Ocoee Massacre 1920: Largest Election Day Voting Terror

Ocoee Masacre

It’s been 100 years.One hundred years since Black Americans in a small Florida town tried to exercise their right to vote.One hundred years since that attempt was met with deadly violence, burned homes, and families forced to flee and never return.

The 1920 Ocoee Massacre is the largest single act of Election Day terror in U.S. history. It sits in a long pattern of racial violence used to stop Black political power. As new elections bring reports of long voting lines, threats, and intimidation, the Ocoee story reminds us that voter suppression is not new, and that the right to vote has always come at a cost for Black communities.

The Climate After World War I

To understand Ocoee, we have to look at the years after World War I. Black Americans had fought for the United States since the Revolutionary War, and they answered the call again during WWI. When Black veterans returned home, they expected respect and opportunity—but instead found the opposite.

Jobs were scarce. Housing was tight. Racial tension rose sharply. In 1919, known as the “Red Summer,” white mobs attacked Black communities in dozens of cities. A few years earlier, the 1917 East St. Louis riots had already shown how quickly racist violence could spiral into massacre.

This was the atmosphere heading into the 1920 election: Black communities organizing, asserting their rights, and white supremacists pushing back with fear and violence.

Ocoee, Florida: A Target for Terror

Ocoee, Florida, in Orange County, was widely considered a “sundown town”—a place where Black people were not welcome after dark and where intimidation and violence enforced the color line. Yet in 1920, Black residents made up nearly half of Ocoee’s population.

Among them were Moses “Mose” Norman and Julius “July” Perry, both migrants from South Carolina who had become successful landowners. Perry was a respected community leader, deacon, and labor organizer. Norman owned land and one of the first automobiles in the area. Both men were active in a local fraternal lodge and believed in using the vote to gain fair treatment.

The political landscape had just shifted: the 19th Amendment, ratified in 1920, opened the door for women to vote,at least on paper. For Black men and women, especially in the South, literacy tests, poll taxes, and violence still blocked the ballot. But the amendment sent a clear message: old rules were changing, and that terrified white supremacists.

Election Day 1920: Trying to Vote

Leading up to Election Day, the Ku Klux Klan marched through neighboring Orlando and surrounding areas, warning Black residents to stay away from the polls or face violence. Despite these threats, some Black voters in Ocoee organized and planned to vote.

On November 2, 1920, several Black residents went to the polls and were turned away by poll workers, often under false excuses about unpaid poll taxes or registration problems. Among them was Moses Norman. After he was denied a ballot, he consulted with white Republican attorney and U.S. Senate candidate John Cheney, who reportedly told Norman to return and record the names of officials blocking voters.

Norman went back. He was turned away again and subjected to a search. In one account, white men searched his car and found a shotgun; in another, Norman was beaten as tensions escalated. He narrowly escaped and fled to July Perry’s home, seeking safety.

From Voter Suppression to Massacre

That night, a white mob, some newly deputized and led by local figures, including a former Orlando police chief, went to Perry’s home. They claimed they were there to arrest Norman and Perry. Armed Black men inside the house defended themselves. A gunfight broke out. The mob’s leader, Sam Salisbury, was wounded along with Perry and Perry’s daughter, and two white men were killed.

The mob retreated, enraged, then returned in much greater numbers, drawing reinforcements from Orlando and other parts of Orange County. By then the Perry family had left their home, but the violence was just beginning.

Within the next 24 hours, white mobs spread through the Black neighborhoods of Ocoee—burning homes, churches, and businesses; shooting residents; and chasing survivors into nearby swamps and woods. Estimates of how many Black residents were killed range up to 60 or more, but the exact number remains unknown because death records were incomplete and often manipulated. What is clear: the northern half of Ocoee, where Black residents lived, was systematically destroyed.

July Perry was captured, wounded, taken to Orlando, and then seized from a sheriff’s custody by the mob. He was lynched, shot, and hung from a utility pole as a warning to others. His killing became a brutal symbol of the price Black people could pay for seeking the vote.

“Talking Too Much”: Driving Survivors Out

In the months after the massacre, intimidation continued. Those Black residents who hadn’t already fled were driven out by threats and attacks. One man, George Betsy, was found beaten and chained to an electric pole after talking about what happened. The message was clear: stay silent, or else.

Within a year, almost no Black residents remained in Ocoee. Census records show that for decades afterward, Ocoee stayed overwhelmingly white. Black families did not begin returning in significant numbers until the 1970s. For more than half a century, what happened in Ocoee was not openly discussed, and there was little public acknowledgment of the massacre.

Stolen Land and Profits

After Black families were forced to flee, their land and property did not simply sit empty. Much of it was taken over by white residents and sold off, sometimes openly advertised in local newspapers. Black homeowners received no compensation. Generations of wealth and opportunity were wiped out overnight, with benefits flowing to others who built lives and businesses on stolen ground.

Remembering Ocoee 100 Years Later

For decades, the Ocoee Massacre was barely mentioned in textbooks or local history. Survivors and their descendants carried the trauma, while the wider public remained unaware. It wasn’t until the 1980s and 1990s that the story began to be researched and told more widely.

On the 100th anniversary, historians, activists, and community members have worked to bring this hidden history to light. Special exhibits, memorial events, and public education efforts have helped ensure that the Ocoee Massacre is no longer erased. One example is the History Center’s exhibit on the Ocoee Massacre, which showcases documents, photographs, and personal stories from that day.

Why Ocoee Still Matters

The Ocoee Massacre is not just a story about one town. It is a warning about what can happen when voting rights are denied and violence is used to enforce racial hierarchy.

It reminds us that:

• Voting has never been a “given” for Black Americans—it has been fought for, bled for, and died for.

• Voter suppression can look like poll taxes and mobs—or long lines, misinformation, and threats.

• Silence and erasure allow injustice to repeat itself.

  
  

A century later, as new forms of voter suppression and intimidation appear, remembering Ocoee is not just about the past, it’s about the choices we make now. Telling this story honors those who lost their lives simply for trying to vote, and challenges us to protect the rights they were denied.