The Deadly Feud in Munson, Florida

By Michael Earl Simmons

Feud: a long‑lasting, bitter conflict or quarrel between individuals or groups. It often involves ongoing hostility, resentment, and repeated disagreements over time

Family Feud: A prolonged dispute between members of the same family, or between two families. It typically lasts for years (sometimes generations) and may involve strong emotions like anger or bitterness. In more extreme or historical cases, it may include cycles of retaliation or even violence.

A historical black and white photo of a group of children posing together outdoors, with some standing and others sitting. Trees and vintage vehicles are visible in the background.

Southern Family Feud: A feud involving close‑knit families or clans, often tied to land, honor, or reputation.

What starts a southern family feud? A feud between families, clans, neighbors or others at odds in the South is usually attached to – as the definition says, “land, honor, or reputation. What the definition does not say is this…

  • Land – “You put your fence four inches onto my property.” This is often followed by the fence being dug up and removed.
  • Honor – “What did you say about my mama?” This is often followed by a fight.
  • Reputation – “We would never allow anyone in our family to marry anyone in y’alls!” This is often followed by a shotgun wedding and a killing.

You see, long before Munson, Florida, became a quiet crossroads hidden among pine forests and blackwater creeks, it was a hard lumber and turpentine town — the kind of place where rough men carried pistols as naturally as pocketknives, and where old grudges sometimes outlived common sense.

In the winter of 1916, that old Southern truth exploded into gunfire. By the time the smoke cleared, two respected men were dead, four others had been shot, and Santa Rosa County authorities were left trying to untangle what newspapers would call one of the bloodiest affrays in the county’s history.

But the shooting itself was only the final chapter. The real story had been simmering for years.

A historical black and white photograph of a group of eleven people posed in front of a wooden building, dressed in early 20th-century clothing.

In the 1800s and early 1900s, rural southern communities, law enforcement was often sparse or non-existent, which meant that the locals handled disputes in their own way – often through feuds. We don’t know exactly what was involved in the Munson killings, but it probably involved old family issues.

At the time, Munson was booming. The Bagdad Land & Lumber Company had transformed the northern end of Santa Rosa County into a bustling industrial settlement. Newspaper descriptions from the period painted a surprisingly prosperous picture: cattle operations expanding across fenced pastureland, trains carrying timber through virgin pine forests, commissaries feeding workers, and turpentine camps spread through the woods. The company’s commissary sat at the center of life in Munson. Men gathered there to buy supplies, talk politics, argue over business, and settle scores.

And there were scores to settle.

One of the central figures in the coming violence was Robert E. “Bud” Collins, a former constable and well-known local lawman. Collins came from a prominent Santa Rosa County family. His brother, John H. Collins, had served as sheriff and postmaster in Milton. Bud Collins was no stranger to authority, nor to conflict.

The other central figure was Lee D. Thompson, a foreman connected with the Bagdad company’s operations and superintendent of a turpentine settlement nearby at Pine Level.

Historic black and white image of a steam locomotive with six men posing alongside it in a wooded area.

Both men were known throughout the area. Both were proud. And according to later newspaper accounts, both had carried a bitter feud for years.

At first, newspapers reported the violence as a simple pistol duel between Collins and Thompson. Sad to say, but…no big deal. Shootings happen all the time in the South. But within hours, details began changing. The first reports claimed only two men had been shot. Later reports revealed six people had been involved and four had been wounded.

But the newspaper accounts never tell the whole story. They can’t. They only report what information they are given. And…in Southern rural communities…they almost never are given the full truth. For that, you need to go find those who know. Find that grandma who sits in the rocker on the front porch and doesn’t miss anything. Or find the old man who blends into the background of the general store while others are talking. They know.

As investigators worked through the confusion and talked with “those who know,” other possibilities emerged: One was politics. Some locals reportedly believed political disagreements had helped fuel the hatred between Collins and Thompson. Bud Collins had recently lost an election for constable, and rumors circulated that old political bitterness had deepened personal animosity.

The official account says that “Bad blood developed in 1916 between Collins and Thompson over practical and personal issues.” Translated, that means, “Nobody remembers how it started – it’s been going on for a long time.”

The phrase “a long time ago” appears often in old Southern murder cases. And that’s what this one said.

Sounds like there were some older, pent-up feelings there before any “business” issues ever came up. This wasn’t a single insult, or a drunken argument – just years of accumulated resentment…the kind that waits patiently.

Sounds like some other reason already existed. That is often how feuds come about. Such feuds often started small – hiring grudges, property damage, or family honor – and snowballed due to kinship networks, and a code where public confrontation restored reputation.

Black and white photo of a train transporting logs on a railway track.

The Showdown: December 2, 1916

It had been building, and finally, like a pressure cooker, blew its top off. On a Saturday, both men – backed by armed family and friends on each side – confronted each other on Munson’s main drag. What began as an insult-hurling quarrel soon took a turn for the worse. Both men were the heads of their clans. As such, they were the representative and spokesman for their respective bunch. It is likely that neither man wanted to go where the standoff looked to be headed, but…how do you stop a years-old family feud when each group is standing in the middle of the road – armed – and facing each other?

It had been building…maybe for years. Today, it finally turned into a pistol duel. When the time came, each man pulled his pistol and fired at the other, while some of the others joined in. When the smoke cleared, both Bob Collins and Lee Diamond Thompson lay dead, while four others were shot. A coroner’s inquest ruled they had essentially killed each other; no further charges were pursued, and the matter faded into local lore.

Black and white historical photo of a steam locomotive with 'Graves Lumber Co' on the side, set in a wooded area with felled trees.

Aftermath and Legacy

The feud “died” with the principals, as often happened – mutual destruction or community exhaustion ended them without broader vendettas. Time buried the story. That is often the way with Southern feuds. They begin with wounded pride, public embarrassment, political grudges, family loyalties, and whispered insults repeated over the years until nobody remembers where the hatred truly started.

Then one afternoon, somebody reaches for a pistol…and a quiet town becomes part of history.

Today, travelers passing through Munson see a small, peaceful North Florida community surrounded by timberland and highways stretching toward Alabama. Most have no idea that a deadly feud took place more than a century ago – one that had simmered for years.

The pine forests have grown back, the commissary is gone, and the voices of Bud Collins and Lee Thompson disappeared long ago.

But if old towns could talk, Munson might still remember the sound of pistols cracking through the cold December air of 1916 — and the moment an old feud finally turned deadly.

Black and white historical map of Santa Rosa County, Florida, showing towns, roads, and geographical features.

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