In the 1890s, Frank Stranahan arrived at a small New River settlement from Toledo, Ohio to manage the ferry crossing and mail route. Within a year, he opened a trading post. The Seminoles began arriving by the dozens, sometimes in canoes filled with pelts, produce, beadwork, and hides. They trusted Frank, even choosing to camp nearby and leave their weapons with him before heading to town.
Frank became one of South Florida’s wealthiest men. But his real legacy lies in the relationships he built with the Seminole people. He refused to sell alcohol, offered credit when needed, and built a shelter near the river as a dormitory for visiting families. His wife, Ivy Julia Cromartie Stranahan, was the area’s first schoolteacher. At first, Seminole children avoided the white woman, but over time Ivy earned their trust—teaching them letters on the back porch using bright church posters instead of formal textbooks.
She told the children, “We don’t want to make you like us. We just want to give you education, so that you can make the best of what you are.”
And then there’s this funny story: After Frank introduced a wax-cylinder phonograph to play music, one Seminole man listened, turned pale, gathered his family and declared, “Go! No like canned man.” He thought someone was trapped in the machine, like the canned goods they had recently been introduced to.
Despite their goodwill, the Stranahans lived through deeply unstable times. The land boom crashed. Frank, struggling with financial ruin and illness, became increasingly despondent. In 1929, he tied a gate weight to his ankle and jumped into the New River, ending his life just outside the home he had built.
Ivy stayed. She kept up her advocacy for Seminole rights, helped establish the Dania Reservation in 1926, and later organized the “Friends of the Seminoles” to continue the work. She lived in that same house until 1971.
The house still stands in Fort Lauderdale today, nestled among towering buildings along the river. A little piece of Old Florida, tucked between progress and pavement. It holds the memory of two remarkable people who chose to build bridges, not walls.
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