After the Civil War, the Pensacola Lighthouse underwent a visible transformation. Originally painted entirely white, it was given a new color scheme in 1869: white on the bottom to stand out against the trees, and black on the top to cut through the clouds. A practical decision that now seems metaphorically loaded.
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The tower’s new paint job marked a new era, in which newly freed African Americans began to lay the foundations of a new kind of prosperity and power. Now, a new exhibit is shedding light on this lesser-known part of the region’s past. Hart’s Hammock traces the lives of Black families who lived and worked near the Pensacola Lighthouse in the decades after the Civil War—building prosperity and power in the shadow of slavery.
"It was here where all the money was being made," Olaf Talbert said. "This is where all these successful families were being created and started and getting their foundation."
Talbert is a retired Navy pilot, now curator at the Pensacola Lighthouse and the lead researcher behind the exhibit. He said the project grew out of an archaeological survey in 2017, when researchers uncovered brick footings, marbles, buttons, and other household items just west of the lighthouse.
"The base was conducting archaeological surveys," he recalled, "and they basically asked the lighthouse staff did they have anything that they wanted the surveyors to come take a look at."
What started as a routine survey turned into a window into the past. Oral histories and public records helped identify one of the families who had once lived there—the Harts. Their story is at the heart of the new exhibit.
Charles Hart, a Union Army veteran, settled here in the 1860s with his wife, Winnie. They raised fourteen children on the property.
"Charles was a minister," Talbert said, "and he helped found one of the first churches on base in this area called New Smyrna Primitive Baptist Church, which is still active today."
For Black families like the Harts, the lighthouse and the nearby Navy Yard weren’t just workplaces. They were engines of stability and advancement. These were among the few institutions offering Black workers skilled jobs—and federal protections—in the decades after emancipation.
"The Navy Yard was the economic driver for this entire area," Talbert said, "and the reason why that was is because most of the labor at the Navy Yard had to be skilled labor ... It was (also) federal land so you did not pay rent and you didn't pay taxes."
The result? Families who turned labor into land, and land into lasting legacy — the kind of security that was rare for Black communities in the South.
The Wingate family followed a similar path. Brothers Aaron and Charles Wingate became assistant lighthouse keepers in 1879. Their work helped lay the foundation for the family’s later success as landowners.
"Wingate Beach was one of the only two black beaches in the Pensacola area from the 1940s until the late 1970s," Talbert said.
The beach, established on land owned by the Wingates, became a cherished gathering place for Black families across the Southeast during segregation.
Richard Morris, another early resident, became head lighthouse keeper in 1874—a rare title for a Black man during Reconstruction. His family later founded Joe Morris and Sons Funeral Home, which is still in operation.
Even as these families prospered, the institutions they worked for were born of slavery. Talbert notes that most of the Navy Yard was built by enslaved people. The lighthouse likely was, as well, though records on this point are scarce.
"We have not yet found anything that says slave labor built either the Lighthouse in 1824 or the current lighthouse built in 1859," Talbert said, "but just common sense says most likely if you're using that labor on everything else you're probably going to use that labor on that as well."
The contrast is hard to ignore: structures raised through exploitation later becoming platforms for empowerment. It's a tension that lies at the heart of Hart's Hammock.
The free exhibit currently features interpretive panels on the Harts, Wingates, and Morrises, as well as a replica of the Hart family home. Plans for a future phase include the display of artifacts unearthed during ongoing archaeological surveys—items like buttons, toys, and tools that once belonged to the families who lived here.
"We're trying to tell the story of our lighthouse and its relationship with Pensacola through the lens of these families' histories," Talbert said.
In doing so, Hart’s Hammock reframes the lighthouse as not just a navigational aid—but a beacon of opportunity during a dark and stormy period of American history.
