Graveyard Stories 2023, Final Words # 1: “He didn’t even give me a chance…”

The last words uttered by Lawton Snyder Keith in the Bodcau Bayou bottom on December 31, 1937 were this unfinished sentence: “He didn’t even give me a chance…”

The death of Snyder Keith was an absolute fiasco from the beginning. But to understand how they got there, you have to understand a little about stock laws in the 1930’s in Louisiana. A lot of folks, most folks around north Louisiana, had their stock roaming around. This was common practice all over the country. The animals would be either branded or simply had their ears cut with a specific mark. Everyone knew everyone else’s mark and heaven help you if you killed the wrong critter. And that is how this story begins with the Keith boys taking one of their hogs.

Snyder and his brother Cullen were out looking for Cullen’s hog to kill it to butcher. They located the pig down in the Bodcau and shot it. The Keith’s were traveling by boat that day due to the water being up. By the time they had the pig loaded into the boat, trouble was up on them.

Claude Faircloth who was nearby said later he thought they were shooting at him, either on purpose or by accident. Now Claude’s story changed a few times because he also said he went down there to check to see whose pig they had killed. Later he said he knew whose pig it was but wanted to let them know that he didn’t want their hogs ranging out there anymore. Either way, he advanced on the Keith’s with little warning and his gun was loaded and ready.

Not surprisingly an argument broke out pretty quick. Cullen was unarmed as his gun was still in the boat. Cullen being the only eye-witness to the incident, said that Snyder did advance on Claude Faircloth but only after the yelling started. Faircloth raised his 30-30 and shot Snyder in the chest just below the heart. Cullen tried to go for his gun and Faircloth shot at the ground in front of him to prevent him from moving. Cullen is in a bind at this point, he really just wants to get his brother to safety.

Mr. Durden who was working nearby and who also ran the ferry heard all the commotion. He and two of his workers grabbed their firearms and headed into the woods to help. They found Cullen trying to get his brother into the boat. They were able to help him do so and Faircloth fled. Unfortunately, the water was so high and there was no way to get a car or wagon into the area where they were. They had to transfer Synder 5 times! Three times to another boat and twice in vehicles before they got him to the hospital in Shreveport. He would die later that night having quietly begged his brother not to leave his side because he was dying and to say “he never even gave me a chance…”

Witnesses would later testify that Faircloth had around 8 hogs in the Bodcau area and was taking it upon himself to stay nearby to “stop hog thieves.” He had insinuated that the Keith boys were some of the hog thieves. According to Cullen Keith, Snyder Keith had not shot at Faircloth at any point. The only rounds that had come from Keith’s gun were when they shot the hog. Snyder Keith also has a hard time shooting, he had lost partial use of his right arm in a car accident several years before which made it hard for him to shoot without being able to take a slow aim and brace the gun. There was little likelihood that he would have attempted to get into a gunfight with Faircloth anyway.

The police investigation was hindered due to flood waters and evidence may have been lost due to this. The Keith family went back into the area looking for clues and found a couple of spent shells but these could not be directly linked to Snyder Keith’s gun. And he had been shooting at the pig just before the fight started so it stood to reason that there would be spent casings. All of the circumstantial evidence would be inconclusive.

The trial was absolutely sensational. It went for several days and it all boiled down to Cullen’s testimony versus Claude Faircloth. Character witnesses were brought in. And in the end, the jury found that Faircloth had acted in self-defense fearing for his life that day.

Lawton Snyder Keith is buried in Lay Cemetery in Benton, Louisiana. Cullen Keith is buried in Hillcrest Memorial Park in Red Chute, Louisiana. Cullen lived to be 88 years old, a beloved grandfather.

Note that Snyder’s marker has the wrong year of death, he died in December 31, 1937.

And Claude Faircloth who made quite sure that nobody was “stealing hogs” on the Bodcau? Well he is buried in Bellevue Cemetery in Bellevue, Louisiana.

Situations such as this one is why stock laws changed in the south. In fact, dispute over the ownership of a hog is what escalated the Hatfield and McCoy feud. We would discover in this part of the country that good fences do indeed make good neighbors.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Final Words #3: “If I get back, I will walk.”

In 1932, Winifred Christopher was very sad. She had had a rough few years and now she was facing a major illness alone. She must have been very scared.

Winifred had been born into a wealthy family in Monroe, Louisiana in 1898. Her father was Dr. Graham Surghnor who was an early specialist in his field of ears, nose and throat. When she was grown she married into another wealthy Monroe family when she married Filhiol Breard. She went on to have two children with him and at some point, the marriage fell apart.

By 1932, Winifred was living in Shreveport and divorced from Breard. Her children lived with their father and sometimes stayed with Winifred’s mother and also they were very close to their uncle Robert Breard. Robert especially loved his niece and nephew and provided for them in his will and paid for their higher education. Winifred had married another fellow by the name of Christopher. When she became ill, Christopher abandoned her.

On April 13, 1932, Winifred had been released from the local sanitarium after a 10 day stay for some unnamed illness. When she got home, she found that her current husband had packed up and left. It doesn’t seem that she contacted any of her Monroe family.

Winifred called for a cab to pick her up from her home on Stoner avenue. A Mr. Scoog was the cab driver that day. Winifred directed him to drive her downtown and wait outside of a store. She went in and purchased a pistol and some ammunition. She got back into the cab and had Scoog drive her around Shreveport for about 2 hours. She even had him drive her around Cross Lake, she seemed aimless.

At about 5 pm, she had Scoog let her out at the intersection of Broadmoor Boulevard and Stephens Street. She paid the cab fee of $3 and gave him a twenty-five cent tip. Scoog initially drove away but then he became worried because it would be hard for Winnifred to find a cab out there. He drove back and asked her if he should wait. She said: “Don’t worry, if I get back I will walk back!” She smiled and turned away.

Well Scoog was so worried about her that he drove to the nearest police station and told them that he had been driving a woman around who was acting strangely. He told them where he left her and two detectives went there to go check. They found her dead by her own hand under a large oak tree. She had shot herself through the heart with the gun she had just bought.

Winifred Surghnor Breard Christopher’s body was brought back to Monroe, Louisiana and buried in the Old City Cemetery in the Surghnor family plot. She was buried with her maiden name on her marker. From what I understand, they weren’t able to reach her last husband. And Filhiol Breard had died the previous year in a car accident while on his way to go duck hunting. This left her children orphaned.

However, the children’s Uncle Robert made sure that they were well taken care of and they grew up to be successful folks. Ironically Winifred’s daughter Winnie would die at an early age as well. Winnie Breard Reichler was an accomplished musician and singer. She had left her child in the care of friends while she toured overseas. Winnie was rushing in her car to Springfield, Illinois to see her son after several months of being apart and tragically she collided with a train and died within a few hours.

Old City Cemetery, Monroe, Louisiana.

Filhiol’s grave at St. Matthew Catholic Cemetery in Monroe, Louisiana; it is about two blocks from the Old City Cemetery.

Winifred’s daughter Winnie Reichler.

Winnie is also buried at St. Matthews.

I wish that this family had had happier endings.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Final words #2: “To hell with you, you will have to catch me!”

On July 17, 1933, the Ashley County Sheriff’s department was closing in on a fellow named George Tullos who had stopped at the farm of a fellow named Kelly. Mr. Kelly evidently didn’t know who he had staying with him or likely he would have sent him on his way!

George Tullos is a character surrounded in mystery. He was said to have been a successful prize fighter and wrestler in the 1920’s but had fallen on hard times and turned to a life of crime. By 1933 he was being housed in the Drew County jail on charges of grand larceny and burglary.

He escaped from the Drew County jail and found his way to the Kelly farm which was about 6 miles north of Crossett, Arkansas. Mr. Kelly housed him and put him to work on the farm. Someone tipped off the authorities and they arrived in July 17 to serve a warrant and arrest Tullos.

Tullos spotted the officers and ran into the woods. After about two hours, the deputies captured him without a struggle. Tullos asked the deputy to take him back to the Kelly residence so he could get his belongings. Initially the sheriff denied him this request but he carried on so much that the sheriff agreed to stop and let him inside.

Once inside the house, Tullos made another break for it. He ran past the deputy outside and shouted, “to hell with you, you will have to catch me!”

The deputy called for Tullos to stop running but he kept on. The deputy then opened fire and shot Tullos. George Tullos died in the Kelly farm yard. A sad ending to a promising career.

I tried to find more about Tullos as far as his fighting days but I didn’t come across anything. He was married at the time of his death and had 3 daughters. His widow remarried and it appears that the girls took their step father’s last name.

What I did find was Tullos’ death certificate which confirms that he was shot to death and says that he was buried at Carlock Cemetery in Hamburg, Arkansas. It seems that he has no marker, and it is unclear if he ever did.

Graveyard Stories, Night #30: Wrong Place, Wrong Time

I grew up in Haile, Louisiana. Anybody that’s from there can tell you that there isn’t much to the settlement anymore but it was once a busy town. But towns come and they go. Those who are old enough remember when the trains came through. By the time I was a little girl there, it was mostly freight trains which were loaded with material heading for local mills. By the time I was grown, the trains had stopped altogether and the tracks had been removed. I have taken the time to take my kids out to show them the rail bed and even portions of rail which are embedded in the road where the train crossings were. The bed has grown so much now that you can barely see it. And soon it will gone, too. So one day, when someone reads what I am about to tell you, they are going to say: “that’s impossible, there aren’t train tracks in Haile!”

On November 8, 1906, a train left Monroe, Louisiana bound for El Dorado, Arkansas amongst several stops. In those days, trains were powered by steam engines and required both an engineer and a fireman. Also called a stoker or a water tender, the fireman had a very physically demanding job which was to shovel coal into the firebox, keep the fire going to keep the water pressure up for the powering of the steam locomotive. These boys worked in shifts and would relieve each other. It was also normal for them to provide meals for the oncoming fireman.

On that fateful day, Claiborne Boyd Haden had finished up his shift but he forgot to bring lunch for the oncoming fireman Sam Fite. Due to this unfortunate situation, Haden agreed to make the next run without rest nor food instead of making Fite do it without his dinner. Arthur Mason was the engineer that evening, both boys had come from working in Natchez recently and were staying in Felsenthal. The train left the station on schedule from Monroe that evening at 3:30 pm.

All was going well and the engine was running smoothly as they approached Haile, Louisiana around 6:00 pm. Rounding a curve in the train track, there was a cow standing broadside. The train struck the cow and the engine and the first car derailed and overturned. The passenger cars were jarred pretty harshly but they did not turn over nor did anyone aboard those cars get seriously injured. Mason and Haden were dead.

Mason was scalded to death when the boiled exploded on impact and Haden was mangled and crushed. In the days following the accident, the train company would admit that the engine of the locomotive that killed those boys had been condemned due to structural problems which did contribute to their deaths, namely the cow catcher was defective and this is what caused the derailment. I believe that the railroad company was nice enough to pay for the boys funerals…indeed.

Arthur Mason, aged 25, was shipped to his hometown of Vicksburg, Mississippi and buried in Cedar Hill Cemetery. Ironically, his brother Harvey would be killed the following February in Yazoo City in a train accident as well. Harvey was helping another employee hook two cars together when he was crushed between them. This was a terrible ordeal for their parents.

Arthur Mason, Engineer of the train which derailed in Haile, Louisiana.

Harvey Mason who would follow his brother to the grave the following year in another train accident in Yazoo City, Mississippi.

C. Boyd Haden was shipped to Moberly, Missouri where his family lived. Sam Fite took it upon himself to accompany the body of his friend knowing that he was supposed to be on the train that evening. Haden is buried in Columbia Cemetery, Boone County, Missouri. He does not appear to have a stone at this time. I was surprised by this because his family seemed to be well-to-do but the only one of his immediate family that was marked is his brother Kirby. His mother passed away before him and his father eventually married again and moved to Colorado.

The Joel Haden house in Columbia, Missouri around 1890. This house was built by either Boyd Haden’s great Uncle or his grandfather. Unclear as to which Joel Haden’s home this is.

Haden Family Plot in Columbia Cemetery, Columbia, Missouri

But having lived in Haile for half my life, I was surprised that I had never heard about this tragedy that occurred about 1/2 of a mile from where I grew up. As a child, I used to listen for the train whistle to blow at the crossing near my house. Somehow that sound was comforting to me. Even now when I have to stay somewhere that is near train tracks, the sounds of the trains do not bother my sleep. And I hope dearly that those poor young men are resting in peace. And I sincerely hope that the folks that turned them out in a defective steam engine death trap on that November afternoon deeply regretted their mistake.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night #29: The Butterfly Man

In 1934, Louisiana was the star of the newspapers. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow’s reign of terror came to a sudden end near Gibsland, Louisiana but Louisiana had already been in the headlines all over the country for weeks before that due to a largely forgotten brutal murder that took place in Shreveport.

In 1934, an odd little vagrant was wandering the streets of Shreveport. Most folks considered him weird but harmless. DB Napier had come to town as a hobo on a freight train as did a lot of others. It was the Great Depression and a lot of folks did such as that. Napier had the curious habit of making little butterflies out of any scrap of material he could find and selling them to the citizens of Shreveport for a nickel apiece. This earned him the nickname of “The Butterfly Man.”

On April 12, 1934, Napier spoke to a Mrs. Peters who had a teenaged daughter named Mae Griffin. He told her that his wife was very ill and that he needed help around the house for the day. He asked specifically for “a white girl who needed some work.” Well as it turns out, Mae Griffin was looking to earn a little extra money. She was engaged to be married to a young man named Lee Looney of Board Camp, Arkansas. Mae was really wanting to save up enough money to get a new dress, shoes and stockings for her wedding day. Mrs. Peters mentioned that 16 year-old Mae was looking for work and asked her if she wanted to help. Mae had better instincts than most and told her mom she didn’t really like Napier but that she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to earn that $3. So she went with him.

Mae was led into the woods by Napier who then attacked her. He sexually assaulted her and stabbed her to death. The coroner would later testify that she had a lot of defensive wounds and that her hands were “cut to pieces.” Mae Griffin literally fought her attacker to her death. Once she was dead he dragged up some pieces of wood and attempted to burn her body. The dampness of the area caused the fire to go out.

A couple days later, two men found Mae’s body as they were walking through the area to go fishing. The police knew this was the girl who had been reported missing by her frantic mother. She was identified by family and her mother told police that she left the home in the company of Napier. Napier had left town.

Napier was captured near Monroe, Louisiana a few days after the murder. The people of Shreveport wanted blood and the National Guard had to be deployed to protect Napier from being lynched. And it was almost impossible because nearly 5,000 angry citizens showed up to drag him out of the jail. They had to be dispersed with tear gas.

The state of Louisiana wasted no time in getting the trial started. Only 8 days after Mae’s body had been found, the trial began. And in the swiftest justice that I have ever personally read, the trial lasted ONE day and the jury deliberated for FIVE minutes before delivering the guilty verdict. They actually wanted to hang Napier that Friday. At the time, thirty days legally had to elapse between sentencing and execution in Louisiana but the Governor waived that and Napier’s execution was scheduled for May 18, 1934.

Napier was emotionless during the trial and provided one last taunt to the family as he ascended the stairs to the gallows in the Caddo Courthouse: he turned and smiled at them and said, “I will see her in heaven.”

When the trap sprang, Napier kicked for about 10 minutes before he ceased to move. It was found that he had used at least one other name: Fred Lockhart. He had been involved in a lynching in Alabama shortly before arriving in Louisiana. Many suspect he was involved in other murders. To this day, nobody is sure what The Butterfly Man’s true identity is. He is buried in the potter’s field area of Greenwood Cemetery in Shreveport and he is not marked…purposefully. The town neither wanted him to become a gruesome tourist attraction nor did they want the enraged crowd to dig him back up!

Maggie Mae Griffin (spelled Giffin on her tombstone, not sure if that was an error or if that was her real name, her family members said Griffin was correct) is buried in Lower Big Fork Cemetery in Polk County, Arkansas where her family was from.

Mae Griffin

Mae Griffin with her fiancé Lee Looney, they were set to be married in a few weeks.

The Home of Mae Griffin in 1934 Shreveport, this is where she was last seen alive before she left with Napier.

DB Napier, also known as Fred Lockhart who was hanged for the murder of Mae Griffin, May 18, 1934. The Butterfly Man.

A picture of a butterfly made by Napier

Police investigate the crime scene.

Mae’s final resting place. Note the misspellings on her marker.

This was the biggest story in the nation for several weeks, until the end of Bonnie and Clyde in 1934. Napier was executed a mere 5 days before Bonnie and Clyde were shot to death in Gibsland making North Louisiana a macabre headline in the history books!

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 28: Old Bones on Display

So way back in the day, for a time there was a type of coffin that was available for purchase which was dang near indestructible! The Fisk Cast-iron coffin. Now most of us know that despite everyone’s best efforts, our earthly remains will return to dust at some point, no matter what the casket manufacturers try to tell you. But in the case of the Fisk iron coffin, they were amazingly preservative. And they were apparently pretty popular amongst the elite of the late 1800’s as we are still digging these things up by accident on the regular.

By 1923, the Fisk Company had gone out of business and a lot of the population had never even heard of them. So when an old iron coffin got unearthed, it was big news. And it would draw a crowd from miles around who were interested in taking a peek at the contents.

In Avoyelles parish at the Joffrion family cemetery, an aged man who cared for the grounds made a startling discovery while cutting grass one day, the old brick vault of Captain JC Joffrion had become broken and the edge of a really old relic of an iron coffin was peeking out. Captain Joffrion (a steamboat captain) had died in St. Louis in 1870. His remains had been hermetically sealed into the iron coffin and his body had been brought to the home place in Mansura to rest. When his coffin popped out that day, his son Joseph did the only reasonable thing and took his daddy’s coffin to Bunkie and put the ancient corpse on display!

A special thing about the Fisk Iron Coffin is that it had a lid which covered a viewing glass, so once the iron lid had been pried off, old Captain’s mummified body was visible but protected by the intact glass. Joffrion invited folks to come see for themselves and they jumped at the chance.

The oldest of the old timers walked right up and said that Captain looked just about as good as he did the day he was buried! With the exception of his eyeballs now appeared to be missing. But his hair and even his beard were still intact after 56 years. Captain’s grandson, AA Gremillion went to the local paper in Alexandria and had them run an invite as well. All were welcome to come the Captain’s coffin and his well preserved body. For an admission fee, of course.

On July 18, 1923, the State Health department got wind of the fact that Joffrion was charging people a nickel to look at his daddy’s mummified corpse and immediately went to Bunkie and shut the whole thing down! The horrified health inspector ordered them to re bury the Captain at once. And as far as I could tell in records, this is what happened. But did they bury him at the old home place again, I don’t know. The rest of the Joffrion family is buried at St. Paul the Apostle Catholic Cemetery in Mansura so I suspect he may have ended up there in an unmarked grave to prevent any more post-mortem wandering.

Joffrion Family Plot, could the old Captain be resting there in his iron coffin.

The following year in 1924 in St. Tammany Parish, worker were preparing a gravesite for a member of the Bulloch family when one of the grave diggers hit something metallic with a pickaxe. Curious, he knelt down and was amazed to see a small metallic coffin. Once he cleaned the viewing window he could clearly see the imaging of a very young girl who appeared to be perfectly preserved. He summoned Dr. HD Bulloch who was fascinated with the find. They reported that the girls face was so well preserved that the pores of her skin could be seen and even her tiny eyelashes and eyebrows. The only thing they noted was that her burial shroud had turned brown. They unearthed a name plate which read Gilbert. Discussion with locals lead to the conclusion that the child had been buried for around 60 years maybe longer. Unfortunately, when the pickaxe hit the coffin, it punctured a hole in it. Once the air began to come into contact with the body, she began to decompose rapidly and her skin took on a discolored appearance. I believe that she was reburied nearby in an unmarked grave. There are a few Gilbert’s that are known to be buried in that cemetery. But the actual identity of the child was never discovered.

The Bulloch Family crypt where an interloper in an iron coffin was evicted to make room for the family crypt.

But before either of these two cases, an old iron coffin was unearthed in Shreveport in 1901. On the morning of May 28, 1901. Workers were grading a section of road when the plow struck something hard. The force of the plow had actually pushed the coffin partially out of the ground and exposed the remains. When the worker who was using the plow walked around to see what he had hit, he literally came face to face with the well preserved corpse of a young lady. Terrified, he began to scream and ran down the road as fast as he could to get away from the startling sight. One might assume that he may have never gotten over his fright!

Soon a crowd had gathered as authorities tried to figure out who the girl was. Most striking was the thick mane of auburn hair that framed her face. Her burial clothes still perfectly preserved. The area had been known for a disposal area of murder victims previously but this was no murder victim, nor had any of the victims been buried in anything other than a hastily dug trench. Recently the town of Shreveport had made great strides in removing the criminals from the area. It had been cleaned up and divided into tracts to sell for houses. Nobody knew of a burial ground having ever been in the area.

And again what happens with those who have been buried in Fisk Coffins began to occur with this young lady. Due to the damage to the seal of the coffin, she began to decompose rapidly and the powers that be quickly gathered her up, coffin and all and reburied her unceremoniously in the Potter’s Field. This is likely to have been in the corner of Greenwood Cemetery where, even to this day, this area is still set aside for indigent burials. But alas, they did not mark her grave and so we don’t know where this young mystery woman’s grave is exactly.

For further reading and to look at a couple of the mummies that have been unearthed in other places, here are a couple of links!

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/morbid-monday-fisk-mummy-case

Mary Camp Roberts

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 27: Unsolved

The date of death on the marker that I am sharing this evening is incorrect. If it were, then young Pete Kokinos would have died on this night 86 years ago. However he was already quite dead by October 27, 1937… but how did he get that way?

Pete Kokinos was the son of Gus Kokinos who was a well established business man of the Monroe, Louisiana area. Gus was born in Greece in 1889 and married an Italian born girl named Mary Battaglia in Monroe. Gus opened an Ice Cream parlor and later a factory. Gus Kokinos was also involved in politics, but not what we would know as official politics but of the underground type politics. A group of business men who were raised in Chicago and called their corner of Monroe: “Little Chicago.” They were dedicated to keeping things running smoothly in their neck of the Monroe area.

Gus had just been re-elected as mayor of Little Chicago when his son, Pete, disappeared on the night of September 27, 1937.

At first Gus and Mary were not too concerned. Pete was a little odd and had left home for several days before. In fact, during that same spring he disappeared for several days and later returned home saying that he had been in New Orleans and was planning to move there to attend art school.

On September 27, 1937, Pete was last reported being seen alive by a girlfriend who spent a couple hours visiting him at an ice cream store that he himself ran. She left briefly to do an errand and when she returned, she reported that the shop was locked up tight so she went home. According to papers, this was around 9 pm.

After about a week, Pete’s parents became concerned because he had never stayed gone that long and they reported him missing. Within a few days, a man who was going to the river to fish would find a badly decomposed body in the old brick yard near Grammont street. Pete was been beaten severely and then shot while he was laying unconscious on the ground. His remains were in such bad condition, that he was identified by his clothing and his signet ring that he wore which was still on the usual finger. It did not appear that robbery was a motive.

The area in which Pete was found had been used by the hobos for a camp ground. He had been killed and left there with his feet in the water of a pond. Awards were quickly offered but no information was forth-coming.

Gus quietly resigned his post as mayor of Little Chicago in 1938.

Pete is buried in St. Matthews Catholic Cemetery in Monroe, Louisiana. His murder was never solved.

Gus and Mary Kokinos in an undated photo.

If there was any connection with the politics of “Little Chicago” and the death of Pete, none was ever reported.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 26: The Murder of Ada Jolley

Let me start by saying that it’s rare that I start reading into an incident where I want to know that someone was punished, but sometimes something happens that is so evil that I truly hope that justice was served. In this case, I was disappointed.

In 1926, a young woman named Ada Jolley was living with her mother and her step father in Rhinehart, Louisiana. Her life was neither happy nor easy. Her father had died in 1916 and her mother Martha had remarried to a German man named Smidt (some papers spelled it Schmidt and it really doesn’t matter because that was not his real name anyway). So Martha never truly knew her second husband. It is likely she did not know that he had been discharged from the German Navy in 1910 for “fits” nor that his real name was Johannes Walter. She likely underestimated just how evil he truly was until it was far too late.

By 1926, Ada’s older sisters were married and out of the house. I don’t know if they suffered the abuse that Ada did but I know that they remained close with her and were checking on her often. They were concerned. Ada was being molested by her step-father, she may not have told them this but I believe they suspected it. Around August 22, 1926, John Smidt caught Ada talking to one of her older sisters privately. The sister intended to do something to get her siblings out of the home after Ada had revealed the truth. Also, Ada had told her sister that she was concerned that she (Ada) might be pregnant. Smidt began to brood all evening and began to drink and swear in German. The girls had not confronted him yet, but plans were in place…

Unfortunately, Smidt had other plans. While the family slept, he took an axe and hacked Ada to death. Afterward he attacked his wife with the axe but failed to kill her. Smidt went out the shed and found a length of rope, he went into the woods and fashioned himself a noose and stood on a log. He later testified that he decided not to kill himself when his dog came to him and whined. He went into the swamp nearby and wandered for a while until the authorities came looking for him.

Initially remorseful, Smidt soon became emotionless when discussing the killing of Ada and the severe wounding of his wife. He blamed all of their family troubles on his step-children and said that Ada talking to her sister and ignoring him had “hurt his feelings.” It was soon obvious that Smidt had no regret for his actions. When asked by the jailer if he had family in Germany that he would like to contact, Smidt said he had family but did not want them to know what kind of trouble he was in.

So then a strange event began to occur. There was much debate on whether Smidt was insane or not. Or whether he was simply insane at the time of the killings! He was examined by several psychologists at the Central State Hospital and was finally declared competent to stand trial for the murder. Not surprisingly, he was found guilty due to his lengthy confession after being arrested. And was sentenced to hang…I sorely wanted to read that this had happened.

Instead a new debate began! His doctors who initially declared him sane enough for trial decided that he was not sane enough to execute! The state officials balked at commuting his sentence, they essentially told the doctors that if he was too crazy to be executed then they should have declared him insane to begin with. Eventually the doctors had their way and wore the Governor down enough to commute John Smidt’s sentence to life in prison. And from what I can tell, that’s where he finished out his days.

Martha Smidt would live another 3 years after the attack. She never recovered. From what I understand, her death was a direct result of the injuries that she received that night. She too was a murder victim, it just took her a lot more time and misery to die. She and Ada are buried in Pinegrove Baptist Church Cemetery as as many of Ada’s siblings. Most of them grew to old age and hopefully were able to outlive the tragedy.

Martha gave birth to two children by Smidt. A boy who died at the age of 6 months and also a little girl who grew up and became a beloved grandmother.

I’m also not sure when Smidt’s true identity was discovered but I feel certain he had more secrets that maybe nobody really wants to know.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 25: The Two Burials of Captain Thompson.

One hundred twenty eight years ago on this day, Jonas Rosenthal had decided to have a new fence placed around his yard in Alexandria, Louisiana. Jonas, not wanting to tackle such an enormous job himself, had hired some fence builders to do this chore for him. In the process of building this nice newer fence, his workers made a ghastly discovery!

On October 25, 1895, work at the Rosenthal’s place ceased for the day when the workers broke through something that should not have been there, a very old coffin. And a quick look inside of the coffin revealed human bones! For a few minutes, everyone stood around scratching their heads and trying to figure out who it was and how he came to be there.

At this point, some of the old timers of the community were consulted. Well this is no mystery, they said, that is the grave of Captain JD Thompson who died aboard the Queen of the West which was anchored near Alexandria. Captain Thompson was a Federal officer who had been shot through the knee when the Queen of the West had been fired upon by civilians. Records do not indicate the exact date of death but it appears that the wound, while not initially fatal, caused a severe infection and sepsis from which he did not recover.

The old timers were shocked. Why everyone knew that Captain Thompson was buried there! But as it turns out, Jonas Rosenthal had no idea that Thompson had lain in his front yard for more than 30 years.

The superintendent of the National Cemetery in Pineville, Louisiana was notified and began arrangements to bury the bones of the fallen soldier at the cemetery. And this was accomplished where Captain Thompson rests to this day. He now has a marker in a military cemetery which is full of soldiers from many other wars. But not many know that his rest was disturbed only by chance when a fence builder unearthed him.

And what about Jonas Rosenthal? Having served the Confederacy in the Company K, 3rd Louisiana Cavalry, also having served the entirety of the American Civil War as a staunch Confederate…I cannot imagine his surprise to find out that a Union Navy Captain had been buried in his front yard for 30 years! Rosenthal was a businessman who owned a grocery store. He was a well liked fellow and remembered very fondly by his children, nieces and nephews. In fact, much of the town called him “Uncle Jonas.” He died in January of 1930 at the age of 86. He is buried in the Jewish Cemetery in Pineville, Lousiana.

Graveyard Stories, Night # 24: The Murder of George Ketron

As with so many of these stories, I start to follow the leads from the story to try to find out where everyone lands after the event. In those case, I discovered that a bunch of transient characters seemed to have gathered in Bastrop, Louisiana for a murder…and then left for lands unknown!

HH Dougherty (sometimes spelled Daugherty or Doherty) aged 35 lived in Bastrop with his wife. They ran the Maxwell’s restaurant and also rented rooms out of their home to boarders. Dougherty had rented a room out to a fellow named George Ketron (sometimes spelled differently as well: Ketchron or Ketchrin). And this is where the trouble started.

George Ketron was married with one small son. His wife and son were living in Monroe, Louisiana although they were from Tennessee. Ketron was working temporarily with the new paper mill in Bastrop to get the machinery running. So he would live with the Doughertys during the week and would stay in Monroe with his family on weekends. And so it was rumored that George and Mrs. Dougherty got along very well and quickly formed a friendship. Despite Mr. Dougherty’s suspicions, I strongly believe that there actually was no infidelity involved. But Mr. Dougherty was very unhappy that Ketron and his wife got along so well. So he sat around and stewed over it for several weeks. In the meantime, Ketron and Mrs. Dougherty continued on with their daily lives seemingly oblivious to Mr. Dougherty’s sulking.

And so it came to pass that Mr. Dougherty had to go out of town for a few days on business and he came back into town convinced that Mrs. Dougherty and George Ketron had had relations while he was gone. In fact, he was so paranoid that he had convinced himself that Ketron had forced himself on Mrs. Dougherty! There is no evidence that anything untoward ever occurred between Ketron and Mrs. Dougherty other than his many compliments on her cooking.

Finally, Mr. Dougherty had had enough. He would avenge his wife! He was at his restaurant working when he saw Ketron walk into the barber shop across the street. HH Dougherty walked into the shop and found Ketron in the first chair, Ketron was laying back with the hot towel on his face.

“Getting a haircut, George?” Dougherty said, and then he drew his weapon and shot Ketron in the head. The bullet went into the side of Ketron’s head and exited from his chest due to the angle that he was laying. He literally had no chance to defense himself. The bullet severed his carotid artery and immediately he began to bleed profusely in front of the horrified barbershop patrons. Within minutes, George was laying dead in the barber chair and the shop was covered in blood. The barber JW Pierce went for the doctor but it was never going to help. Everyone exited the barber shop quickly during the bleeding and shooting so the police had the unusual ability in 1925 to see the undisturbed crime scene. HH Dougherty was taken into custody.

Once in jail he began to tell his side of the story which was that Ketron had attacked Mrs. Dougherty and that he had insulted her. Mrs. Dougherty seemed bewildered. There had been no affair, no attack, nothing other than laughing and joking over dinner that they all shared together. She certainly had no idea why her husband shot Ketron. In the end, it appears that Dougherty was just very paranoid. And that George Ketron paid the highest price due to Dougherty’s mental illness.

Ketron’s widow and their young son boarded a train bound for Kingston, Tennessee with his body. George Ketron is buried in Arcadia United Methodist Cemetery, Sullivan County, Tennessee.

In October of 1925, HH Dougherty was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to 17 years in Angola. And that’s where his trail ends. I could not find him again on any records. I believe that I located his wife (by then ex-wife) on the census living in Monroe, Louisiana. But then her trail goes cold as well. It’s possible that Dougherty himself died before the 1930 census or he became paroled and left the area.

I tried to track down the poor barber who witnessed the entire incident and could not find him either! I do see where JW Pierce’s wife died in Bastrop a few years later but apparently her grave is not marked nor documented.

But by far the most interesting thing my research turned up was the obituary of George Ketron which was run in the local paper in Tennessee. His obituary stated that he had died in a work accident instead of being murdered! Had his family been able to hide the fact that he was murdered from the entire community? It seems impossible to believe that but that is what it appears!

Kingsport Times, June 14, 1925.

From Monroe Newsstar, June 13, 1925.