’d need to take every opportunity to bring himself up from this previous condition.
“He was pretty much a self-made man,” said Perkins of her great-great grandfather.
According to Perkins, Sunday “went to apprentice school at the age of 15” and worked very hard to help his family survive, which was not an easy task for a black man in the antebellum South.
Pensacola, in the pre-war years, offered more opportunities for free people of color than much of the Deep South, but the Southern institution of chattel slavery was an ominous part of daily life.
Everything changed with the Civil War.
Sunday goes to War: “It’s a story that’s close to my heart”
With the election of Abraham Lincoln, many Southerners felt certain that the Republican president planned to end slavery. Talk of a civil war seemed more plausible. Many Pensacolans viewed the looming war with mixed feelings—mostly depending on their ethnicity.
With the election of Abraham Lincoln, many Southerners felt certain that the Republican president planned to end slavery. Talk of a civil war seemed more plausible. Many Pensacolans viewed the looming war with mixed feelings—mostly depending on their ethnicity.
According to Clavin’s recent book on the subject, “an angry [white] mob destroyed a wax figure of the radical white abolitionist John Brown” that a local craftsman displayed alongside statues of Jesus and the apostles.
After Lincoln’s election, angry whites sent President Lincoln a telegram: “You were last night hung in effigy in this city.”
Understandably, African Americans had a different opinion of Lincoln’s election. In the days leading up to the war, many enslaved African Americans were elated at the prospect of war and the possibility of freedom that Lincoln’s election symbolized.
The federal outpost of Fort Pickens, located on Pensacola Beach, was a common destination for fugitive slaves from the first rumors of war until its final days. After Pensacola’s brief time in the Confederacy ended and Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, the U.S. military soon allowed African Americans to join the fight that ended slavery in the United States.
One of the first from Pensacola officially to join in this fight for freedom was Sunday.
According to his military service record, Sunday joined for duty and enrolled May 15, 1863 in Pensacola. Sunday joined the U.S. Army as a private and was soon sent to join the 6th Regiment of the Corps d’Afrique in Port Hudson, Louisiana. He was 25.
The unit Sunday joined fought in the Siege of Port Hudson and was one of the first African American regiments to engage directly with the Confederate Army.
“Because of the prejudice of the times, they didn’t want to give black men guns,” said Marvin Steinback, a park ranger with the Port Hudson State Historic Site. The Corps d’Afrique “was primarily labor troops, building siege fortifications and trenches.”
Although largely unarmed and acting as laborers and stretcher bearers, the Corps d’Afrique was in the middle of combat. “The bullets were still flying,” said Steinback.
The Siege of Port Hudson lasted 48 days, the longest in U.S. military history. “For the duration, [the U.S. Army] had the Corps d’Afrique digging these trenches while the riflemen were behind them, protecting them,” said Steinback. “They’d build the trenches, and the riflemen would move up.”
“They have such a colorful history that people don’t even know,” said Steinback. “It’s a story that’s close to my heart.”
With the 6th Regiment of the Corps d’Afrique, the army promoted Sunday to the rank of First Sergeant in September of 1863. The Union Army reorganized Sunday’s regiment officially as the 78th Infantry, United States Colored Troops, and he remained with the 78th until the Union Army won the war.
Sunday’s family, however, was not all on the Union side. The white children of John Sunday, Sr. sided with the Confederacy. His half-brother joined the Confederate Army in Florida. Both sons were named after their father.
“One brother was in the Confederate Army because he was white,” said Perkins. “The other was in the Union Army.” The white brother was killed in action fighting for the Confederacy. “As luck had it,” said Perkins, “my great-great-grandfather survived.”
Somewhere during his time in the military, Sunday befriended Gen. Ulysses Grant. According to the Sunday family history, “they were very good friends.”
According to Perkins, “at one time, the [Sunday] family had a sword that was given to my great-great-grandfather by Ulysses Grant.”
At the end of Sunday’s military service to the United States, Sunday’s service record states that he had “been furnished with transportation and subsistence in kind for the journey to New Orleans, Louisiana.”
After the war, he came back home to Pensacola to take part in the reconstruction the city.
Reconstruction: “It should be celebrated”
Throughout downtown Pensacola, several monuments stand to mark the role of Confederates during and after the Civil War. In Ferdinand Plaza is the obelisk dedicated to William Chipley, a former colonel in the Confederacy and mayor of Pensacola. The Perry Mansion, which sits on the corner of Palafox and Wright Streets, is the restored home of Gov. Edward Perry. Perry was also a former colonel in the Confederate Army who ran for governor on the platform of ending the Republican Reconstruction-era governments in Florida. He won the state, but lost in his home county of Escambia.
Throughout downtown Pensacola, several monuments stand to mark the role of Confederates during and after the Civil War. In Ferdinand Plaza is the obelisk dedicated to William Chipley, a former colonel in the Confederacy and mayor of Pensacola. The Perry Mansion, which sits on the corner of Palafox and Wright Streets, is the restored home of Gov. Edward Perry. Perry was also a former colonel in the Confederate Army who ran for governor on the platform of ending the Republican Reconstruction-era governments in Florida. He won the state, but lost in his home county of Escambia.
The most prominent Confederate monument, however, is the memorial statue at Lee Square. The memorial honors Jefferson Davis, Stephen Mallory and Edward Perry with a statue of a symbolic Confederate soldier standing high above the city and always facing south, looking over Pensacola. The statue’s base, where one often finds flowers, bears the phrase: “Our Confederate Dead.”
For those who fought to save the United States and end slavery, however, there is virtually no marker of prominence in the downtown area. For those who rebuilt the local government and served during the period of federal occupation and Reconstruction, there is barely a word devoted to this period, outside of the Julee Cottage Museum.
“Like nearly every other black soldier during the Civil War, Sunday chose to fight and would have given his life for the northern army, not the Confederacy,” said Clavin. “His success during the war as a soldier and later as a free man demonstrates some of the opportunities available to people of color in Pensacola in the nineteenth century.”
Once Sunday came back from his military service, he returned to his home with a wife, whom he met in Louisiana. Together they started a family, and the Union Army veteran set forth to take an active role in rebuilding Pensacola during the Reconstruction period.
Reflecting on the lack of local scholarship and understanding of this period, Clavin said: “Reconstruction is one important area of U.S. history largely misunderstood and neglected by historians and ordinary people alike.”
Often mischaracterized as wholly a period of corruption in government, Reconstruction was the U.S. government’s effort to rebuild the South, educate those formerly enslaved, and re-establish a more equitable government that reflected the population, both black and white.
“Despite its many alleged failures,” said Clavin, the Reconstruction government “was the first real attempt at a multi-racial democracy in American history. It should be celebrated.”
With the end of slavery and federal troops occupying much of the South, there were unprecedented opportunities for African Americans. Certain characteristics made Pensacola an ideal place for African Americans to find success, including the pre-war presence of a free community of color, the lack of wholesale destruction which destroyed many southern cities, and the very large black population.
“That Pensacola during Reconstruction avoided many of the heinous acts of violence and terror that visited most urban places in the South is a real testament to the city’s exceptionalism,” said Clavin.
Almost immediately, Sunday began working as a mechanic at the Pensacola Navy Yard and later as a customs inspector for the Port of Pensacola. During this time, Sunday began acquiring property and building homes throughout the city. Trained as a carpenter, Sunday used his skills to establish his wealth in real estate, a nearly impossible task before the war.
In the 1870s, Sunday began his service to Pensacola and the State of Florida. In 1874, he served as the second African American to represent Escambia County in the state legislature. After that, Sunday served as a councilman for the City of Pensacola. He held that position until 1885.
The year 1885 is an important year in Pensacola history: it’s the year Reconstruction ended.
The recently-elected governor of Florida and resident of Escambia County, former Confederate Brig. Gen. Edward Perry, acted swiftly to abolish what he saw as the “carpetbag” government of Pensacola. Once in office, he revoked the city charter over a somewhat arbitrary tax dispute and dismissed all of Pensacola’s elected officials, including John Sunday.
In a move that was unarguably a bloodless coup, Perry replaced the local government with handpicked successors, including former Confederate officer and wealthy railroad magnate William Chipley.
According to an article in the “Atlanta Constitution,” originally published in 1885, “The mayor and marshal were arrested [for refusing to vacate their posts], and the provisional officers took charge of the city without any interference.” With one legal maneuver by Gov. Perry, nearly all of the progressive gains African Americans earned after Emancipation ended overnight.
In his book about Florida Reconstruction, “Emancipation Betrayed,” historian Paul Ortiz described Gov. Perry’s political move in stark terms: “Rarely had class warfare in the United States ever been so transparent.”
The clock then began turning back on the post-war prospects for racial equity. This trend continued for the next century.
After Sunday and his black colleagues were forced from office, he helped form Pensacola’s chapter of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), a veteran organization for those who fought for the United States during the Civil War.
The GAR advocated for veterans’ rights and the voting rights of African Americans after the war. Most of their chapters were, understandably, in the North, but a few were in the South. The chapter Sunday helped organize was one of those exceptions. For a time, he even held the position of post commander.
As Sunday’s business interest and community engagement grew, so did Sunday’s family. Sunday owned numerous properties in Pensacola, and he built several homes throughout the city. His personal homestead became a focus of his later years.
In the years following the war, Sunday purchased a large plot of land in a multi-ethnic community near the port called the Tanyard, a historic multiracial neighborhood south of Garden Street and West of Palafox. His original intention was to build a home there, but he was persuaded by his sister Mercedes Ruby to give the land to the black and Creole congregants of St. Michael Catholic Church so they could form their own church.
The African American congregants of St. Michael felt that white congregants were not allowing them an equal role in the leadership and direction of the church. As racial lines slowly returned to divide people of color from whites, the black and Creole Catholics felt they would be better served by having their own church. These African American Catholics petitioned the diocese for the right to build a new church, and it was granted.
Officially founded in 1891, St. Joseph Catholic Church was unique for many reasons, most notably its service to the black, Creole and white immigrant communities of Pensacola at the turn of the century. St. Joseph remains a cornerstone in the community, with its volunteer-run medical clinic which serves Pensacola’s underprivileged with free medical care.
“That structure where St. Joseph church stands was supposed to be his home,” said Perkins. “That’s where St. Joseph church is today. You can’t tell the story of St. Joseph church without telling the story of John Sunday.”
“He was faithful to the church, and he was loyal to this city,” said Perkins.
The church is one of only a few structures from the original Tanyard community still standing in the original location. The other structure is the home Sunday later built a few blocks away.
In 1901, Sunday placed his foundation on the corner of Rues and Romana at 302 Romana Street. While Sunday owned several properties, according to Perkins, this is the one he intended as his family home.
“He laid the foundation a year before he started building on that plot, because he wanted to make sure the house was completely settled,” said Perkins. “He didn’t want any cracks in the walls. He wanted it to be perfect.”
Jim Crow: “If you don’t want me, I’ll go somewhere else.”
With the advent of Pensacola’s Jim Crow laws of the 20th century, Sunday saw his city dramatically change. He remained prosperous and continued to purchase property, but Jim Crow laws forced Sunday to move much of his business out of the downtown area—including a popular restaurant on the corner of Palafox and Garden.
With the advent of Pensacola’s Jim Crow laws of the 20th century, Sunday saw his city dramatically change. He remained prosperous and continued to purchase property, but Jim Crow laws forced Sunday to move much of his business out of the downtown area—including a popular restaurant on the corner of Palafox and Garden.
As one of the wealthiest businessmen in Pensacola, a veteran and “self-made man,” Sunday took this indignity with surprising grace—at least publicly.
“When they chased him out of downtown, he said ‘That’s okay. I’ve got other properties. If you don’t want me, I’ll go somewhere else,’” said Perkins of her great-great-grandfather.
After Jim Crow limited where Sunday could live and put other restrictions on his life, he decided to focus on building his community.
Most notably, he put energy, time and money into building the historic Belmont-Devilliers area. Two buildings that he helped construct—the famed Bunny Club and Gussies Records—still stand as a testament to his craftsmanship and building expertise.
Many view Sunday’s focus on Belmont-Devilliers as a testament to his love of Pensacola, not to mention his self-determination.
“If he needed it, he produced. If he wanted milk, he’d get a cow. He didn’t have to ask anyone for anything. He had his own money,” said Perkins.
In his 1907 book “The Negro in Business,” Booker T. Washington described Pensacola — a city whose population was majority black— as “a typical negro business community” having a “healthy communal progressive spirit, so necessary to our people.”
Washington took time to note a few prominent Pensacolans: “The wealthiest colored man in that section of the state is John Sunday…He owns valuable holdings in the principal business streets of the city and employs steadily a force of men to repair old, and build new, houses.”
Besides the “force of men” he employed, Sunday trained his children in the building trade. “He used all of his children,” said Perkins. “Several followed him in the family trade.”
When Washington wrote his study of Pensacola, Sunday was reportedly worth $125,000, the modern equivalent of over 3 million dollars, an incredible sum for a man born into slavery.
Sunday died in 1925. He is buried in St. Michael Cemetery. Still, rising from slavery to such prominence, despite incredible obstacles, puts him in a very unique category of local historical figures.
The John Sunday House: “A testament to the American Dream”
“Everyone knows the saying about being doomed to repeat history if we don’t learn it— but in some cases, I think we would be fortunate to repeat our history” said Clavin. “There’s a lot of inspiration to be gained from studying a man like John Sunday.”
“Everyone knows the saying about being doomed to repeat history if we don’t learn it— but in some cases, I think we would be fortunate to repeat our history” said Clavin. “There’s a lot of inspiration to be gained from studying a man like John Sunday.”
Nonetheless, few Pensacolans appear to be familiar with his story. In the early 20th Century, Sunday’s presence was ubiquitous. One hundred years later, his legacy and the significance of his home are called into question as the house at 302 West Romana is under threat of demolition.
“On the part of the developer, it’s in their best interest to minimize the significance of the house as much as they can,” said Ellis.
Ellis is the president of the John Sunday Society. “They say that we’re not even sure if John Sunday lived there… But when I see ‘John Sunday, Creole, 302 West Romana’ [in historic city directories], that’s all I need to see that this was his house,” said Ellis.
“Enslaved people built the shacks and plantation mansions too,” said Broughton. “But the story of a home is always centered around who lived there and not who built it. But we know Sunday built and lived in this house.”
Perkins goes further: “When they refer to this house as ‘302 West Romana,’ I tell them: ‘This is John Sunday’s House.’ I put a face to the property.”
“This house is significant, because this is the house that John Sunday built for him and his family,” said Perkins. “It stood the test of time. He put his heart and soul into this house.”
“My grandma was raised in that house,” said Perkins. “Part of my mother’s childhood was in that house. This is personal. It’s lineage.”
The John Sunday Society formed in response to the threat of demolition with one sole mission: “Our mission is to save the house and preserve it in its place,” said Ellis.
While admitting the house has deteriorated over the years, Ellis claims the demolition is extreme.
“I guarantee you, if someone marketed a home in North Hill for demolition, specifically in the property description…there would be a riot,” said Ellis.
Ellis then answers the question his critics ask: “If this house is so important, then why are people all of a sudden trying to save it? Well, the reality is that no one really perceived that it was in danger until recently.”
Ellis believes that the reason the house is under threat of demolition is because “people were just not aware of the home’s tie to John Sunday.”
“It seems like a huge wasted opportunity. If you marketed it as the ‘John Sunday Home,’ someone would be interested in restoring it instead of marketing it for demolition.”
Pensacola’s identity is deeply rooted in its history, but the city’s African American history has long been neglected by the broader community. “As of now, the African American narrative [in Pensacola] is severely marginalized, ignored or erased altogether, which is odd for a city that was largely of African descent for most of its history,” said Broughton.
Besides her work with the John Sunday Society, Broughton is currently working with an Atlanta-based company to develop the John Sunday Legacy Trail, which “tells Pensacola history through physical sites associated with John Sunday. There’s a lot of outside interest about Sunday.”
The same Atlanta company “just completed a W.E.B. Dubois Legacy trail, so I’m excited to add Sunday next to some of the biggest names in history,” said Broughton.
“We need more uplifting stories about those who overcame oppression than those who were facilitators of other folks’ sorrow,” said Broughton.
“By preserving [Sunday’s] history, we can help convince people of the possibilities available to even those faced with tremendous obstacles,” said Clavin. “His home is not just a symbol of Pensacola’s African American heritage; it is a testament to the American dream.”
For Sunday’s great-great-granddaughter, the connection is more personal. “The house is over a hundred years old,” said Perkins. “It’s been through hurricanes, floods and tornadoes; but to tear it down to build condominiums?”
Perkins’ frustration was evident in her voice, but so was her determination to save her great-great-grandfather’s home. “I think people need to know what John Sunday did for Pensacola, and I just want people to see this house for what it’s worth. This house can be worked with. This house can be saved.”
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