An examination of the understudied, yet significant role of Florida and its populace during the Civil War. In many respects Florida remains the forgotten state of the Confederacy. Journalist Horace Greeley once referred to Florida in the Civil War as the “smallest tadpole in the dirty pool of secession.” Although it was the third state to secede, Florida’s small population and meager industrial resources made the state of little strategic importance. Because it was the site of only one major battle, it has, with a few exceptions, been overlooked within the field of Civil War studies. During the Civil War, more than fifteen thousand Floridians served the Confederacy, a third of which were lost to combat and disease. The Union also drew the service of another twelve hundred white Floridians and more than a thousand free blacks and escaped slaves. Florida had more than eight thousand miles of coastline to defend, and eventually found itself with Confederates holding the interior and Federals occupying the coasts—a tenuous state of affairs for all. Florida’s substantial Hispanic and Catholic populations shaped wartime history in ways unique from many other states. Florida also served as a valuable supplier of cattle, salt, cotton, and other items to the blockaded South. A Forgotten Front: Florida during the Civil War Era provides a much-needed overview of the Civil War in Florida. Editors Seth A. Weitz and Jonathan C. Sheppard provide insight into a commonly neglected area of Civil War historiography. The essays in this volume examine the most significant military engagements and the guerrilla warfare necessitated by the occupied coastline. Contributors look at the politics of war, beginning with the decade prior to the outbreak of the war through secession and wartime leadership and examine the period through the lenses of race, slavery, women, religion, ethnicity, and historical memory.

Some vols. include reports of the various state agencies.

The books in the Florida and the Caribbean Open Books Series demonstrate the University Press of Florida’s long history of publishing Latin American and Caribbean studies titles that connect in and through Florida, highlighting the connections between the Sunshine State and its neighboring islands. Books in this series show how early explorers found and settled Florida and the Caribbean. They tell the tales of early pioneers, both foreign and domestic. They examine topics critical to the area such as travel, migration, economic opportunity, and tourism. They look at the growth of Florida and the Caribbean and the attendant pressures on the environment, culture, urban development, and the movement of peoples, both forced and voluntary. The Florida and the Caribbean Open Books Series gathers the rich data available in these architectural, archaeological, cultural, and historical works, as well as the travelogues and naturalists’ sketches of the area prior to the twentieth century, making it accessible for scholars and the general public alike. The Florida and the Caribbean Open Books Series is made possible through a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, under the Humanities Open Books program.

Freedom did not solve the problems of the Proctor family. Nor did money, recognition, or powerful supporters. As free blacks in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century America, three generations of Proctor men were permanently handicapped by the social structures of their time and their place. They subscribed to the Western, middle-class value system that taught that hard work, personal rectitude, and maintenance of family life would lead to happiness and prosperity. But for them it did not—no matter how hard they worked, how clever their plans, or how powerful their white patrons. The eldest, Antonio, born a Spanish slave, became a soldier for three nations and received government recognition for his daring and his skills as a translator. His son, George, an entrepreneur, achieved material success in the building trade but was so hampered by his status as a free black that he eventually lost not only his position in the community but his family. John, George's son, seized the opportunity proffered by Reconstruction and spent ten years in the Florida state legislature before segregation forced him to return to the life of a tradesman. Warner describes the Proctor men as "inarticulate." They left no personal papers and no indication of their attitudes toward their hardships. As a result, this work relies heavily on local government documents and oral history. Inference and intimation become vital tools in the search for the Proctors. In important ways the author has produced a case study of nontraditional methodology, and he suggests new ways of describing and analyzing inarticulate populations. The Proctors were not typical of the black population of their era and their location, yet the story of their lives broadens our knowledge of the black experience in America.