Gone But Not Forgotten: Orlando’s “Paupers”

Communities have long struggled with how to care for the less fortunate. Orlando is no exception. Since Greenwood Cemetery’s inception, the City of Orlando has provided burials for those without the means in Section Q. Sometimes called a “pauper” burial ground, “potter’s field,” or even a “strangers’ row,” this section contains the unmarked graves of those who lived and died in Orlando but whose individual stories are lost to us. 

The term “potter’s field” has biblical origins which, according to a 1970 Carey Hand Chapel advertisement, lies in the betrayal of Jesus by Judas who then, distraught, committed suicide. The money Judas had taken from the Romans in return for his betrayal was used to purchase the infertile field of a potter that was from then on used as a place to bury “strangers and the friendless poor.”¹  

Starting in 1893, the city contracted with Orlando funeral home director Elijah Hand to inter the bodies of deceased “paupers” at Greenwood Cemetery for a fee of $5 each, roughly equivalent to $180 today.² Elijah’s son, Carey Hand, took over the business in 1914 and continued the city contract. The Hand family was among the first undertakers in Orlando. They built furniture alongside coffins in their Pine Street store. Elijah Hand was the first embalmer in town, and Carey Hand built the first crematorium in the South.³ The majority of these burials were fundamental with the least expensive coffins, no frills during funeral services, and gravesites were usually unmarked. Out of the 290 burials of this type in Section Q, only 25 have markers. Carey Hand later continued the contract, though the expenses grew with inflation. To meet the requirements for a city-provided burial, individuals needed to be deemed sufficiently impoverished or have no one come forward to claim their bodies.  

Tucked away in the far back corner of the original cemetery layout, Section Q houses those who society neglected, like William Polkins, a 76-year-old man who died in police custody. According to an Orlando Morning Sentinel article in 1940, an unidentified man became ill at the bus station and was taken to a charity police cell for the night. The next morning, the man was found dead in his cell. His fingerprints were sent to Washington, D.C., for identification which later revealed the man to be Polkins.⁴ The undertaker’s memorandum notes that Polkins died of respiratory failure and cancer of the throat, but that his death was possibly due to an overdose of sedatives.⁵ Polkins was buried with no frills. His entire burial, in a single grave, cost the city $15. The account was guaranteed by J. Stone of the police department, who may have been the police officer who brought Polkins in.⁶ William Polkins is one of many buried in Section Q with no marker. 

The Carey Hand Undertaker’s Memoranda housed in the University of Central Florida Special Archives Collection shows many examples of individuals who were unable to afford a standard burial in Greenwood Cemetery, such as for baby Georgia Hayes whose family is noted as being “very poor.”⁷ On July 5, 1932, George Hayes was driving with his 19-month-old daughter, Georgia, near Westmoreland Drive and Robinson Street in Orlando when his car collided with another vehicle in what was deemed an “unavoidable” accident. The car overturned in the collision and baby Georgia was reportedly “crushed beneath it.”⁸ One can only imagine the grief felt by Hayes, when he buried his child just two days after her death. He did manage to find the means to pay for some enhancements to his daughter’s funeral, including a headstone, a rarity among the burials in Section Q.  

Suicide as a cause of death is not uncommon in the records for Section Q at Greenwood Cemetery. Due to the complicated reasons that brought these individuals to such a desperate place, most stories of suicide were swept out of public view swiftly, however, one case stuck out given its mysterious nature. On May 21, 1926, the body of a man was found in Lake Eola, his house slippers and an old, gray felt hat carefully left on the shore. His death was ruled a suicide, but his identity proved puzzling. He was identified as Bert Smith by roommates at the boarding house where he had been staying.⁹ However, in trying to locate Smith’s next of kin, it was discovered that “Bert Smith” was an alias for a former U.S. Army Veteran of the First World War named Arthur Vineyard.¹⁰ No details regarding why Vineyard was living under an assumed name, or any other details related to his death were publicly released.  

One last story of an individual buried in Section Q comes from the darker side of Orlando’s past. In 1944, convict Bonard “Jimmy” Retherford escaped his life sentence at Raiford Prison and headed straight to take revenge on the man who had put him behind bars, Orlando police Sergeant Cloyce Palmer. Originally, Retherford had been sentenced to death for kidnapping nine years previously but had been paroled in 1943.¹¹ Upon his release, Sgt. Palmer arrested him for automobile theft and larceny. Retherford had warned Palmer that he would be back, and he kept his word. On April 6, Retherford took a taxi to the Palmer home armed with a 32-caliber pistol and the intent to take Palmer’s life. When Palmer opened the door, Retherford told him, “Make a move, and I’ll kill you.” Palmer, however, fought back and during the struggle for control of the pistol, Retherford was mortally wounded by a gunshot wound to the head.¹² The undertaker’s records indicate that they were unable to contact any of Retherford’s next of kin, so he was buried by the city in Section Q in an unmarked grave.¹³  

Whatever the reason for their burial in this once-hidden corner of Greenwood Cemetery, it is important to remember these individuals and the realities of life, and death, in Orlando’s past.  

1. “Carey Hand Advertisement,” Orlando Sentinel, July 14, 1970, C12.; Kristen Martin, “Abolishing the Prison of the Dead: How New York City’s Potter’s Field Acquired Its Mythos—and How We Can Break It Down.” The Baffler, no. 48 (2019): 129, accessed March 22, 2024, https://www.jstor.org/stable/26842294  

2. Eve Bacon, Orlando: A Centennial History (Chuluota: Mickler House Publishers, 1975), I: 192, 194.; “Value of $5 from 1895 to 2023,” CPI Inflation Calculator, accessed July 17, 2023, https://www.officialdata.org/us/inflation/1895?amount=5

3. “Cary Hand Funeral Home,” Orlando Memory, March 10, 2023, accessed March 22, 2024, https://orlandomemory.info/places/carey-hand-funeral-home/ ; William Fremont, Blackman, "History of Orange County, Florida: Narrative and biographical" (1927). Text Materials of Central Florida, 475, accessed March 22, 2024, https://stars.library.ucf.edu/cfm-texts/110

4. “Unidentified Man Dies in Charity Police Cell,” Orlando Morning Sentinel, February 27, 1940, 12.  

5. Carey Hand Funeral Home, “Polkins, William” (1940), Carey Hand Undertaker's Memoranda, 28, accessed July 17, 2023, https://stars.library.ucf.edu/cfm-ch-memoranda-1940/167  

6. “Polkins,” Memoranda.

7. Carey Hand Funeral Home, “Hayes, Georgia V.” (1932), Carey Hand Undertaker's Memoranda, 28, accessed July 17, 2023, https://stars.library.ucf.edu/cfm-ch-memoranda-1932/314

8. “Unavoidable Death is Verdict,” Orlando Morning Sentinel, July 9, 1932, 3.

9. “Man’s Body Found in Lake Eola is that of B. Smith,” Orlando Morning Sentinel, May 22, 1926, 1.

10. “Army Discharge Papers Establish Fact That Man Was Arthur Vineyard, Former Cavalry Officer,” Orlando Morning Sentinel, May 25, 1926, 3. 

11. Florida Division of Corrections, “Florida State Prison Register: R, 1875-1959,” State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory, entry for Bonard Retherford, 38, accessed July 17, 2023, https://www.floridamemory.com/items/show/346600 

12. “Came to Kill Policeman, but Dies Himself,” Orlando Evening Star, April 7, 1944, 1.

13. Carey Hand Funeral Home, “Retherford, Bonard Jimmie” (1944), Carey Hand Undertaker's Memoranda, 28, accessed July 17, 2023, https://stars.library.ucf.edu/cfm-ch-memoranda-1944/224/