When David Clark ’86, Ransom Everglades’ Chief Operating Officer, walks around the Upper School campus, he sees concrete and glass buildings, but if he closes his eyes and looks back on his youth, he sees a different world. He remembers a time when Coconut Grove was home to a thriving Bahamian community along Le Jeune Road, when shotgun houses with green trim and white shutters lined the streets, and neighbors gathered, sharing laughter and stories, in a close-knit neighborhood.
In the heart of his enclave stood Mr. Clark’s own family home, a warm and welcoming shotgun house, where his grandparents raised their children. But his house was also more than just a home. Like other shotgun houses in the area, it was a symbol of Bahamian identity and a space in which his community’s heritage and traditions took root.
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Bahamians first moved to Florida in the 1800s as laborers and craftsmen, playing a key role in the construction of homes and churches in Coconut Grove. In addition to contributing to Miami’s development, they built their own neighborhood. At its core was the shotgun house.
These Bahamians had lived through the harsh Atlantic winds and hurricanes of the tropical climate, so they applied their knowledge to design homes that could withstand Miami’s similar weather conditions.
Typically, shotgun houses are 12-foot-wide, one-story homes with open gabled or hipped roofs, a front porch, and a chimney. The interior consists of three rooms arranged in a straight line, each separated by doors. The living room is the first room, the bedroom the second, and the kitchen and bathroom are the third. Designs of shotgun houses vary; some are duplex or two-storied structures. Most of the houses still standing in the Grove, however, are one-story.
According to Mrs. Katrina Patchett, Ransom Everglades’ Director of Libraries and Archivist, this linear alignment of rooms promotes airflow, cooling the interior without air conditioning and preventing the moisture buildup that fosters bacteria. This uninterrupted breeze makes the porch the perfect spot to relax, as the breeze coming out of the back door hits your back.
In addition to an interior design conducive to natural cooling, shotgun houses have a four-foot crawl space underneath the structure, allowing air to travel beneath the structure which enhances ventilation.
Built using Dade County Pine, a termite-resistant wood suited for tropical climates, shotgun houses are built to endure harsh conditions. Some are elevated on stilts, reducing the risk of flooding during hurricanes and rainfall. This design proved to be helpful during Hurricane Andrew in 1992, when many shotgun houses survived due to their structure.
Some say you could fire a single bullet through the front door, and it would pass through every room and exit the back, without any damage. But the name “shotgun houses” more directly derives from the Yoruba word “to-gun,” meaning a “place of assembly.”
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Among the many settlers in Coconut Grove was David W. Clark, the great-grandfather of Mr. Clark. David W. Clark and his family built a home on Le Jeune Road, where they raised the maternal side of Mr. Clark’s family. Clark’s grandfather started Christ Episcopal Church as a gathering place for the Bahamian community.
“My family wanted to be in a place among other Bahamian people,” Mr. Clark said. “It’s hard to go somewhere new and not see anyone who looks like you, so many people just migrated to Coconut Grove because there were opportunities—affordable housing, jobs, and a chance to build a life.”
Mr. Clark’s grandfather was a garbage collector, and his grandmother was a housekeeper. Mr. Clark’s mother attended George Washington Carver Middle School, one of the few schools in South Florida open to African American students during the era of segregation, but had to drop out to take care of her family.
During Mr. Clark’s teenage years, “people who were not Black would avoid walking through our neighborhood,” he said. “I don’t think I ever saw a white person walking through the area.”
Reflecting on his youth, he said he worries about the possibility of segregation returning—if not in the law, at least in everyday life. “There’s this murmur in the back of my head of people speaking about the separation of races,” he said. “We have so many different people here who contribute so much to who we are. If we don’t learn to accept them for who they are and what they bring, I think we’re in big trouble.”
While he was growing up, Mr. Clark’s parents moved to Richmond Heights, but he continued to visit his grandparents in Coconut Grove every Sunday for church.
“We didn’t have many educated people, so the church was the main source of information,” Mr. Clark said. “It was where you went if you needed support—whether it was financial help or assistance with a sick family member.”
Mr. Clark remembers the church that his great grandfather founded being crucial to community events—especially the Goombay Festival, a day celebrating Bahamian culture through food, music, and dancing. He recalls his grandparents selling traditional Bahamian Conch salad to his neighbors during the festival, everyone indulging in beverages under the hot sun in a space filled with laughter and conversation.
“On a regular Sunday, before or even while football came on, you’d see maybe 20 or 25 people outside sitting in their front yard talking,” Mr. Clark remembered. “There were always people outside, which was cool since there wasn’t enough room inside for everyone.”
He can picture his grandfather’s shotgun house like it was yesterday.
“We’d have 30 or 40 people in the cul-de-sac. My parents would play cards, and we’d play sports or hide and seek outside. We’d enjoy traditional meals like salads and fried fish, eat together, then head outside to have a big family gathering.”
Ms. Dora Stephens, the Middle School Bookstore Assistant, who lived in a duplex shotgun house in Coconut Grove, felt that “back then the community felt like more of the atmosphere we had back in the Bahamas. It makes you want to pack up your bags and go back.”
For Mr. Clark, the most important part of being in the community was being able to understand it, knowing that his grandparents lived in the house on Le Jeune Road. “Living in that house made it important for us to come up every Sunday and visit. She knew that building family around our grandparents, who sacrificed so much to get where they did, was really important.”
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For the past 15 years, developers have made extensive changes to the landscape of Coconut Grove, replacing historic sites with buildings and stores. This has led to a decline in the number of shotgun houses, contributing to long-term residents moving out and newcomers moving in.
Mr. Clark’s family witnessed the gradual deconstruction of the neighborhood they once called home. “Different parts of Coconut Grove were disappearing, and it was only a matter of time before people bought out the area,” Mr. Clark said.
Today, much of his old neighborhood has been replaced, now occupied by the Merrick Park Shopping Center on San Lorenzo Avenue.
To this day, Mr. Clark’s mother refuses to shop there. “My mom drives by there all the time,” Mr. Clark said.” She wishes she could see her home again, but now she can’t.” His previous home, at 4817 42nd Avenue, is now occupied by Bermello Ajamil & Partners Inc., a global architecture and engineering firm.
Mr. Clark hopes the community will take time to understand and appreciate what Coconut Grove was built from. “I hope that people who see Bahamian culture happening, will stop and take the time to get to know it. People need to have a genuine interest in the culture for it to stay alive.”
Efforts are being made to preserve Coconut Grove’s legacy. Nearly 50 shotgun houses have been preserved and declared historic landmarks under Miami’s preservation board. But owners and investors are still pushing for demolition to make way for modern architectural projects.
Patchett said that Coconut Grove has a responsibility to maintain the city’s identity. “We must remember what has happened in the past, and those who were a part of it, in order to move forward in the future,” she said. “We must acknowledge the pain and suffering woven into history. Their stories hold such significance, and they should be preserved. It’s about respecting their heritage, people, and their story.”
