Kapitel 4
The Groveland Powder Keg: A Case Ignites
On July 15, 1949, seventeen-year-old Norma Lee Padgett and her estranged husband Willie, 23, were drinking at a Clermont, Florida American Legion hall. That night, Army veterans Samuel Shepherd and Walter Irvin, both 22, stopped to help the couple with their broken-down Ford. When Willie used racial slurs during the encounter, Samuel overpowered him, leaving him in a ditch.
By morning, Norma claimed four Black men had kidnapped and raped her, though her story had inconsistencies. Lawrence Burtoft, who found her, later testified she was calm and said her kidnappers hadn't harmed her. The reunion with Willie was notably unemotional.
Sheriff Willis McCall, hearing of "a white housewife raped by four negroes," ordered deputies to hide the suspects, knowing a lynch mob was forming. Samuel Shepherd and Walter Irvin were quickly transported to Florida State Prison while McCall confronted 125 armed men heading to Tavares jail.
Sixteen-year-old Charles Greenlee, newly arrived from Gainesville with Ernest Thomas seeking work, was arrested at the train depot despite having no connection to the incident. Though Willie Padgett twice denied Charles's involvement, Norma contradicted him. At Tavares jail, deputies Campbell and Yates brutally beat Charles until he falsely confessed.
The accusations sparked terror in Groveland's Black community. Hundreds fled on citrus trucks or into pine forests as a mob of 250 white men gathered, firing shots into a Black-owned juke joint. Ernest Thomas fled north by bus, while the night's violence signaled the mob's continuing thirst for vengeance.
Kapitel 5
Sheriff McCall: The Law and the Lawless
Willis McCall, Lake County born and bred, rose from humble beginnings as a dirt farmer's son to become sheriff in 1944, backed by powerful citrus barons. He immediately staged raids on slot machines to establish his reputation, while allowing the more lucrative bolita lottery to flourish in Black communities-a business many suspected lined his pockets.
McCall's true focus was labor control, enforcing "work or fight" laws that essentially trapped Black workers in debt peonage through excessive fines. When workers attempted to organize or protest conditions, McCall responded with brutal force, arresting union organizers and intimidating workers. Despite FBI investigations into civil rights violations, witnesses mysteriously disappeared, leaving McCall untouchable and increasingly emboldened.
The sheriff's hard-line stance against unions and Blacks helped him win reelection, with the Ku Klux Klan holding five rallies in Lake County before Election Day. On election eve, 250 hooded Klansmen formed a motorcade through Lake County warning Blacks not to vote, with McCall trailing behind in his Oldsmobile, making no attempt to interfere when they burned crosses.
In the aftermath of the alleged rape, McCall arranged for Charles Greenlee's secret transfer to Raiford State Prison, disguising him as a trusty with a scythe. Later, McCall was alarmed by a false report that one prisoner had been lynched, but confirmed all three suspects were safely behind bars. Meeting with reporters, McCall projected confidence, claiming he had three confessions and would have a fourth if he hadn't been busy preventing a lynching.
At sunset on July 18, a mob of over one hundred armed men set up roadblocks near Groveland, firing indiscriminately into Black homes. Joe Maxwell, a military veteran, hid his family under mattresses as shotgun fire shattered his windows. McCall fired tear gas to disperse the mob but struggled to maintain control. Rather than making arrests, McCall struck a deal with mob leader Flowers Cockcroft and ordered the National Guard to withdraw.
The mob proceeded to torch homes in Bay Lake, including Samuel Shepherd's house. When Lieutenant Colonel Harry Baya arrived with 200 guardsmen, McCall refused to identify any perpetrators despite knowing the ringleaders. Cockcroft warned they would "clean out every Negro section in south Lake County" once the Guard left.
British economist Terence McCarthy, studying the aftermath, concluded whites were less concerned about avenging Norma Padgett's alleged rape than eliminating independent Black farmers who threatened "the whole system of servitude and forced labor" underpinning the local economy.
Kapitel 6
Harry T. Moore: Florida's Fearless Fighter
Seventy-five miles east of Lake County lived Harry T. Moore, the NAACP's executive secretary in Florida. For over a decade, Moore had been organizing meetings, raising funds, and investigating lynchings across Florida without pay, while working as a teacher until he and his wife Harriette were fired in 1946 for his activism.
The Moores lived in a three-bedroom wooden house Harry built in 1926, set on eleven acres with an orange grove. Born in 1905, Moore founded the Brevard County NAACP chapter in 1934 and first connected with Thurgood Marshall in 1937 when he wrote to the national office about a teacher pay equality lawsuit. Marshall visited Moore's home in Mims multiple times as they prepared the case, developing mutual respect and complementary working styles.
Florida recorded more lynchings of Black people (266) from 1882 to 1930 than any other state, with a per capita rate twice that of Mississippi, Georgia, or Louisiana between 1900 and 1930. Despite this shocking violence, Florida's crimes received little media scrutiny beyond Black newspapers.
When the Groveland case erupted, Moore immediately recognized Sheriff McCall's complicity in the violence against Black homes and property. On July 20, 1949, Moore telegraphed Governor Fuller Warren urging "prosecution of mob leaders responsible for terrorism and vandalism against innocent Negro citizens of Lake County."
Meanwhile, bloodhounds had tracked Ernest Thomas, the fourth Groveland Boy, to a cypress swamp in northern Florida where Sheriff McCall led over a thousand armed men in pursuit. When spotted running across a field, Thomas fled as men on horseback fired at him "like you see in a western movie." After running twenty-five miles, an exhausted Thomas fell asleep against a tree near Moseley Hall. When discovered, the posse fired a volley of shots, killing him instantly.
The coroner found Thomas had multiple bullet wounds including shots to his head, temple, and forehead, with estimates of nearly 400 slugs in his body. Despite questionable evidence, the coroner's jury ruled his death justifiable homicide. Afterward, McCall gave Norma Padgett a .38-caliber slug from Thomas's body as a token.
Kapitel 7
Marshall Takes the Case: The NAACP's Response
Franklin Williams, Marshall's assistant special counsel, convinced him that the Groveland case resembled a "Little Scottsboro" and required NAACP intervention. Williams traveled to Orlando to investigate, immediately facing the practical challenges of finding accommodations in Jim Crow Florida. The Negro Motorist Green Book confirmed his fears-not a single hotel in Lake County would house Black travelers.
Williams secured a room at an Orlando "tourist home" where he fortuitously met Joe Louis, who donated $500 to the defense after learning about the case. Meanwhile, Marshall publicly attached his name to the case, demanding a federal investigation into Ernest Thomas's killing, which he called "worse than a lynching."
Williams recruited two young Black Florida attorneys-William Fordham from Tampa and reluctant 24-year-old Horace Hill from Daytona Beach-to join the defense team. On July 29, they drove to Florida State Prison with Hill's wife Dorothy serving as stenographer. Williams was shocked by the defendants' condition two weeks after their arrest-their heads still caked with dried blood, faces and bodies bearing severe bruises and wounds.
The men described horrific torture: Samuel Shepherd and Walter Irvin had been beaten on a deserted road, then taken to the Tavares jail basement where they were handcuffed to overhead pipes and whipped with rubber hoses. After relentless beatings, Shepherd falsely confessed, while Irvin refused despite worse treatment.
Upon returning to New York, Williams briefed Marshall on the Groveland Boys' case. Marshall immediately increased the NAACP's commitment, instructing Williams to find the best local lawyer available and announcing to the press that "the resources of the association will be thrown behind the defense of these boys."
FBI Special Agents John L. Quigley and Tobias E. Matthews conducted a thorough investigation at Raiford prison, interviewing and photographing Shepherd, Irvin, and Greenlee. Their findings prompted J. Edgar Hoover to order a "full and exhaustive investigation." The agents discovered disturbing inconsistencies between the prisoners' accounts and those of Sheriff Willis McCall, deputies James Yates and Leroy Campbell, and Wesley Evans.
Prison officials had documented "numerous bruised marks," cut wounds, broken teeth, and bloodstained clothes when the prisoners arrived, contradicting law enforcement claims that they observed no injuries. The investigation revealed Lake County was controlled not by politics or money, but by the Ku Klux Klan intent on maintaining racial hierarchy through violence.
Kapitel 8
The First Trial: Justice Denied
As the Groveland Boys trial approached in late August 1949, reporters from across the country descended on Tavares to cover what the press called "Little Scottsboro." Franklin Williams had no illusions about the trial's outcome, telling Marshall, "I never believed that we would have anything but a verdict of guilty... I hoped that we might get life rather than death."
Jury selection completed on September 2, with all Black potential jurors systematically excluded. The all-white jury was terrible for the defense, though Williams had established on record the systematic exclusion of Blacks from jury service, positioning them well for appeal.
The trial continued with Norma Padgett's dramatic testimony. Dressed in a dark party dress with corsage and bolero, she promenaded to the witness box with surprising confidence. When asked to identify her attackers, she slowly pointed at each defendant, deliberately drawling "The nigger Shepherd... the nigger Irvin... the nigger Greenlee."
Deputy James Yates then testified that tire tracks from Shepherd's car and footprints matching Irvin's shoes were found at the crime scene, having made "plaster Paris casts" using FBI procedures. The prosecution offered no medical evidence of rape despite Norma Padgett's examination, with Hunter claiming it was "not necessary" to avoid embarrassing her.
The defense called all three defendants. Shepherd and Irvin testified about their broken car, drinking in Eatonville, and returning home. Greenlee, a "tall, gangly, overgrown country kid," gave a compelling, naive account of his first weekend in Groveland, describing his confusion at being jailed, the gathering mob, and his fear when someone threatened him with a knife.
After brief deliberation, the jury returned with a guilty verdict for all three defendants, with a recommendation of mercy only for sixteen-year-old Greenlee, sparing him from the electric chair. Williams gripped Greenlee's hand as the boy smiled with "boyish triumph," while hope vanished from Shepherd and Irvin's eyes as they faced death sentences.
Kapitel 9
The Long Road to Justice: Appeals and Setbacks
Marshall and Williams strategically decided not to include Greenlee in their appeal, reasoning that his life sentence represented the maximum mercy possible and a retrial might result in execution. Greenlee consented in writing and was sent to a road gang camp to begin his sentence.
Despite the guilty verdicts, Lake County faced waves of negative publicity following the trial. Ted Poston's "Horror in the Sunny South" series in the New York Post gained national attention, particularly his account of being chased by a "bloodthirsty, motorized mob" after the trial.
The FBI investigations and Poston's reporting prompted Marshall to contact the Attorney General's office requesting federal prosecution of deputies Yates and Campbell, Captain Herlong, and Flowers Cockcroft for civil rights violations. Though Alexander Campbell from the Attorney General's office acknowledged "substantial evidence" of torture, U.S. Attorney Herbert Phillips in Tampa refused to prosecute.
As the 1940s closed, Marshall and his Legal Defense Fund attorneys prepared for their most productive period, working not only on the Groveland appeal but also on two long-awaited Supreme Court cases: Sweatt v. Painter and McLaurin v. Oklahoma State Regents. On April 3-4, 1950, Marshall presented the Sweatt case so compellingly that he faced no questions he hadn't anticipated.
Weeks after Charles Hamilton Houston's death (Marshall's mentor), the Supreme Court announced unanimous decisions in Sweatt and McLaurin. Marshall immediately called Heman Sweatt, exclaiming "We won the big one!" and joking that "the state will have to age law schools like good whiskey."
The New York Times declared the decisions left Plessy v. Ferguson in "tatters," and some justices privately concluded that these cases had sealed Jim Crow's fate. Marshall celebrated with a victory party at the midtown office-"lots of Scotch and bourbon, clouds of cigarette smoke, lots of laughter and noise."
Meanwhile, journalist Norman Bunin became obsessed with the Groveland case after noticing discrepancies in testimony. He meticulously investigated by reading trial transcripts, driving the routes to verify timelines, and interviewing witnesses the defense hadn't found. Most significantly, he tracked down Lawrence Burtoft, who claimed Norma Padgett appeared calm after the alleged rape and stated her kidnappers hadn't harmed her.
On November 27, 1950, the Supreme Court agreed to hear the Groveland Boys case. On April 9, 1951, the Court overturned the convictions of Samuel Shepherd and Walter Irvin in a per curiam decision. Justice Robert Jackson wrote a scathing concurring opinion, joined by Justice Frankfurter, condemning Lake County officials and concluding that the case represented "one of the best examples of one of the worst menaces to American justice."
Kapitel 10
The Sheriff's Vengeance: Murder on a Dark Road
On November 6, 1951, while Marshall was still in New York planning to fly to Orlando the next day, Samuel Shepherd and Walter Irvin were taken from Raiford prison by Sheriff Willis McCall and Deputy James Yates. Instead of taking the direct route to Lake County jail, McCall drove down dark back roads where Deputy Yates had gone ahead in a separate car.
The next morning, Thurgood Marshall received a shocking call from Alex Akerman: "We don't have any more case, because you don't have any more defendants. They were killed tonight by the sheriff." Greenberg awoke to newspaper headlines announcing that McCall had shot both men, killing Shepherd while Irvin was critically wounded. The sheriff claimed they had tried to escape.
In the hospital room, Walter Irvin delivered his shocking testimony with special investigator Jefferson Elliott, Marshall, and reporters present. Though weak with a feeding tube taped to his face, Irvin spoke lucidly, describing how Sheriff McCall ordered the handcuffed prisoners to fix a tire. When they began to exit the car, McCall suddenly shot Shepherd, then immediately shot Irvin twice.
Pretending to be dead, Irvin heard McCall radio Deputy Yates saying, "I got rid of them, killed the sons of bitches." When Yates arrived and discovered Irvin was still alive, he said, "This nigger is not dead. We better kill this son of a bitch." Yates then attempted to shoot Irvin, his gun initially misfiring before successfully shooting Irvin in the neck.
The story exploded across national headlines. The Soviet foreign minister Andrei Vishinsky used the incident to criticize American human rights at the United Nations, brandishing a copy of the New York Post's coverage while mocking, "This is what human rights means in the United States!"
Despite initial reports that Governor Fuller Warren agreed with State Attorney Jesse Hunter's recommendation that McCall be suspended or resign, the sheriff checked himself out of the hospital and drove to Jacksonville for a secret meeting with Warren. The governor, already embroiled in gambling scandals, quickly capitulated to McCall.
Judge W. Troy Hall's coroner's inquest began November 9 with a viewing of Samuel Shepherd's body. The next day, Walter Irvin testified from his hospital bed, maintaining his consistent account of the shooting. The proceedings then moved to the roadside scene, where Judge Hall guided his friend Sheriff McCall through a favorable reconstruction of events.
The FBI discovered crucial evidence-a bullet buried ten inches deep in the soil directly beneath where Irvin had lain bleeding. This supported Irvin's account that Yates had stood over him and fired downward into his neck. Despite State Attorney Jesse Hunter sharing this evidence with Judge Hall, they decided against convening a grand jury, effectively burying the evidence. After just thirty minutes of deliberation, the coroner's jury ruled Shepherd's death "justified" as self-defense.
Kapitel 11
Christmas Night Terror: The Moore Assassination
On Christmas night 1951, Harry T. Moore's home was bombed while his family celebrated both Christmas and the Moores' twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. At 10:20 p.m., shortly after the family had gone to bed, a powerful explosion tore through the house, destroying the floorboards beneath the Moores' bedroom. Family members rushed Harry and Harriette to Fernald-Laughton Memorial Hospital in Sanford, but Harry died from "cerebral hemorrhage, internal hemorrhages and shock" before they arrived.
Moore's murder made front-page headlines nationwide, with the New York Times explicitly linking his death to his campaign against Sheriff Willis McCall. The Washington Post editorial "Terror in Florida" condemned how state officers flouting the law had spread "the lynch spirit." Eleanor Roosevelt warned that news of the assassination would harm America's global reputation.
Thurgood Marshall delivered addresses at memorial services for the Moores, including one at Mount Olivet Baptist Church in Harlem where two thousand people gathered. Unlike Walter White, who expressed confidence in the FBI, Marshall's rhetoric was fiery, criticizing the Bureau: "You can pick up a newspaper or tune in on your radio set any time and learn where the FBI has out-witted some of the cleverest criminals in the world. Yet when it comes to mob violence against Negroes, all you can get is, 'We're investigating.' It's time we got up off our plush seats and did something about it."
FBI agents faced significant obstacles investigating the bombing. Dynamite was readily available throughout central Florida-"like buying chewing gum." More problematically, local law enforcement, often indistinguishable from Klan membership, obstructed the investigation. When interviewing officials, agents frequently heard dismissive responses like "what the hell are you investigating that for? He was only a nigger."
Kapitel 12
The Second Trial: Marshall Takes the Stand
In February 1952, Jack Greenberg traveled to Orlando with researchers and press, joined by Alex Akerman who warned them about the dangers in "Willis McCall country." Marshall arrived shortly after a Klan rally had dispersed, declaring he would appeal to the Supreme Court if necessary.
The courtroom balcony filled with Black spectators carrying bag lunches due to segregated restaurants. Judge Futch allowed Marshall and Greenberg to represent Irvin but kept State Attorney Hunter on the case. Marshall presented evidence showing 99% of Marion County whites believed Irvin guilty, arguing for a venue change.
During recess, the governor's investigator warned Marshall about threatening deputies and revealed a proposed deal: Irvin could receive life imprisonment instead of execution by pleading guilty. Irvin refused, stating: "I'll take a life sentence right now because that's better than the chair, but if I have to say I had anything to do with that lady I'm not going to do it. I'm not guilty."
The final jury was all-white after Black candidates were disqualified. Willie Padgett testified that four Black men who offered help with his car instead attacked him. Under cross-examination, he admitted to drinking whiskey that night and living separately from Norma at the time.
Norma Padgett, now 19 with a newborn, appeared dramatically changed - thin and aged beyond her years. She testified about being too scared to fight her attackers, who threatened to shoot if she screamed.
Marshall's key witness, Lawrence Burtoft, testified that Norma had previously told him she couldn't identify her attackers except for their skin tones, and while mentioning kidnapping, said nothing about rape. Despite aggressive cross-examination, Burtoft's testimony remained solid.
Walter Irvin testified alone, without his deceased friend Samuel Shepherd. Though he had told his story many times before - to various juries, FBI agents, reporters, and doctors - he felt perpetually disbelieved. Once again, he denied kidnapping or raping Norma Padgett.
Kapitel 13
A Verdict Foretold: The System's Failure
Marshall felt obligated to address the jury, aware that Blacks had crowded the balcony to see "Mr. Civil Rights" in action. He introduced himself respectfully as chief counsel for the NAACP from Baltimore. Speaking "patiently, politely, softly, but fluently and with dignity," Marshall reminded jurors of constitutional guarantees for fair trials "no matter whether or not he is white, black or yellow."
Despite Marshall's powerful closing, after just one hour and twenty-three minutes of deliberation, the jury returned with their verdict: guilty, with no recommendation for mercy. Irvin showed no emotion beyond a muscle twitch in his cheeks, while his mother broke down in tears. Judge Futch immediately sentenced him to death, saying "electrocuted until you are dead and may God have mercy on your soul."
Dellia Irvin, Walter's mother, caught Marshall as he was leaving the courtroom. With tears streaming down her face and piercing eyes that would haunt Marshall later, she repeatedly implored him, "Lawyer, don't you let my boy die." Overcome with emotion himself, Marshall embraced the trembling woman, promising, "With the faith of our people and the grace of God, we'll be back... We're going to stick by you... We are going to keep on fighting."
The verdict against Walter Irvin made front-page news across the country on February 15, with many expressing outrage that the jury had shown no mercy despite the beatings and shooting Irvin had endured. Irvin, returned to death row at Raiford prison, told a New York Post reporter he had no regrets about refusing the plea deal: "I would rather have a life sentence than the electric chair, but I thought it wouldn't be right for me to plead guilty when I'm not guilty."
On November 1, 1954, acting Governor Charley Johns signed Walter Irvin's death warrant, scheduling execution for November 8. The NAACP immediately petitioned the Florida Supreme Court for a stay based on "new evidence" that Dr. Geoffrey Binneveld, who examined Norma Padgett, would have testified she "had not been" assaulted.
When the court refused, Marshall made a desperate move, tracking down Chief Justice Fred Vinson at the Statler Hilton where he was playing cards with President Truman. "If you've got guts enough to break in on this, I've got guts enough to sign it," Vinson said, granting a stay.
Kapitel 14
Legacy of Courage: The Aftermath and Impact
While fighting for Irvin's life, Marshall faced personal tragedy. His wife Buster had been diagnosed with cancer, though she and doctors initially kept the news from him. Remorseful about his constant travel and indiscretions, Marshall took a leave from the NAACP to be at her bedside. On February 11, 1955, her forty-fourth birthday, Vivian "Buster" Burey died.
Meanwhile, Florida was undergoing a transformative demographic shift in the mid-1950s. Industrial activity had increased by more than 50 percent, tourism was booming, and the population grew by almost 80 percent between 1950 and 1960. At his January 1955 inauguration, Governor LeRoy Collins promised that "ward-heeling, back-scratching, self-promoting" politics were over, declaring that government must have "qualities of the spirit" including "truth and justice and fairness."
Despite pressure from segregationists, Collins was moved by Jesse Hunter's confession that Irvin had maintained his innocence even when believing he was dying, and by the discovery that Norma Padgett herself had signed a petition against capital punishment. These factors convinced Collins that his conscience couldn't allow an execution in "a bad case, badly handled, badly tried."
Governor Collins commuted Walter Irvin's sentence, declaring "the State did not walk that extra mile" to conclusively establish guilt. Collins cited Jesse Hunter's letter and the investigation findings as key factors, though he also criticized the NAACP's involvement to mitigate political fallout. Thurgood Marshall fired back that Collins was using the NAACP as "the whipping boy" while acknowledging it took "political courage" to spare Irvin.
Lake County erupted in outrage, with Judge Futch convening a grand jury to investigate "Communist pressure tactics" that might have influenced Collins. Sheriff McCall had Norma Padgett claim her petition signature was obtained by "ruse," while Mabel Norris Reese's editorial supporting the commutation earned her a yard full of dead fish and a grenade attack on her home.
In a decisive break with Florida's segregationist past, Governor Collins pardoned Walter Irvin in 1962, declaring the state could no longer justify his imprisonment. Collins acknowledged Irvin was "the victim of a gross miscarriage" of justice, a stance that required "far more political courage" than most politicians possessed.
Irvin, finally free, maintained "I never hurt anyone" until his death in 1969. The FBI investigation ultimately laid responsibility for Harry Moore's murder on the KKK, noting the bombing was retaliation "for the 'Tranquility of the South'" that Moore had disrupted.
In a 1966 speech, Marshall reflected, "There is very little truth" in claims that legal victories alone could achieve racial justice. Marshall believed his work on the Groveland case "did the most immediate good" of his career, though he still referred to Sheriff McCall as "the sonofabitch" years later.
In a fitting conclusion to their decades-long battle, when Marshall was appointed to the Supreme Court in 1967, he received a congratulatory letter from Willis McCall that began, "My dear Mr. Justice"-a final acknowledgment from his most notorious adversary that Marshall had ultimately prevailed in their long struggle for justice.
Kapitel 15
The Price of Justice: Personal Costs and National Change
The Groveland Boys case exemplifies how racial justice in America has always come at a terrible price. Four young Black men-Walter Irvin, Samuel Shepherd, Charles Greenlee, and Ernest Thomas-lost their freedom or their lives based on a dubious rape accusation. Harry T. Moore and his wife Harriette paid with their lives for challenging the system. Even Thurgood Marshall risked his life repeatedly traveling to Florida to represent clients in a hostile environment where law enforcement and the Klan were often indistinguishable.
Yet the case also demonstrates how determined individuals can bend the arc of history toward justice. Marshall's legal brilliance and physical courage, Lawrence Burtoft's honest testimony despite community pressure, Governor LeRoy Collins's eventual moral awakening, and countless others who supported the defense against overwhelming odds-all contributed to exposing the machinery of injustice that operated throughout the Jim Crow South.
The Groveland case occurred at a pivotal moment in American history. As Marshall fought for the Groveland Boys, he was simultaneously laying the groundwork for Brown v. Board of Education, which would legally end segregation in public schools. The international embarrassment of cases like Groveland helped pressure American leaders to address civil rights issues as the Cold War made America's racial practices a liability in the competition for global influence.
In 2019, seventy years after their ordeal began, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis and the state clemency board finally issued posthumous pardons to all four Groveland Boys. In 2021, a monument was erected in front of the Old Lake County Courthouse commemorating the four men and their decades-long fight for justice.
The story of the Groveland Boys reminds us that progress is neither inevitable nor complete. It requires vigilance, courage, and sacrifice from ordinary citizens willing to stand against injustice even at great personal cost. As Thurgood Marshall once observed, "In recognizing the humanity of our fellow beings, we pay ourselves the highest tribute."
