Saturday, July 21, 2012
Carroll/East Carroll Newspaper Excerpt Books
BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS !BOOKS! BOOKS! BOOKS!
I have compiled several books that are typed out excerpts, or the originals, from the columns of several Northeastern Louisiana's newspapers as well as some other U. S. newspapers. These books start from scarce mentions of the area in 1818. As you will see, there where many hardships our ancestors went through, along with many joyous occasions they had, that I've placed within these pages. There are what I've always refered to as "the gossip columns" here, but also there is so much more; there were town meetings, church goings, hunting trips, yellow fever epidemics, floods, fires, slave trades, plantation BarBQues, births, deaths, marriages, entertainments, etc., etc., etc. I could go on and on the different subjects which is contained here. It shows the way of life during those years.
Basic history of East Carroll Parish:
Prior to 1814, all of the territory covered by the current East Carroll Parish was part of the now the defunct Warren Parish. On March 14, 1832 the Parish of Carroll was created from the northern part of the original Concordia Parish and the eastern part of Ouachita Parish. In 1877, with the line being the Bayou Macon, the parish of Carroll was divided into what is now East Carroll Parish and West Carroll Parish.
Below is a list of the books I have. They are all works in progress.... Not to long ago I started finding more pictures of people, steamboats, etc., and started adding them into the books, as well as some of the original stories and ads that I clipped and pasted from the newspapers themselves. I have also began placing some pictures for illustrations, such as some of the hotels people would visit in N.O. and St. Louis, etc. A few of the books I have not been able to get to yet, they are still the originals.
NOTE:
If you would like for me to check out any names to see if they contain any person you are seeking information about.... I would be glad to look to see for you if they are in any of these books... please send me at least first and last name to me at eastcarrollparish@gmail.com
"Early Days in the Vacinity of Carroll Parish" 1818 - 1860. This book also includes "Carroll Watchman" of 1845.
"Carroll Parish in the Civil War", 1861 - 1865.
Book I. "Murder, Mayhem, & Misc. of Carroll Parish, Louisiana" covers the years 1866 thru 1876, right after the Civil War. The parish seat was in Floyd. [Carroll Parish]
Book II. "Murder, Mayhem, & Misc. of East Carroll Parish, La. II". These excerpts are from the years 1877 - 1888.
Book III. "Murder, Mayhem, & Misc. of East Carroll Parish, La. III", excerpts from 1889 - 1891.
Book IV. It covers 1892 - 1895, and contains 1892 map sections of the town of Lake Providence.
Book V. This book will cover years 1896 thru 1899. Still working on it..... [I have thru 1897 done].
Book VI. "Murder, Mayhem, & Misc. of E. Carroll Parish, La." It covers 1904 - 1906 and 1918 - 1928, issues during this time period where somewhat scarce.
Sandy Guthrie Moore
eastcarrollparish@gmail.com
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Bryan and Sewall Club
Sept. 5, 1896
The Bryan and Sewall Club.—The Democrats of East Carroll Parish,
Louisiana, organized on this the 31st day of August, 1896, into a
Bryan and Sewall Democratic Club by
electing Judge J. M. Kennedy as President, C. S. Wyly, secretary and C. R.
Egelly as treasurer.
Thereupon the President
appointed the following committee on rules.
J. M. Kennedy, Chairman; J. E. Ransdell, J. W. Pittman, W. H. Schneider,
C. E. Davis, and C. R. Egelly. On
motion, the club adjourned until Friday, Sept. 4, 1896, at 12 o’clock. J. M. Kennedy, President, C. S. Wyly,
Secretary.
September 26, 1896
Members of the Bryan and Sewall Club.—James Beard,
F. R. Bernard, W. A. Blount, J. S. Guenard, B. P. Shelby, J. G. Wyly, R. H.
Davis, C.H. Webb, W. F. Burney, H. L. Deeson, W. H. Schneider, R. N. Rae, J. D.
Tompkins, George Guter, S. B. Kennedy, J. A. Brooks, C. F. Davis, P. D. Quays,
L. K. Barber, W. C. McRae, F. F. Montgomery, J. M. Kennedy, John R. Brown, T.
S. Delony, T. H. Davis, C. R. Egelly, J. L. Landsworth, Abe Bass, T. G.
Johnson, J. R. Keller, J. A. Mayer, H. Jameson, C. E. Barwick, R. J. E.
Barwick, T. T. Taylor, G. D. Whitney, Sig Woolf, Ed. B. Woolf, J. E. Hauff,
Chris Duff, A. B. Taylor, Robert Nicholson, S. Witkowski, J. Q. Ikerd, W. B.
Frost, Nat Murfee, J. D. Wilhelm, W. H. Fisher, Harry Hill, J. T. Garner, T. J.
Fatherree, E. E. Williamson, J. B. Lache, Walter Smith, John Sheerin, W. H.
McCulloch, C. E. Beard, John Kelly, M. M. Goodwin, A. M. Nelson, L. L.
Witkowski, J. M. McNeill, T. F. Montgomery, P. N. Long, E. J. Hamley, G. F.
Blackburn, P.; Sax., Louis Leach, E. J. Delony, George S. Owen, J. W. Pittman,
R. J. Burney, C. S. Wyly, J. W. Dunn, J. N. Turner, J. C. Pittman, , T. J.
Gillikam, W. D. Bell, Phil McGuire, A. A. Blount, Jr., V. Gargaro, T. D.
McCandless, W. T. Williams, F. H. Schneider, C. T. Harrison, T. Byrne, J. H.
Fowler, W. A. Reid, Jr., C. B. Richardson, H. Selig, T. S. Sitton, O. W.
Campbell, J. T. White, T. J. Powell, O. P. Hamilton, E. B. Moore, O. J. Hurley,
W. H. Montgomery, Max Levy, J. P. Webb, A. D. Minsky, J. W. Donovan, G. M. Franklin,
D. O”Sullivan, J. Schonfarber, N. Fousse, S. M. Purdy, R. F. Brown, D. W.
Gilmour, J. Marcus, Pat McGuire, A. Richard, I. B. Beard, I. C. B. Lewis, Aaron
Joseph, Linmore Brown, N. J. Bryan, James Beard, Jr., C. E. Seghers, L. L.
Davis, and R. L. Holland.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Aunt Eliza Keene - Keene decendant??
August 15, 1896
Banner-Democrat newspaper
On the 25th of July there died in
Greenville one whose life contained much of the dramatic incident which clustered
around the old time institutions of slavery—one who possessed many friends, and
whose good deeds may well outweigh the faults that were her’s through the
peculiar social conditions in which she lived.
Aunt Eliza Keene was born a slave of the well-known Keene family of
Louisiana about 70 years ago. The
remarkable beauty of the young quadroon attracted the overseer, and her master
gave him permission to buy her, on condition that, as far as law and custom
would allow, he would make her his wife.
He was faithful to his bargain, and after during all his life he
lavished upon her every advantage in his power.
When Greenville was a tiny village she made it her home, and her death
removes one of the best known figures of the life of the city in the early
days. No unfortunate, whether from fault
or fortune, ever appealed for help to “Aunt Eliza” in vain. No complaint ever came from her because of
the imposition on her charity. Her life
may not have been a blameless one, but when the ledger is written up, there
will be a safe balance to the credit of Aunt Eliza Keene.—Greenville Times.
Capt. W. B. Keene was a resident of our parish, having died many years ago, but his daughter, Mrs. Col. E. W. Constant and his grand-children are still living on part of the large estate. Mr. Keene was no doubt one of the largest land and slave owners in the South, and at the breaking out of the war owned thirteen plantations and it is said nearly fifteen thousand slaves. We have required late the above, and from what we could learn the part that refers to the overseer purchasing the woman is hardly a fact. She was like a great many other who were slaves, taking their master’s name.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
New Project on East Carroll Parish
I really don't want to spill the beans right now, but would like to have YOUR input on some information for a project I am trying to get together.... but I have to have information from my followers and readers.
My question to ya'll is 'What are some of the most interesting/significant things about Lake Providence/Carroll Parish that you know about?' I will mention some of the things I think about so that you might think of some things that you know of about there.
1) Beautiful Arlington Plantation.
2) Cotton, cotton, and more cotton.
3) The Dairy Queen in town and the Skating Rink over the lake.
4) The split of Carroll Parish into East and West Carroll parishes.
5) The beautiful lake, with it's moss covered cypress trees.
6) Grant's Canal and Soldiers' Rest.
7) Joseph Ransdell, Charles Carroll, Maude VanFossen.
8) Yellow Fever Epidimics and Floods.
9) Teddy Roosevelt's bear hunt.
10) The 4th Louisiana Infantry.
11) The Miss Louisiana Beauty Pageant.
12) Sportsman's Paradise and the muddy Mississippi.
These are a few of the things I can remember, but would love to read what you know of my old hometown. Please let me hear from you with your comments below or email to me.
P.S. If I get enough of a response I will tell you about this plan I am working on.
If you have pics I would love to see them... please send in Subject: "L.P. Project", by email:
morechev@ipa.net
Thanks,
Sandy
My question to ya'll is 'What are some of the most interesting/significant things about Lake Providence/Carroll Parish that you know about?' I will mention some of the things I think about so that you might think of some things that you know of about there.
1) Beautiful Arlington Plantation.
2) Cotton, cotton, and more cotton.
3) The Dairy Queen in town and the Skating Rink over the lake.
4) The split of Carroll Parish into East and West Carroll parishes.
5) The beautiful lake, with it's moss covered cypress trees.
6) Grant's Canal and Soldiers' Rest.
7) Joseph Ransdell, Charles Carroll, Maude VanFossen.
8) Yellow Fever Epidimics and Floods.
9) Teddy Roosevelt's bear hunt.
10) The 4th Louisiana Infantry.
11) The Miss Louisiana Beauty Pageant.
12) Sportsman's Paradise and the muddy Mississippi.
These are a few of the things I can remember, but would love to read what you know of my old hometown. Please let me hear from you with your comments below or email to me.
P.S. If I get enough of a response I will tell you about this plan I am working on.
If you have pics I would love to see them... please send in Subject: "L.P. Project", by email:
morechev@ipa.net
Thanks,
Sandy
Friday, May 11, 2012
Prisoner escapes on his Lawyer’s horse.
Here are a couple of posts, stories out of the East Carroll Delta Newspaper in the mid 1960's. It was a regular column that brought out some of the history of Lake Providence and also some of the days in the life of Nookie, the writer of the columns.
“Reminiscing.....”
Prisoner escapes on Lawyer’s horse.
November 25th, 1965
by Unk Nook
Hello Folks,
The story has its beginning on the Saturday night following the Thanksgiving Holiday of 1904.
This whole episode was the result of a little misunderstanding. A misunderstanding between two very good friends- leaving one of those involved in deep trouble. For the sake of anominity [sic] we shall call these two “A” and “B”. It seems that “A” was eating a piece of cheese, “B” had asked for some cheese but had been told by “A” that there wasn’t enough to share. The reader must also bear in mind that both “A” and “B” had been squeezing the jug quite heavily all night. When “A” refused to share his cheese “B” uncorked a haymaker that put “A” on the dirt sidewalk for what should have been the count of one thousand. “B” made the mistake of getting down close to “A” to finish him off. ”A” put his arms around “B’s” neck and bit his nose, leaving “B” with a smooth face from forehead to his chin. “A” made his escape from the law but this Thanksgiving firewater made him break into a saloon on Lake Street. Just as he wal leaving the Drink Emporium he walked into the arms of the Night Marshall, loot and all. He was placed in the callaboose [sic] until Monday, then taken around to the jail to await December term of court.
“A” had a sister living in another city and she employed her home town lawyer to defend her brother, “A” was charged with fighting and disturbing the peace- breaking and entering, and assault by biting off the snozzle [sic] of his fellow man.
Sunday afternoon the lawyer rode into Lake Providence on a beautiful sorrel horse and a brand new saddle and bridle. On Monday morning he hitched his steed to the hitch rack back of the jail and made himself ready for the defense of his client.
“A” case was called a few minutes after nine a.nm. after hearing the testimony of several witnesses and debating with the D. A., this out of town lawyer requested a short recess to talk privately with his client. The judge granted the request.
In an ante room during the secret confab the client asked permission to be excursed (the bathroom was in the jail house yard).
In the meantime I was in the kitchen begging Uncle Alf (he was cook and part-time jailer) to let me rent his goat and wagon for two bits - Uncle Alf was holding out for 4 bits. We were ion the middle of this discussion when “A” walked through the kitchen - Uncle Alf told “A” to take the lawyer’s horse. “A” needed no further invitation. Paul Revere’s ride could not compare with “A’s” ride.
The out of town lawyer wound up with no horse, no case, and no client.
“B Cing U”
Unk NookSaturday, April 21, 2012
How 'Soldiers' Rest' really got it's name ???..
Louisiana Swamp Doctor/Henry Clay Lewis, mid 1800's
Henry Clay Lewis was a doctor who lived on the Tensas River, Madison Parish, not to far from Lake Providence, in northeast Louisiana. He encountered many Lake Providence folks. He died at the early age of 26. He was helping with the Cholera epidemic at the time of the swollen bayous and flooding Mississippi River on an August day in 1850. Plunging his horse into the murkey waters his feet and his horses' feet was snarled on the dense willows pulling him and his horse down. The doctor was found the next day drown.
The next few posts will be about some of the local folk that was mentioned in his book, "Louisiana Swamp Doctor".
Saturday, April 14, 2012
"La. Swamp Doctor and the Panther"
..."Telling the people that I would not return unless they sent for me, and the sun being low, I mounted my horse and dashed off for home. Coming to a fork in the path, I took the one I thought I had come in the morning and gave myself no further concern about the road.
I mentioned that I had filled my pockets with valerian on leaving home, and on this simple thing depended two lives, as the sequill [sic] will show. It is a root and when fresh of a powerful and penetrating odor peculiar to its species."...."The root possesses great attractions for the cat tribe which smells it at a great distance and resorts to it eagerly, devouring its fragrant fibers with great apparent relish."... "I had proceeded some distance when it began to appear to me that the path I was travelling was not the one by which I had come in the morning, but as it was some miles back...." ...."I determined to proceed." "It was near sunset, and, in despite of my endeavors to the contrary, I was becoming somewhat anxious as a gloom was upon the bayou or slough whose illusory appearance I have noted. Not remarking that the part instead of crossing turned up the bank, I gave my horse the rein and he sprang into the stream..." ...."I was mistaken in the slough and that in the instance the proximity of the knees to the surface was no illusion. He had fortunately become wedged between two of the largest which sustained his weight and saved him from being impaled upon those beneath. I had nothing in the shape of a cutting instrument except a small penknife which under the circumstance could afford me no aid. Dismounting in the water, by main strength I released my horse, and as the sun withdrew its lingering ray from the top most bough of the trees-jaded, wet, and exhausted--we stood in the midst of the swamp on the banks of an unknown slough without food, fire, or weapon--lost! lost! lost! I could form no idea where I was, and go as I would it would be haphazard if I went right. The probabilities were that I would have to spend the night in the drearisome place."
..."An unusual stillness rested over the swamp, unbroken save by the tramp of my horse; not even a frog or chichado [cicada] was to be heard, and the wind had assumed that low, plaintive wail amidst the leaves..." " such a glorious sun go down shrouded with darkness whilst it yet was day, when the ominous silence was broken by a sound which, God grant, I may never hear agin. Like a woman's shriek in the damning anguish of desertion and despair--lost and ruined--was the long, piercing scream of the panther, whose awful yell palsied my heart and curdled the blood within my smallest veins. Again and again it rose, filling the solemn aisles of the darksome swamp till echo took up the fearful sound and every tree, bush, and brake gave back the hellish, agonizing shriek."
"It was evidently approaching us; my poor horse trembled like an aspen beneath me and seemed incapable of moving.".... "I struck my horse, and twining my hands in his mane, lay down on his neck, letting him go as he wished..." "With a snort of terror he spring off through the darkness and trees with a speed that seemed miraculous." ...."I began to despair as I had no weapon save the penknife, and the animal, I knew, was one of the fiercest nature--else why did he follow for my blood? ( I never thought of the valerian.)"
..."Again and again the awful scream of the infuriated animal arose and fell like the weight of a mountain on my trembling frame. Nobly my gallant horse strove to save me...." ... "with fearfullness of my situation made me half delirous, and my thought began to wander...." " I imagined that I was in the midst of a well-contested battle..." ".... "Making an effort to draw my sword, my hand came in contact with the vial of prussic acid in my vest pocket with considerable force. This aroused me, and taking it out I determined to commit suicide should the panther overtake me--preferring to die thus to being devoured alive."... "... I heard the scream of the panther not two hundred yards behind and could almost hear his feet as they struck the ground after his leaps. He seemed to be rejoicing over his approaching feast--his screams arouse fiercer-shriller--more horrid than before. The heavens gave back the sound...."
..."I tore the neck of my poor horse with my teeth to incite him to greater speed. My time had come. Again I heard the panther's scream so near that it perced my brain with its acuteness. I heard his spring, as he threw himself over the lowermost boughs of the trees, and shrank withing my self, momentarily expecting him to alight with his sharp teeth in my heart. The thought occured to me.." ..."if I kill my horse, may not the panther be satified with his blood and allow me to esape?" ..."With my penknife I felt carefully for the carotid artery and when it was found, I plunged the blade in, inflicting a small but deadly gash. Give a terrible spring, the hot blood gushing all over, he ran as none but a noble horse in the agonies of death can run and then with a low, reproachful moan fell dead. I, disengaging myself, at a full run strove to make my escape.
I heard the yell of the panther as he reched the horse, and as he stopped I thought myself safe--but not so long. Again his fierce scream came ringing o'er the air, and I was too well aware...." "... when the quarry is being devoured his voice is still. Suicide by poison or a more awful death was all that was now left me. I heard the rapid leap of the panther, yelling at every spring. I uncorked the vial and was raising it to my lips when, as if by inspiration, came the blessed thought that when the panther seized me to pour the instantaneous poison down his throat. I uttered a low, deep prayer to God, and for one who, if she had known my peril, would have sought to die with me, and then bracing myself firmly against a tree with the vial clenched in my right hand awaited the deadly foe. I heard his shriek, saw a huge form flying through the darkness, felt a keen pang in my shoulder, and then pouring the acid in the mouth of the panther, fainted.
When I recoved consiousness the moon was shining in my upturned face, and the huge form of the dead panther was lying by my side with the pocket holding the valerian firmly clenched in his teeth."
I mentioned that I had filled my pockets with valerian on leaving home, and on this simple thing depended two lives, as the sequill [sic] will show. It is a root and when fresh of a powerful and penetrating odor peculiar to its species."...."The root possesses great attractions for the cat tribe which smells it at a great distance and resorts to it eagerly, devouring its fragrant fibers with great apparent relish."... "I had proceeded some distance when it began to appear to me that the path I was travelling was not the one by which I had come in the morning, but as it was some miles back...." ...."I determined to proceed." "It was near sunset, and, in despite of my endeavors to the contrary, I was becoming somewhat anxious as a gloom was upon the bayou or slough whose illusory appearance I have noted. Not remarking that the part instead of crossing turned up the bank, I gave my horse the rein and he sprang into the stream..." ...."I was mistaken in the slough and that in the instance the proximity of the knees to the surface was no illusion. He had fortunately become wedged between two of the largest which sustained his weight and saved him from being impaled upon those beneath. I had nothing in the shape of a cutting instrument except a small penknife which under the circumstance could afford me no aid. Dismounting in the water, by main strength I released my horse, and as the sun withdrew its lingering ray from the top most bough of the trees-jaded, wet, and exhausted--we stood in the midst of the swamp on the banks of an unknown slough without food, fire, or weapon--lost! lost! lost! I could form no idea where I was, and go as I would it would be haphazard if I went right. The probabilities were that I would have to spend the night in the drearisome place."
..."An unusual stillness rested over the swamp, unbroken save by the tramp of my horse; not even a frog or chichado [cicada] was to be heard, and the wind had assumed that low, plaintive wail amidst the leaves..." " such a glorious sun go down shrouded with darkness whilst it yet was day, when the ominous silence was broken by a sound which, God grant, I may never hear agin. Like a woman's shriek in the damning anguish of desertion and despair--lost and ruined--was the long, piercing scream of the panther, whose awful yell palsied my heart and curdled the blood within my smallest veins. Again and again it rose, filling the solemn aisles of the darksome swamp till echo took up the fearful sound and every tree, bush, and brake gave back the hellish, agonizing shriek."
"It was evidently approaching us; my poor horse trembled like an aspen beneath me and seemed incapable of moving.".... "I struck my horse, and twining my hands in his mane, lay down on his neck, letting him go as he wished..." "With a snort of terror he spring off through the darkness and trees with a speed that seemed miraculous." ...."I began to despair as I had no weapon save the penknife, and the animal, I knew, was one of the fiercest nature--else why did he follow for my blood? ( I never thought of the valerian.)"
..."Again and again the awful scream of the infuriated animal arose and fell like the weight of a mountain on my trembling frame. Nobly my gallant horse strove to save me...." ... "with fearfullness of my situation made me half delirous, and my thought began to wander...." " I imagined that I was in the midst of a well-contested battle..." ".... "Making an effort to draw my sword, my hand came in contact with the vial of prussic acid in my vest pocket with considerable force. This aroused me, and taking it out I determined to commit suicide should the panther overtake me--preferring to die thus to being devoured alive."... "... I heard the scream of the panther not two hundred yards behind and could almost hear his feet as they struck the ground after his leaps. He seemed to be rejoicing over his approaching feast--his screams arouse fiercer-shriller--more horrid than before. The heavens gave back the sound...."
..."I tore the neck of my poor horse with my teeth to incite him to greater speed. My time had come. Again I heard the panther's scream so near that it perced my brain with its acuteness. I heard his spring, as he threw himself over the lowermost boughs of the trees, and shrank withing my self, momentarily expecting him to alight with his sharp teeth in my heart. The thought occured to me.." ..."if I kill my horse, may not the panther be satified with his blood and allow me to esape?" ..."With my penknife I felt carefully for the carotid artery and when it was found, I plunged the blade in, inflicting a small but deadly gash. Give a terrible spring, the hot blood gushing all over, he ran as none but a noble horse in the agonies of death can run and then with a low, reproachful moan fell dead. I, disengaging myself, at a full run strove to make my escape.
I heard the yell of the panther as he reched the horse, and as he stopped I thought myself safe--but not so long. Again his fierce scream came ringing o'er the air, and I was too well aware...." "... when the quarry is being devoured his voice is still. Suicide by poison or a more awful death was all that was now left me. I heard the rapid leap of the panther, yelling at every spring. I uncorked the vial and was raising it to my lips when, as if by inspiration, came the blessed thought that when the panther seized me to pour the instantaneous poison down his throat. I uttered a low, deep prayer to God, and for one who, if she had known my peril, would have sought to die with me, and then bracing myself firmly against a tree with the vial clenched in my right hand awaited the deadly foe. I heard his shriek, saw a huge form flying through the darkness, felt a keen pang in my shoulder, and then pouring the acid in the mouth of the panther, fainted.
When I recoved consiousness the moon was shining in my upturned face, and the huge form of the dead panther was lying by my side with the pocket holding the valerian firmly clenched in his teeth."
Felix Bosworth of Carroll Parish
"According to the Richmond Compiler, the Louisiana Race Course was opened in Richmond early iun 1842. H. E. Downes, proprietor , announced a spring meeting in May and a fall meeting in November. A match race was advertised for June 25 between Downes' Georgia Maid and Lawson Dunn's "celebrated John Stacker". A second race the same day was scheduled between the two main events. The Alonzo Snyder Papers, Dept. of Archives , L.S.U., Baton Rouge, contained a letter from Felix Bosworth, parish judge of Carroll Parish, dated Jan. 2, 1846, in which Bosworth advised Judge Snyder to give Dr. Shadburne $100.00 and a horse which Bosworth owed the doctor "on a bet". So far as is known, the Richmond Course was still in operation whenb Lew came to Madison Parish, and it is entirely likely that he first met Shadburne there.
Presidents of the Rotary Club, Lake Providence
Presidents of the Lake Providence Rotary Club
East Carroll Delta News
Nov. 4, 1965
From the original 27 members who on January 8, 1936 initiated the Lake Providence Rotary Club, only two remain active in the Club today (Nov. 4, 1965). Original officers who served with President Evans were J. Stuart Pittman, Vice President; Golden Leigh Levy, Secretary-Treasurer, and William H. Hamley, Sergeant-at-Arms. Original Directors included the first 3 officers together with Frederick H. Schneider, J. Hortaire Guenard, Frank Voelker, Sr., and A. P. Surles.
Thanks to C. Rupert Evans for this list of Past-Presidents
C. Rupert Evans
J. Stuart Pittman
Golden Leigh Levy
Edward D. Schneider
Crawford A. Rose
Dr. Frank A. Williams
Dr. Thomas G. Biggs
Mertie L. Levy
J. Walter Pittman
Dr. Don F. Davis
George Rundell
William Y. Bell
J. Hortaire Guenard
Mark H. Brown
Frank Byerley
James S. Green
Rev. H. Newton Griffith
Leo A. Lensing
William B. Ragland, Jr.
Frank Voelker, Jr.
Dr. Carl A. Kelly
Charles S. Perry
Paul Geisler
Captan Jack Wyly
C. T. (Bill) Hall
William M. Knobles
John O. Nelson
Buren A. Bayles
L. Percy Ragland
Baxter O. Deal
F. Alton Babb
J. D. (Red) White
(Henry G. Norris was elected but did not serve as he went to the army)
East Carroll Delta News
Nov. 4, 1965
From the original 27 members who on January 8, 1936 initiated the Lake Providence Rotary Club, only two remain active in the Club today (Nov. 4, 1965). Original officers who served with President Evans were J. Stuart Pittman, Vice President; Golden Leigh Levy, Secretary-Treasurer, and William H. Hamley, Sergeant-at-Arms. Original Directors included the first 3 officers together with Frederick H. Schneider, J. Hortaire Guenard, Frank Voelker, Sr., and A. P. Surles.
Thanks to C. Rupert Evans for this list of Past-Presidents
C. Rupert Evans
J. Stuart Pittman
Golden Leigh Levy
Edward D. Schneider
Crawford A. Rose
Dr. Frank A. Williams
Dr. Thomas G. Biggs
Mertie L. Levy
J. Walter Pittman
Dr. Don F. Davis
George Rundell
William Y. Bell
J. Hortaire Guenard
Mark H. Brown
Frank Byerley
James S. Green
Rev. H. Newton Griffith
Leo A. Lensing
William B. Ragland, Jr.
Frank Voelker, Jr.
Dr. Carl A. Kelly
Charles S. Perry
Paul Geisler
Captan Jack Wyly
C. T. (Bill) Hall
William M. Knobles
John O. Nelson
Buren A. Bayles
L. Percy Ragland
Baxter O. Deal
F. Alton Babb
J. D. (Red) White
(Henry G. Norris was elected but did not serve as he went to the army)
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Funeral of Col. Thomas Jefferson Randolph
East Carroll Delta News - October 21, 1965
As soon as the funeral services at the new-made grave of Col. Thomas Jefferson Randolph was concluded, and before the grave was filled up, a veteran negro stepped forward and asked if there was any objection to a service by his people. He was told that such a tribute would be acceptable to the family, and then a scene that should go down in history was enacted. Quietly Mr. Randolph’s former slaves assembled around him, and then swelled up from a hundred negro voices that most pathetic of hymns:
Am I a soldier of the cross - A follower of the Lamb?
A gentleman who was present says that in his whole life, extending over seventy years, he never witnessed anything so touching. When the last note died away amid the oaks of Monticello, there was not a dry eye in the vast assembly. --Richmond Enquirer - 1876.
As soon as the funeral services at the new-made grave of Col. Thomas Jefferson Randolph was concluded, and before the grave was filled up, a veteran negro stepped forward and asked if there was any objection to a service by his people. He was told that such a tribute would be acceptable to the family, and then a scene that should go down in history was enacted. Quietly Mr. Randolph’s former slaves assembled around him, and then swelled up from a hundred negro voices that most pathetic of hymns:
Am I a soldier of the cross - A follower of the Lamb?
A gentleman who was present says that in his whole life, extending over seventy years, he never witnessed anything so touching. When the last note died away amid the oaks of Monticello, there was not a dry eye in the vast assembly. --Richmond Enquirer - 1876.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
East Carroll History
Interesting East Carroll History:
East Carroll Delta News, Aug. 5, 1965
“According to some evidence, when DeSoto discovered and crossed the Miss. River in 1541 he was somewhere near what is now East Carroll Parish. LaSalle in 1682, when he successfully explored the Miss. River to its mouth, very likely spent the night on the banks of what is now Lake Providence. East Carroll remained a part of New France until 1763, when most of the western Mississippi Valley passed to Spain. The Spanish government sought to bring settles to northeast Louisiana. Settlements, however, clung to the hill areas. The Delta low-lands flooded every year and swampy, were regarded as too unhealthy and otherwise unsuitable for colonization.
East Carroll Parish returned briefly to French rule on March 26, 1803, when public announcement was made of the recession of Louisiana to France from Spain. This was soon followed on April 30, 1803, by the United States’ acquisition of the vast area from France for $15 million by virtue of the Louisiana Purchase.
After the war of 1812, development of the Delta region continued in earnest. Providence, as a name of a community, first appears in press accounts about 1835. War, reconstruction and yellow fever slowed progress but by the return of the century expansion resumed.
During reconstruction and lasting until about 1928 lands in the present sixth and seventh wards, about one-fourth of the parish land area, reverted to a forest primeval similar to a hundred years earlier. By 1930 reclamation of this productive area resumed when over 150 families moved in and established their homes. Now one can not tell the difference in this reclaimed area and the land along the Mississippi River cultivated since 1830."
East Carroll Delta News, Aug. 5, 1965
“According to some evidence, when DeSoto discovered and crossed the Miss. River in 1541 he was somewhere near what is now East Carroll Parish. LaSalle in 1682, when he successfully explored the Miss. River to its mouth, very likely spent the night on the banks of what is now Lake Providence. East Carroll remained a part of New France until 1763, when most of the western Mississippi Valley passed to Spain. The Spanish government sought to bring settles to northeast Louisiana. Settlements, however, clung to the hill areas. The Delta low-lands flooded every year and swampy, were regarded as too unhealthy and otherwise unsuitable for colonization.
East Carroll Parish returned briefly to French rule on March 26, 1803, when public announcement was made of the recession of Louisiana to France from Spain. This was soon followed on April 30, 1803, by the United States’ acquisition of the vast area from France for $15 million by virtue of the Louisiana Purchase.
After the war of 1812, development of the Delta region continued in earnest. Providence, as a name of a community, first appears in press accounts about 1835. War, reconstruction and yellow fever slowed progress but by the return of the century expansion resumed.
During reconstruction and lasting until about 1928 lands in the present sixth and seventh wards, about one-fourth of the parish land area, reverted to a forest primeval similar to a hundred years earlier. By 1930 reclamation of this productive area resumed when over 150 families moved in and established their homes. Now one can not tell the difference in this reclaimed area and the land along the Mississippi River cultivated since 1830."
Historical Land Item
East Carroll Delta News, July 22, 1965
"Looking at the large aerial photograph-map of Lake Hall Plantation owned by George T. Hider, a distinct triangular section of land appears annexed from adjoing Oakland (Plantation).
Mr. Hider supplies an interesting bit of relevant information as was told to him by the late Judge F. X. Ransdall.
During the days of the "floating palaces" on the mighty Mississippi, the owners of Lake Hall and Oakland were engaged in a card game aboard one of the famed river boats, going downstream to New Orleans.
Upon losing his cash and stocks in the game of chance, the owner of Oakland gambled a portion of his plantation, the plat of which he drew on a piece of papper.... and lost.
Thus the triangular section of Oakland was ceded to Lake Hall. It contains approximately 13 chains."
"Looking at the large aerial photograph-map of Lake Hall Plantation owned by George T. Hider, a distinct triangular section of land appears annexed from adjoing Oakland (Plantation).
Mr. Hider supplies an interesting bit of relevant information as was told to him by the late Judge F. X. Ransdall.
During the days of the "floating palaces" on the mighty Mississippi, the owners of Lake Hall and Oakland were engaged in a card game aboard one of the famed river boats, going downstream to New Orleans.
Upon losing his cash and stocks in the game of chance, the owner of Oakland gambled a portion of his plantation, the plat of which he drew on a piece of papper.... and lost.
Thus the triangular section of Oakland was ceded to Lake Hall. It contains approximately 13 chains."
Friday, March 23, 2012
Bunch's Bend and the Pirates
[spelling and grammar is same as in the Aug. 1, 1896 newspaper]
"Late at night, in the month of May, 1766, the moon is hidden by clouds, the Mississippi river is dark and turbulent. The black hulk of the schooner Spy, tosses like a toy ship on the waves, a single yellow torchlight flares from the mast. Aboard the deck are some dozen men, rough, drunken, boisterous. On either side of the mighty, swollen stream they see only "the dark, awful impenetrable forests." Their coarse voices shock the stillness of the North Louisiana landscape. They half shout, half sing the words:
We are rounding Bunch's Bend,
Come drink, brave river men.
We have ravaged glade and glen
Of the gold that none would lend,
Hoorah! Hoorah!
We hail the old sand bar,
Stretching round the near and far,
And our meeting none shall mar,
Hoorah! Hoorah!
We are rounding Bunch's Bend!
The boat gives a lurch as it strikes the mud, the pirates cease singing; they carry a load from the deck. It is a long box of black iron, and four men stagger beneath its weight. Landing it safely on shore, they tie the boat and proceed to a spot some twenty feet from the water's edge. Four small trees are so covered by the wild grape vine they form the posts of a summer house. Reaching their rendezvous, the pirates fall back. Only Bunch and his wife enter the enclosure of vines. The dark cruel eyes of the man look defiantly around the forest, the eyes of Conscience Cloyee glance timidly first into the face of her husband, then into the tangled brushwood. The moon comes from behind the drifting piles of smoke-pearl clouds, and sheds a weird radiance over the scene. Captain Bunch proceeds noiselessly to bury the treasury. An arrow whizzes thro’ the undergrowth. Conscience Cloyee falls, and the blood streams from her heart. Raising his head Bunch sees the malicious, cunning eyes of an Indian peering at him through the dim half light of the firest. He reaches for his pistol, but before he can use it, he is felled by a tomahawk. The red man gives a war whoop and darts like a panther through the woods. The pirates rush for their boat. They row furiously against the stream. The moon is hidden by a cloud. The wilderness is vast and silent."
"Late at night, in the month of May, 1766, the moon is hidden by clouds, the Mississippi river is dark and turbulent. The black hulk of the schooner Spy, tosses like a toy ship on the waves, a single yellow torchlight flares from the mast. Aboard the deck are some dozen men, rough, drunken, boisterous. On either side of the mighty, swollen stream they see only "the dark, awful impenetrable forests." Their coarse voices shock the stillness of the North Louisiana landscape. They half shout, half sing the words:
We are rounding Bunch's Bend,
Come drink, brave river men.
We have ravaged glade and glen
Of the gold that none would lend,
Hoorah! Hoorah!
We hail the old sand bar,
Stretching round the near and far,
And our meeting none shall mar,
Hoorah! Hoorah!
We are rounding Bunch's Bend!
The boat gives a lurch as it strikes the mud, the pirates cease singing; they carry a load from the deck. It is a long box of black iron, and four men stagger beneath its weight. Landing it safely on shore, they tie the boat and proceed to a spot some twenty feet from the water's edge. Four small trees are so covered by the wild grape vine they form the posts of a summer house. Reaching their rendezvous, the pirates fall back. Only Bunch and his wife enter the enclosure of vines. The dark cruel eyes of the man look defiantly around the forest, the eyes of Conscience Cloyee glance timidly first into the face of her husband, then into the tangled brushwood. The moon comes from behind the drifting piles of smoke-pearl clouds, and sheds a weird radiance over the scene. Captain Bunch proceeds noiselessly to bury the treasury. An arrow whizzes thro’ the undergrowth. Conscience Cloyee falls, and the blood streams from her heart. Raising his head Bunch sees the malicious, cunning eyes of an Indian peering at him through the dim half light of the firest. He reaches for his pistol, but before he can use it, he is felled by a tomahawk. The red man gives a war whoop and darts like a panther through the woods. The pirates rush for their boat. They row furiously against the stream. The moon is hidden by a cloud. The wilderness is vast and silent."
The Ghost of Bunch's Bend
Banner-Democrat, Aug. 1, 1896
This story is listed under the title, "Bunch's Bend".
"It is a gloomy evening. The air is heavy with electricity, the gray clouds deepen into a stormy slate, the rank weeds and the dark, green vines entwining the tree trunks droop till they touch the tangled grasses on the ground. They are weighted down by their wealth of leaves and berries. The volume of the Mississippi grows strong and turbulent; its yellow surface is lashed into white-capped waves, and great black masses of drift wood are borne on its current.
Old Harry Balfour watches, uncasily, the clouds, the earth, the water. "Sho is his time Miss", whispers the old man very slowly and with a tremor in his voice, "Sho is his time. Wait jest one min'--Thar! thar he goes!" cries the negro. Right thar through them underbrushes; thar whar the little white church stands; over yonder by them broken down grave stones."
We look toward the spot indicated, but see nothing save the elder bushes; the cypress trees, the yellowish red trumpet vines and the indistinct outlines of the little white chyurch. "What does he look like?" I asked. "is he white as a sheet and his body thin as a vapor?" "Lor! Lor, Miss!" and the old man laughs heartily. "He ain't no mo' like a regular hant than you is. He's jes like any other man, cepten his face; that's sorter, pale and skeerish; and his eyes, they's big and deep set, and looks like dark light in 'um. He wears a long gray blanket shawl that kivers him from his neck to hs feet, but once I seed him throw it off. Tha's the furst night he ever come to me. Then I seed the blue shirt what he had on. It wuz too big for 'im and open at the neck and around his belt wuz hung his knives and a little pistol and some strings and a yellowish bag, and he sez to me, "Harry", sez he, "My name is Bunch, and this very place whar you lives uster belong to me, and that's why its called Bunch's Bend. Do you hear? Its called ---". But by dis time I begin feeling sorter creepish and so sez I: "Yes, yes sir. Does you want somepen to eat?" and I starts out out of de bed. But no, Miss, dat man did'nt want nothin'. He did'nt want no corn bread, and he did'nt wan't no pork, and he didn'nt want nary bit of cake, and he did'nt want no watermillion; no, Miss. 'pon my word, he did'nt want no watermillion. All he wants wuz jes to tell me thar wuz a chest as big as he wuz, buried out thar in the grave yard and that it wuz full, Miss, mind you, plum full of gold.
Him and his chums, they hid it way 'fore de war, and it didn'nt belong to none of um, and now he says his speerit it can't get no rest til dat gold has done been found and given back to de ancestors of dem folks what he took it from.
A full good hundred years have passed since old Charon rowed the soul of Captain Bunch across the Styx (which narrow stream the river pirate doubtless found blacker than is the Mississippi on even the sotrmiest, blackest nights) and yet in the gloomy twilights old Balfour sees the long dead man wandering, wandering, wandering through the forest, looking always for the hidden, stolen treasure, tormented always by the memory of it, and longing oh, so intensely, for rest, blessed rest."
This story is listed under the title, "Bunch's Bend".
"It is a gloomy evening. The air is heavy with electricity, the gray clouds deepen into a stormy slate, the rank weeds and the dark, green vines entwining the tree trunks droop till they touch the tangled grasses on the ground. They are weighted down by their wealth of leaves and berries. The volume of the Mississippi grows strong and turbulent; its yellow surface is lashed into white-capped waves, and great black masses of drift wood are borne on its current.
Old Harry Balfour watches, uncasily, the clouds, the earth, the water. "Sho is his time Miss", whispers the old man very slowly and with a tremor in his voice, "Sho is his time. Wait jest one min'--Thar! thar he goes!" cries the negro. Right thar through them underbrushes; thar whar the little white church stands; over yonder by them broken down grave stones."
We look toward the spot indicated, but see nothing save the elder bushes; the cypress trees, the yellowish red trumpet vines and the indistinct outlines of the little white chyurch. "What does he look like?" I asked. "is he white as a sheet and his body thin as a vapor?" "Lor! Lor, Miss!" and the old man laughs heartily. "He ain't no mo' like a regular hant than you is. He's jes like any other man, cepten his face; that's sorter, pale and skeerish; and his eyes, they's big and deep set, and looks like dark light in 'um. He wears a long gray blanket shawl that kivers him from his neck to hs feet, but once I seed him throw it off. Tha's the furst night he ever come to me. Then I seed the blue shirt what he had on. It wuz too big for 'im and open at the neck and around his belt wuz hung his knives and a little pistol and some strings and a yellowish bag, and he sez to me, "Harry", sez he, "My name is Bunch, and this very place whar you lives uster belong to me, and that's why its called Bunch's Bend. Do you hear? Its called ---". But by dis time I begin feeling sorter creepish and so sez I: "Yes, yes sir. Does you want somepen to eat?" and I starts out out of de bed. But no, Miss, dat man did'nt want nothin'. He did'nt want no corn bread, and he did'nt wan't no pork, and he didn'nt want nary bit of cake, and he did'nt want no watermillion; no, Miss. 'pon my word, he did'nt want no watermillion. All he wants wuz jes to tell me thar wuz a chest as big as he wuz, buried out thar in the grave yard and that it wuz full, Miss, mind you, plum full of gold.
Him and his chums, they hid it way 'fore de war, and it didn'nt belong to none of um, and now he says his speerit it can't get no rest til dat gold has done been found and given back to de ancestors of dem folks what he took it from.
A full good hundred years have passed since old Charon rowed the soul of Captain Bunch across the Styx (which narrow stream the river pirate doubtless found blacker than is the Mississippi on even the sotrmiest, blackest nights) and yet in the gloomy twilights old Balfour sees the long dead man wandering, wandering, wandering through the forest, looking always for the hidden, stolen treasure, tormented always by the memory of it, and longing oh, so intensely, for rest, blessed rest."
Pirate Bunch's wife, Conscience Choyee, was King George I's servant
Part II, of Pirate Bunch history.
Pirate Bunch’s wife was Consience Cloyee--
"In January 1765, when the Colonial settlements were being tormented by the English government, King George I, with his usual short sightedness, sent to the puritanic village of Salem a ban of some two hundred odd soldiers for the purpose of spying on the inhabitants of that village. These soldiers made no small stir in the sober sided little village. [skipped their uniform and physical descriptions]
The little Quaker maidens had been so warned against them that they veritably believed the brilliant cavaliers were soldiers of the Evil One; nor would they any more dare to look at them and flirt with them than they would dare, on the solemn Sabbath day to laugh out loud, or go to an apple paring, or take one measure of the stately minuet.
One morning the house of Goodman Choyee was alarmed by the piteous moaning of its little Quaker mistress. She came into the dining room, her face whiter than the spotless kerchief around her neck, and handed her husband a note saying; “She’s been bewitched! She’s been bewitched! I saw old Beldame Martin looking at her with evil eye. Poor little Conscience! Poor little Conscience!” The placid Quaker mother wring her hands and wept bitterly. Meanwhile Goodman Cloyee read the note. It was from his daughter Conscience, (She whom her school mates called Tender Conscience because of her sensitively sweet and considerate character.) The few words told that she was married to one of the soldiers of the King: that the marriage was registered at the Custom House, and that when her parents read these words, she would be far away from them, traveling with her husband, where, she could not say. The note was so cold, so matter of fact, so unnatural, the parents concluded that beyond a doubt their child had been bewitched and was acting under some baleful spell. Goodman Cloyee arose wearily from the table and took his high steeple hat, and with a tottering gait, walked out on what then seemed to him the strangely changed, desolate streets of Salem. Faithe went into her daughter’s trim little room, folded each piece of finely woven linen and laid it onto a cedar chest, putting with it faint, sweet scented springs of old time lavender. Then kneeling down beside it, she prayed, prayed with a broken heart for the child she would rather far have had and lying before her calm and dead. The neighbors said that every morning, thro’ all the remaining years of their quiet, monotonous lives Goodman Cloyee and his wife Faithe, went first to the Custom House to see the registered marriage of his daughter, and to find it there was a letter from her; then repaired to her little room and prayed for her return.
Pirate Bunch’s wife was Consience Cloyee--
"In January 1765, when the Colonial settlements were being tormented by the English government, King George I, with his usual short sightedness, sent to the puritanic village of Salem a ban of some two hundred odd soldiers for the purpose of spying on the inhabitants of that village. These soldiers made no small stir in the sober sided little village. [skipped their uniform and physical descriptions]
The little Quaker maidens had been so warned against them that they veritably believed the brilliant cavaliers were soldiers of the Evil One; nor would they any more dare to look at them and flirt with them than they would dare, on the solemn Sabbath day to laugh out loud, or go to an apple paring, or take one measure of the stately minuet.
One morning the house of Goodman Choyee was alarmed by the piteous moaning of its little Quaker mistress. She came into the dining room, her face whiter than the spotless kerchief around her neck, and handed her husband a note saying; “She’s been bewitched! She’s been bewitched! I saw old Beldame Martin looking at her with evil eye. Poor little Conscience! Poor little Conscience!” The placid Quaker mother wring her hands and wept bitterly. Meanwhile Goodman Cloyee read the note. It was from his daughter Conscience, (She whom her school mates called Tender Conscience because of her sensitively sweet and considerate character.) The few words told that she was married to one of the soldiers of the King: that the marriage was registered at the Custom House, and that when her parents read these words, she would be far away from them, traveling with her husband, where, she could not say. The note was so cold, so matter of fact, so unnatural, the parents concluded that beyond a doubt their child had been bewitched and was acting under some baleful spell. Goodman Cloyee arose wearily from the table and took his high steeple hat, and with a tottering gait, walked out on what then seemed to him the strangely changed, desolate streets of Salem. Faithe went into her daughter’s trim little room, folded each piece of finely woven linen and laid it onto a cedar chest, putting with it faint, sweet scented springs of old time lavender. Then kneeling down beside it, she prayed, prayed with a broken heart for the child she would rather far have had and lying before her calm and dead. The neighbors said that every morning, thro’ all the remaining years of their quiet, monotonous lives Goodman Cloyee and his wife Faithe, went first to the Custom House to see the registered marriage of his daughter, and to find it there was a letter from her; then repaired to her little room and prayed for her return.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
East Carroll Guards go to Lake Charles, La.
July 11, 1896
The Banner-Democrat
The following is the roster of the East Carroll Guards that will attend the encampment at Lake Charles. They will leave tomorrow night on the Annie Laurie, and every person in our parish wishes the boys a pleasant trip and a safe return home:
R. N. Rea, Captain T. B. Davis, 1st Lieutenant
C. F. Davis, 1st Lieutenant W. R. Powell, 1st Sergeant
M. M. Goodwin, 2nd Sergeant C. K. Seghers, 1st Corporal
W. J. Blansfield, 4th Corporal M. B. Deeson, Color Sergeant
Captain J. S. Guenard, Ordinance Officer
PRIVATES: J. W. Barber, E. W. Belden, Ed Frost, J. L. Kennedy, W. H. McCulloch, T. E. Pinkston, C. A. Webb, T. S. Delony, C. E. Barwick, J. B. Brown,l Paul Gardham, S. B. Kennedy,. J. P. McCutchen, F. H. Schneider, R. L. McKee, James Beard, Jr., and Urias Conn, Armorer.
Mrs. Joseph E. Ransdell, Chaperon Miss Kittie McCulloch, Sponsor
Miss Nannie Rhodes, 1st Maid of Honor
Miss Dollie Kennedy, 2nd Maid of Honor
Miss Nellie Montgomery, 3rd Maid of Honor
The following persons will accompany the soldiers on the encampment: Rev. C. D. Mack and wife, Hon. J. E. Ransdell, E. J. Delony, and others.
The Banner-Democrat
The following is the roster of the East Carroll Guards that will attend the encampment at Lake Charles. They will leave tomorrow night on the Annie Laurie, and every person in our parish wishes the boys a pleasant trip and a safe return home:
R. N. Rea, Captain T. B. Davis, 1st Lieutenant
C. F. Davis, 1st Lieutenant W. R. Powell, 1st Sergeant
M. M. Goodwin, 2nd Sergeant C. K. Seghers, 1st Corporal
W. J. Blansfield, 4th Corporal M. B. Deeson, Color Sergeant
Captain J. S. Guenard, Ordinance Officer
PRIVATES: J. W. Barber, E. W. Belden, Ed Frost, J. L. Kennedy, W. H. McCulloch, T. E. Pinkston, C. A. Webb, T. S. Delony, C. E. Barwick, J. B. Brown,l Paul Gardham, S. B. Kennedy,. J. P. McCutchen, F. H. Schneider, R. L. McKee, James Beard, Jr., and Urias Conn, Armorer.
Mrs. Joseph E. Ransdell, Chaperon Miss Kittie McCulloch, Sponsor
Miss Nannie Rhodes, 1st Maid of Honor
Miss Dollie Kennedy, 2nd Maid of Honor
Miss Nellie Montgomery, 3rd Maid of Honor
The following persons will accompany the soldiers on the encampment: Rev. C. D. Mack and wife, Hon. J. E. Ransdell, E. J. Delony, and others.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The Murder of Sheriff Bernard McGuire
Contributor is Lora Peppers:
Sandy, thought you would like to add the account of Bernard's death I just found in a Bastrop, LA newspaper. It seems he was Marshall of the town of Lake Providence when he was killed. As far as I know, he is the only town of Lake Providence Law Enforcement official to die in the line of duty. Also, when the DAR indexed the cemetery in the 1950's, they read his age as 27 years old.
Morehouse Clarion, January 16, 1880, Page 2, Column 3
The Lake Providence Murder.
The course pursued by the citizens of Providence toward the crew of a coal boat which anchored at that place is frowned upon by all good citizens everywhere. It seems that the crew of the coal boat and a potato boat went out into the town and, after drinking to drunkenness, some of the crew became noisy, and threatened "to take the place." Their boisterous demonstrations brought to the front City Marshal McGuire, who demanded the surrender of the drunken roust-a-bouts. Jim Brown, who was the noisiest and most demonstrative, and the Marshal clinched and the two pistol shots were heard. The Marshal was killed. The frightened crew then ran to their boats. In a few minutes a crowd of armed men went to the river, arrested the whole crew, captain and pilot. They were taken to the Mayor's office, placed in line on benches, and as their names were called, the brother of the Marshal began firing, fatally wounding three of the helpless prisoners. This was done after the drunken crew had surrendered to the city and civil authorities.
We are sorry that such an impolitic step was taken by the people of Providence. Defiance of law impugns its authority, and correspondingly engenders a disrespect for those whose duty it is to administer it.
The criminal code of Louisiana is sufficiently broad and severe to cover all such crimes as that committed upon the Marshal of Lake Providence. For a set of exasperated men to set aside the legal authorities and inflict summary vengeance upon a supposed criminal, is the work of heathens rather than the act of a civilized people. Such deplorable outrages reflect not only upon the people of one community, but they injure the people of the whole State. No stranger will be favorably impressed with Louisiana when he hears of the Lake Providence murder. Who knows but that very affair may turn scores of emigrants from the shores of our State? Alas! such occurrences are too often repeated.
Sandy, thought you would like to add the account of Bernard's death I just found in a Bastrop, LA newspaper. It seems he was Marshall of the town of Lake Providence when he was killed. As far as I know, he is the only town of Lake Providence Law Enforcement official to die in the line of duty. Also, when the DAR indexed the cemetery in the 1950's, they read his age as 27 years old.
Morehouse Clarion, January 16, 1880, Page 2, Column 3
The Lake Providence Murder.
The course pursued by the citizens of Providence toward the crew of a coal boat which anchored at that place is frowned upon by all good citizens everywhere. It seems that the crew of the coal boat and a potato boat went out into the town and, after drinking to drunkenness, some of the crew became noisy, and threatened "to take the place." Their boisterous demonstrations brought to the front City Marshal McGuire, who demanded the surrender of the drunken roust-a-bouts. Jim Brown, who was the noisiest and most demonstrative, and the Marshal clinched and the two pistol shots were heard. The Marshal was killed. The frightened crew then ran to their boats. In a few minutes a crowd of armed men went to the river, arrested the whole crew, captain and pilot. They were taken to the Mayor's office, placed in line on benches, and as their names were called, the brother of the Marshal began firing, fatally wounding three of the helpless prisoners. This was done after the drunken crew had surrendered to the city and civil authorities.
We are sorry that such an impolitic step was taken by the people of Providence. Defiance of law impugns its authority, and correspondingly engenders a disrespect for those whose duty it is to administer it.
The criminal code of Louisiana is sufficiently broad and severe to cover all such crimes as that committed upon the Marshal of Lake Providence. For a set of exasperated men to set aside the legal authorities and inflict summary vengeance upon a supposed criminal, is the work of heathens rather than the act of a civilized people. Such deplorable outrages reflect not only upon the people of one community, but they injure the people of the whole State. No stranger will be favorably impressed with Louisiana when he hears of the Lake Providence murder. Who knows but that very affair may turn scores of emigrants from the shores of our State? Alas! such occurrences are too often repeated.
Contributor is Lora PeppersSandy, thought you would like to add the account of Bernard's death I just found in a Bastrop, LA newspaper. It seems he was Marshall of the town of Lake Providence when he was killed. As far as I know, he is the only town of Lake Providence Law Enforcement official to die in the line of duty. Also, when the DAR indexed the cemetery in the 1950's, they read his age as 27 years old.
Morehouse Clarion, January 16, 1880, Page 2, Column 3
The Lake Providence Murder.
The course pursued by the citizens of Providence toward the crew of a coal boat which anchored at that place is frowned upon by all good citizens everywhere. It seems that the crew of the coal boat and a potato boat went out into the town and, after drinking to drunkenness, some of the crew became noisy, and threatened "to take the place." Their boisterous demonstrations brought to the front City Marshal McGuire, who demanded the surrender of the drunken roust-a-bouts. Jim Brown, who was the noisiest and most demonstrative, and the Marshal clinched and the two pistol shots were heard. The Marshal was killed. The frightened crew then ran to their boats. In a few minutes a crowd of armed men went to the river, arrested the whole crew, captain and pilot. They were taken to the Mayor's office, placed in line on benches, and as their names were called, the brother of the Marshal began firing, fatally wounding three of the helpless prisoners. This was done after the drunken crew had surrendered to the city and civil authorities.
We are sorry that such an impolitic step was taken by the people of Providence. Defiance of law impugns its authority, and correspondingly engenders a disrespect for those whose duty it is to administer it.
The criminal code of Louisiana is sufficiently broad and severe to cover all such crimes as that committed upon the Marshal of Lake Providence. For a set of exasperated men to set aside the legal authorities and inflict summary vengeance upon a supposed criminal, is the work of heathens rather than the act of a civilized people. Such deplorable outrages reflect not only upon the people of one community, but they injure the people of the whole State. No stranger will be favorably impressed with Louisiana when he hears of the Lake Providence murder. Who knows but that very affair may turn scores of emigrants from the shores of our State? Alas! such occurrences are too often repeated.
Morehouse Clarion, January 16, 1880, Page 2, Column 3
The Lake Providence Murder.
The course pursued by the citizens of Providence toward the crew of a coal boat which anchored at that place is frowned upon by all good citizens everywhere. It seems that the crew of the coal boat and a potato boat went out into the town and, after drinking to drunkenness, some of the crew became noisy, and threatened "to take the place." Their boisterous demonstrations brought to the front City Marshal McGuire, who demanded the surrender of the drunken roust-a-bouts. Jim Brown, who was the noisiest and most demonstrative, and the Marshal clinched and the two pistol shots were heard. The Marshal was killed. The frightened crew then ran to their boats. In a few minutes a crowd of armed men went to the river, arrested the whole crew, captain and pilot. They were taken to the Mayor's office, placed in line on benches, and as their names were called, the brother of the Marshal began firing, fatally wounding three of the helpless prisoners. This was done after the drunken crew had surrendered to the city and civil authorities.
We are sorry that such an impolitic step was taken by the people of Providence. Defiance of law impugns its authority, and correspondingly engenders a disrespect for those whose duty it is to administer it.
The criminal code of Louisiana is sufficiently broad and severe to cover all such crimes as that committed upon the Marshal of Lake Providence. For a set of exasperated men to set aside the legal authorities and inflict summary vengeance upon a supposed criminal, is the work of heathens rather than the act of a civilized people. Such deplorable outrages reflect not only upon the people of one community, but they injure the people of the whole State. No stranger will be favorably impressed with Louisiana when he hears of the Lake Providence murder. Who knows but that very affair may turn scores of emigrants from the shores of our State? Alas! such occurrences are too often repeated.
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