Oaklawn Cemetery

The story

Deeded in 1850 with an uncharacteristically progressive mandate for its era—designated as Tampa's first public burial ground 'for white and slave, rich and poor'—Oaklawn is where the young frontier city buried everyone it lost. Beneath the canopy of moss-draped live oaks right in the middle of downtown, you are walking across a cross-section of 19th-century chaos: victims of yellow fever epidemics buried in quick succession alongside pioneer leaders like Tampa's first mayor, Joseph B., and French privateers like Jose Perfino.

The real draw for crime history obsessives, though, is plot-hunting for Charlie Wall. Decades before Santo Trafficante Jr. dominated Florida organized crime, Wall was the unchallenged kingpin of Tampa’s underworld, running the lucrative illegal Bolita numbers rackets and buying off local politicians throughout the 1930s. His reign ended violently in 1955 when he was brutally murdered in his own home—his throat cut in an unsolved mob hit—and laid to rest here among the very city founders he used to pay off.

What makes Oaklawn strange isn't just who is buried here, but how tightly packed the contradictions are. In a single shaded downtown block framed by modern glass high-rises, 19th-century sea privateers, corrupt syndicate bosses, yellow fever victims, and enslaved laborers share the same ground.