Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 22: A Streetcar Named Death

How many of you know that Monroe City Transit system is the nation’s oldest publicly owned transportation system? It was founded in 1906 and was the second city in the nation to begin using streetcars as public transit! And as you may have imagined, it caused an issue or two.

In addition to dodging horses, new-fangled automobiles, trains and pedestrians…now the elderly of Monroe, Louisiana had to contend with the streetcars and their routes! Occasionally the two worlds collided with disastrous results.

Eighty year-old Mrs. ME Thompson was attempting to cross the tracks of the street car at the intersection of Second and Washington Street when she was struck by Streetcar # 20. Mrs. Thompson was really deaf and didn’t see too good either. Witnesses said she looked in the direction of the train depot but did not look back in the direction that the streetcar was approaching from. She also did not hear the warning gong from the streetcar. She was struck and fell away from the streetcar in such a manner that it did not pass over her legs.

The pitiful lady was immediately rushed to a nearby residence and doctors were brought in to examine her. Her wrist was broken and she had internal injuries as well as a nasty knot on her head. It was thought that her injuries were survivable…but that was not to be. Aged Mrs. Thompson was just too old and frail and passed away on the afternoon of May 4, 1911. She had lingered for around 3 days after the accident.

There was some dispute about whether the motormen’s attempts to help Mrs. Thompson had actually helped her, or hastened her demise. A motorman Pritchard spied the elderly woman and threw on the brakes, he ran to the front of the streetcar and essentially grabbed her to get her out of the way. While the local newspapers praised this action, the Thompson family felt that he had acted in haste and had tossed their beloved grandmother away from the streetcar which caused her to fall harder and have more injuries. I sort of doubt he did anything that made it any worse than getting solidly hit by the streetcar would have done.

A letter to the editor expresses the opinion of the granddaughters:

“We, as the granddaughters of Mrs. ME Thompson (deceased) wish to correct an error in the card of thanks in regard to the death of our dear grandmother who was killed by one of the city street cars. Of course we thank our friends and acquaintances for their kindness and sympathy during our sad hours, and also wish to express our thanks for the many beautiful flowers, but when it comes to thanking the city for something which we feel is a murderous outrage, we don’t join in with our relatives in doing any such thing.” Signed, Mrs. Charles H. Byrd, Mrs. Clara G. Brusch.

The city did not respond and that was as close to social media as they could get in those days! The last street car rolled down Lee Avenue in 1938, replaced with buses due to the need for more routes and extended routes.

So as I was looking for more articles about this incident, I came across another occurrence from 1898 Monroe with similar names. After studying the names and dates, I am convinced that these folks were not related…just a peculiar coincidence!

On February 7, 1898, John Pritchard did not turn up for dinner at his sister’s house. She didn’t worry too much as he had been feeling bad and she figured he may have decided to stay home. Later she sent one of her kids out to check on him, the kid reported back to him mom that his uncle’s house was locked up tight and nobody was answering the door. Later his sister who happened to be named Mrs. Thompson went to go see for herself…and found John Pritchard dead. By all appearances he had gotten in his bed clothes and laid down for the night. He had apparently taken a pretty large dose of morphine before bed but that wasn’t unusual for John Pritchard. You see, John had lost his leg in a railroad accident and had pretty severe chronic pain. But John had had a recent run of bad luck, including losing his boat when it sank. So the first coroner to arrive on the scene declared it an absolute case of suicide. However, John Pritchard’s doctor arrived a few minutes later. He took a look at the scene and stated that it was heart failure! John had been dealing with (what we now know) as congestive heart failure. The morphine was also used to control his chest pains. Whatever the cause, John Pritchard’s heart stopped beating that night.

Try as I might, I haven’t found any indication of where he ended up buried! He had only recently moved from Mississippi to be closer to his sister…I feel like it’s possible he was taken back there. Or perhaps he is in the same hallowed ground that Mrs ME Thompson is, without a marker. Either way, we can only hope that all the Pritchard’s and all the Thompsons of Monroe, Louisiana are resting peacefully.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 22: Wild Times on Sprague Street

This story starts in an unusual place as a strange set of circumstances and folks who did not really know each other crossed paths one tragic day.

We will start with the grave of Catherine Margaret Cates Allen who was married to Dr. Thomas Jefferson Allen, a well known surgeon in Shreveport, Louisiana in the late 1800’s. Catherine was said to be a kind and beloved person who spent a good deal of time caring for patients with her husband as well as being active in local social circles. She was known to help prepare the holiday meals for patients who had the misfortune of being hospitalized on Holidays. She had suffered for rheumatism for many years and on the evening of March 5, 1894 (after being ill for only one hour) she died. She was 61. But it is not Catherine who is the star of her show, rather it was her funeral!

Grave of Catherine Allen. Notice how the monument has been shifted over.

The Allen’s Infirmary, likely where Catherine passed away. This picture was taken in 1894.

On the following evening, the funeral carriage and the mourners were approaching the Oakland Cemetery on Sprague Street in Shreveport when they would witness a fiasco!

In the meantime, carpenter Joe Ruben was finishing working on a house for his mother-in-law, Mrs. Watts. Around this time Joe and his mother-in-law got into a terrible argument which ended with him stabbing her in the face with a pocket knife. Mrs. Watts survived the attack. This was witnessed by her youngest son who ran screaming from the house and found Police Officer Charles Wilson. The traumatized boy told him what had happened and then pointed to Joe Ruben as he bolted from the house. Wilson began to chase him on foot.

This was witnessed by several people on the busy street that day, include a shoe shine man who said that he heard Joe yell to Officer Wilson, “if you follow me, I will kill you!” Wilson continue to pursue him and when Joe refused to stop, Wilson fired at least one round at him. Joe ran into the cemetery where the sexton, JW White was waiting for the procession of Mrs. Allen. White looks up to see the procession is approaching the cemetery on Sprague Street. Joe runs from the cemetery and across Sprague into his own home. Finding the door locked, he breaks it down. Wilson approached the house in front of the shocked funeral party.

Joe Ruben retrieves a gun from the inside of his house and stuck just his arm and hand out the door with the gun. He fires off several rounds in the direction of Officer Wilson. Wilson is struck. Wilson calls out, “oh Captain, please help me!” Somehow, he is still standing.

Police Chief Nelson (first name unknown) is attending the funeral of Mrs. Allen and he is on horseback. Seeing an officer in distress, he responds by spurring his horse away from the funeral. Nelson jumps from his horse and half-carries/half-walks Wilson across the street and lets him rest on the board walk. Chief Nelson returns fire on Joe Ruben when he started towards him, grazing his shoulder and hitting the fleshy part of his thigh. Officer Wilson dies a few minutes later. By this time, Officer William Dewing has arrived and he is going after Ruben.

Ruben had holed up in his house trying to reload. Dewing tells him to come out but Ruben says, “wait a minute!” Officer Dewing shouts to Ruben: “if I come in there, I’m gonna kill you!” Ruben then surrenders.

Keep in mind, all of this happens to be in full view of the astonished mourners of Mrs. Catherine Allen!

Officer Wilson’s body is loaded in wagon and is carried to his home a couple of blocks over. In those days, Wilson lived on Wilson Street. Looking at the current map, Wilson street is no longer named such, but Sprague Street bisects the cemetery. Officer Charles Wilson was buried in the very same cemetery the following day.

I tried to figure out what became of old Joe Ruben. I believe that he was probably convicted and sent down to Angola but I didn’t find any trial reports. I also didn’t find any reports of him having been lynched either. Considering the killing of Officer Wilson happened in front of a LOT of witnesses, I kind of doubt he would have had any decent defense other than a plea of insanity.

And that is the story of how Mrs. Catherine Allen’s funeral was interrupted.

Sadly, at some point, the Allen family plot was vandalized and the stones were toppled. There are a few that remain upright including Catherine’s.

An undated and not particularly good photo of William Dewing, he is buried in Oakland Cemetery as well but is unmarked. He is the officer who captured Joe Ruben on March 6, 1894.

During the research for this article, I stumbled across another story regarding the brother of William Dewing whose name was Charles Dewing. Charles was the hangman of Caddo Parish. And Charles LOVED his job. He was a lawman through and through. But he was especially passionate about hanging the condemned!

Charles Dewing himself had escaped the hangman’s noose having been tried for murder twice. He was once pardoned and once acquitted and then became a lawman in his own right. And he was a brutal one. He bragged that he did not know the number of men he had killed.

Dewing had been shot, stabbed, burned and had been beaten senseless more than a few times in his career in law enforcement but he kept on going. He rather enjoyed the executioner position and despite his reputation for brutality, seemed to treat the condemned with kindness, telling them: “I’ll be with you all the way through until the end.” Indeed he would always take care not to choke the men he hanged while adjusting the noose.

He served as the Chief of Police and also was commended for his hard work in helping bury the dead in the mass graves during the yellow fever epidemic of 1873 (there is a burial mound in Oakland Cemetery where 800 victims of the yellow fever are buried). Dewing somehow managed not to become a victim of the fever himself.

By 1908, Charles Dewing was becoming feeble despite being only around 62 years of age, I can only believe all the years of hard living had caught up to him. He lived in a small home on Sprague Street with a black woman named Alice who was his caretaker. Alice was probably the only person around who wasn’t scared of him for some reason. Dewing had a peculiar collection of mementoes from his time as a hangman: the hoods of many of the men he had hanged and several of the nooses that he had saved. Dewing had a habit of caressing these items and smiling fondly.

Charles Dewing died on March 16, 1908. He left Alice $500 and the rest of his estate went to his living sister. He is said to be buried at Forest Park Cemetery, but he is apparently not marked. I did not have time to put in the research at this time in our season to write a full article about him but I promise to do so at the end of this year’s series! For now here’s a picture of the Caddo Parish Hangman:

Charles Dewing, he said that it was a pleasure to hang a man that he knew was guilty!

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 21: Claiborne Pratt

A few days ago we heard the story of a father who murdered a man who seduced his daughter. If you thought that was an isolated incident in the old days, you would be sadly mistaken. However, the jury didn’t always see the father’s side of the situation!

Charles Candler of Gibsland had a large family and a farm that he had to keep running. I don’t have any indication that they gave him much trouble. At least not until his 25 year-old unmarried daughter came up pregnant! She confided in another sibling who at once told their father. Candler confronted his daughter and she told him that she had been intimate with a fellow named Claiborne Pratt who lived nearby.

Pratt was also unmarried and around 31 years-old. Records also do not indicate if Candler gave Pratt a chance to marry the young woman and make the situation right. Instead it appears that Candler stewed about the situation for a couple of days. He was so angry about it that he could not sleep!

After two days of sleep deprivation and rumination, Charles Candler loaded a double barrel shotgun and hunted Claiborne Pratt down. After he had shot the unarmed Pratt, Candler went into the town of Arcadia, Louisiana and found the sheriff, surrendered the murdered weapon and confessed to the killing. He was locked up in the city jail at Arcadia and he took himself a long nap.

Claiborne Pratt is buried at Brice Cemetery in Bienville Parish, Louisiana. His epitaph reads: Though lost to sight, to memory dear.

By the time the trial rolled around in March of 1901, Candler had changed his plea to “not guilty” using the excuse that he was extremely angry about the impregnation of his unmarried daughter. Bienville Parish found it difficult to find fair and impartial jurors but the judge was eventually satisfied that they did and the sensational trial went forward with loads of spectators. After several days, Charles Candler was found guilty of manslaughter and the jury recommend “extreme” mercy of the court.

In this case, something I have only ever seen in this one time: Charles Candler was sentenced to ONE day in Angola State Penitentiary and steps were taken to secure his pardon before he carried out his sentence. He did indeed go to Angola for one day and was pardoned the next and allowed to return home.

But what happened to the daughter…and the baby? I did a lot of scouring of records and the Candlers had so many children that I cannot be certain but I believe that it was his daughter Maggie who became pregnant by Claiborne Pratt. She was the daughter who was aged 25 at this time, although she had a sister who was 26. The older sister was already married and had, in fact, had a baby earlier that year so it would not likely be her.

And the baby? Well I could not find a record of the birth. So she may have miscarried. But I did notice a baby (I’m not going to name here because it is not important to this story) who seemed to be born of older parents in the family…a baby that would have been born about the time Maggie would have been due. So I believe that she did carry the baby and the child was adopted into her family. Sadly, Maggie would die just a few short years later in 1917, never having married nor having any other children. She is buried at Mount Moriah Methodist Church Cemetery in Arcadia, Louisiana but her stone has gone missing since a survey that was done in the 1980’s.

Charles Candler is buried at Gibsland Cemetery in Gibsland, Louisiana. According to an anecdote that I read which was written by his great-great granddaughter, Charles was not supposed to be buried at Gibsland. Both of his wives are buried at the Arcadia Cemetery, but it rained really bad the day of his funeral and the wagon broke down so they all just gave up and buried him at the closest cemetery they could get to which was Gibsland. And there he rests to this day!

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night #20: The Death of Herman Petzold

I’ve said it many times but it bears repeating that one of the most interesting cemeteries in North Louisiana is the Old City Cemetery of Monroe, Louisiana. It occupies a mere block or so but is absolutely literally packed full of Monroe history! So many of the monuments date from the mid 1800’s and are legible. One of those prominent graves is that of Herman Petzold.

Herman’s tale is not one of murderous treachery or a tale of revenge and bullets flying. In fact, Herman was one of the most beloved characters of early Monroe, Louisiana. He was a German baker. He came from Germany in his youth with his parents and settled first in Wisconsin, later moving to Monroe and opening his own bakery! He was said to be the best cake maker around. His bakery was very popular and his cakes and breads well sought after.

He married a German girl named Anna Brueckner who also had family in the area. Her sister was married into the prominent Fudickar family. They had a couple of children: a son Herman, Jr. and the following year a daughter named Mary. Sadly, Anna would outlive all three of them.

The Petzold’s lived near the Ouachita River and Herman set out about some task on the night of March 1, 1880. During this process, he lost his footing and fell into the river. Another day or so would go by with the townsfolk desperately searching for the missing man only to find his body floating in the river behind the store of Sidney Saunders.

Herman Petzold, Sr. was buried in the Old City Cemetery in Monroe, Louisiana near his daughter who had died at the age of 1 in 1878. Later, Herman, Jr would grow up and move to Houston to become a successful man in his own right but would die of illness at the tender age of 22 in 1899. He is buried in the German Cemetery in Houston, Texas with his tombstone proudly proclaiming that he was born in Monroe, Louisiana.

The grave of Herman, Jr. which is in Washington Cemetery in Houston, Texas. At the time of his burial, this part was known as the German Cemetery.

The grave of little Mary Petzold who died at the age of one, Old City Cemetery, Monroe, Louisiana.

Anna Petzold decided to stay in Houston for the next few years but also became ill. By 1910, she was tired and wanted to return home to Monroe which she did. She was only there a few months before she passed away from illness at the age of 61, the last of the little Petzold family. She is buried next to her husband in Monroe.

The grave of Herman Petzold, the German Baker of Monroe.

An ad from the Ouachita Telegraph.

From the Telegraph Bulletin, Monroe, Louisiana, March 10, 1880.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 19: Lunatic

In 1949, Andrew Kiger was a pitiful fellow living in the Jackson State Hospital for the Criminally Insane in Louisiana. He had committed several crimes though none were particularly violent. But he seemed to behave strangely enough that it was felt that he was insane and had been sent there. Andrew may indeed have been insane but yet he was a clever fellow. By December of that year he had managed to escape the state hospital and was living quietly among the residents of Rapides Parish doing odd jobs and keeping to himself. What happened next was completely out of character for him and leaves long lasting questions that we will not have good answers for!

In late December 1949, Miss Georgie Calhoun hired Andrew to do some handy man jobs around her boarding house. She was 78 years old, had never married and had no children. She was a beloved retired school teacher. On the morning on December 30, 1949, she was found hacked to death with a hatchet buried in her skull. She was in the bathtub of her home. And Andrew Kiger was missing.

Crime Scene Photo of Miss Georgie’s bedroom which has been ransacked.

Within a few weeks, Andrew was picked up in Bunkie, Louisiana after telling a few people that he knew something about the murder. Upon closer questioning, the police realized that all was not right with Andrew and he was soon shipped back to the Jackson Hospital but under tighter security. The police began to question him but he held firm to having walked in to find Miss Georgie stumbling around the house, bleeding profusely with the hatchet buried in her skull. Not knowing what else to do, he said that he had taken her to the bathtub to try to wash some of the blood off and she had collapsed there. He then left the area and later burned any of his clothes that had any blood on them…all of these things sound pretty damning. But his story never changed, that is until the doctors at the state hospital decided to question him using some “alternative” methods.

In a practice which has become banned in modern times, the doctors administered “truth serum” to Andrew Kiger. Now we don’t know exactly which drug these doctors were using for truth serum because there are several drugs that were being tested for such things in the 1940’s and 1950’s but likely it was a heavy dose of barbiturates. This practice has become outlawed because patients become very suggestible and may fabricate stories which have been fed to them. Under the influence of the drugs at the facility, Andrew Kiger confessed to the killing of Miss Georgie Calhoun.

Another crime scene photo, remember the above confession was obtained while Kiger was under the influence of heavy sedatives!!

He was sentenced to spend the rest of his life in Jackson State Hospital in East Feliciana Parish. I believe him to be buried in Thibodeaux, Louisiana. If what I have gathered is true, then I believe that he may have been able to be at home with family or in a nearby facility once he became older. But overall, I am not convinced that he was the killer. I’m not saying he wasn’t, but I am saying that his confession was obtained under dubious practices.

Georgia Elvira Calhoun is buried in Glenmora Cemetery in Rapides Parish, Louisiana. Buried with her is the truth about what happened that day. May they all rest in peace.

Graveyard Stories 2023: Night # 18: The Broken Heart of Ruby Brown

In 1924, Ruby Brown was a typical teenage girl, full of dreams of the future and harboring a crush on a young man. She attended Calhoun High School in Calhoun, Louisiana. She was a good student and came from a happy home. So her fate surprised and saddened everyone in the town.

Ruby had gone to a party one Tuesday night with several friends hoping to see the young man that she was in love with. And she arrived to see him…with another girl! Of course Ruby was heartbroken. Perhaps known to be a little dramatic given that her friends did not take her rants seriously! Ruby declared that she would drown herself in a nearby creek and that her clothes would be found at the base of the old Magnolia tree.

She did attend school that Wednesday, April 30, 1924. At some point, she slipped away from school. And she did just what she had threatened to do: she pulled her clothes off and walked into the creek.

Hours later, when Ruby did not return home, her parents became alarmed. They set out to her friends homes and asked where she could be found! It was only then that the girls remembered and seriously considered Ruby’s threats to hurt herself. They quickly rushed to the old Magnolia tree and found her school books “tossed carelessly aside” and her clothing placed under the tree exactly as she said it would be. When the horrified family and friends peered into the waters they could just discern the shape of the nude girl under the surface of the water. Ruby Brown was dead.

Ruby Brown was buried in Calhoun City Cemetery in Calhoun, Louisiana on May 1, 1924. The newspapers noted that classmates were her pallbearers. I wondered if one of them was the boy she was so in love with? Somehow I think Ruby would have liked that.

Ruby’s mother would later give birth to a son that same year in October. Billy Jack Brown would grow up to be plagued with depression due to some health problems that he had. In a turn of irony, on December 2, 1950, Billy Jack Brown jumped into the family well and drowned himself. His last words were to his 8 year-old nephew as he stomped towards the well: “I’m gonna end it all!” The nephew watched in shock as his uncle jumped.

Billy Jack’s mother reported that he had threatened to drown himself on several occasions. On the morning of his death, his illness had made him feel too sick to eat. He pushed his plate back towards his mother after eating only a couple of bites. He then stood up and stormed out of the house.

Billy Jack Brown ended his own life in the same manner as his oldest sister who died while their mother was pregnant with him! Sometimes truth is just stranger than fiction. He is buried at Calhoun City Cemetery as well.

Graveyard stories 2023, Night #17: Frontier Justice and Collateral Damage

For this story we will begin at the end and then attempt to explain how everyone arrived at their fate!

On the morning of April 28, 1884, citizens of Monroe, Louisiana awoke to carry on about their day only to be disturbed by a ghastly sight across from the sheriff’s office. Three men were hanging from the trees there. Three men who were facing the hangman’s noose legally already…but it seemed that someone has hastened their death. These men were named John Scott “Jack” Mullican, John “Al” Clarke, and King Hill. For the record, King Hill was not involved in the same crime that Mullican and Clarke were convicted of.

On March 20, 1884, The Ouachita Citizen Newspaper broke the story of the tragic murders of husband and wife, John Cloud Rogers and Elizabeth Allen Thorpe Rogers who had been shot to death in their own home near Cadeville, Louisiana on Thursday March 6, 1884. They lived on their own farm and in an isolated area, their nearest neighbor being their married daughter, Mrs. Marietta Landrum.

On Saturday, March 8, 1884. Marietta had gone to her parents home to spend the day with them and found them dead. Police released to the public that they felt that the Rogers’ knew their killers and had probably let them in as the table was set for guests. Mr. Rogers had been shot in the head and possibly bludgeoned. Mrs. Rogers had likely turned to look at the killer as soon as she heard the gunshot that killed her husband and was shot in the face, the poor lady had a large powder burn indicating that she had been shot at very close range. The house had been ransacked but the killers missed a cash belt which had $2000 dollars hidden! Another neighbor a few miles away had seen Mullican and Clarke approaching that night with a couple of mules (mules that would turn out to have been stolen out of Lincoln Parish). The neighbor recognized Mullican because he had worked for Mr. Rogers before. He had also heard horses ride past his house later that night in a full gallop.

Mullican and Clarke, while devious, were not especially smart criminals. They immediately headed for Texas and were captured by March 26, 1884. Mullican was captured and arrested by JC Rogers’ own son, Jack Rogers. The boys was brought back to Ouachita Parish for trial.

During the brief time period before the trial began, Mullican was interviewed by a local newspaper reporter. He confirmed pretty much the exact scenario that the police had envisioned: Mr. and Mrs. Rogers were sitting by the fire in their kitchen entertaining the men, discussing any work they might have for them (that’s how they got into the house that night, asking Mr. Rogers for work). Mullican, of course, said that he had done none of the shooting. He also denied being involved in the theft of the mules from Lincoln Parish. He blamed Clarke for all of the killing and the theft. He also said that Mr. Rogers was not completely dead after the shot. Clarke had exclaimed, “the damned old devil has nearly made it to the door!” Mullican said that Clarke then took the dull side of an axe and finished Mr. Rogers off. It was a terrible scene. When the interviewer asked Mullican if he was a “crack” shot with a gun like the rumors said, Mullican said that no, he was a tolerable shot but that was all.

Despite all of his denials and them blaming each other. Jack Mullican and Al Clarke were quickly convicted of the brutal killing and sentenced to hang. They waited and knew that a mob would likely be coming…

But how does King Hill factor in to this?

King Hill had been convicted of the 1883 murder of Nicholas Milling, an extremely young 17 year-old plantation manager. Not as much has been recorded of the incident but it appears that an argument had arisen that day as Nicholas was trying to move one group of family from one plantation to another. There was no mention as to why the family was moving but it wasn’t unusual for this to happen if an employee of one plantation married an employee from another plantation, though it could cause some bad feelings! The death of Nicholas Milling did not occur in front of witnesses that day but King Hill did tell several folks that he did it. He was arrested and convicted…however, by the time Mullican and Clarke were incarcerated, King Hill’s conviction had been overturned! He was about to get a new trial and it was thought that he would avoid being hanged.

King Hill knew this was a bad thing to be in jail with these guys! He had asked to be moved to another jail for his safety and his motion was denied. It was just purely his bad luck that he was there the night the lynch mob came for Clarke and Mullican…and they figured: why not? No need to leave witnesses behind. So he got strung up, too. And never got another trial.

And I could not tell you where Mullican, Clarke and Hill are buried. Mullican had been planning to move near Longstraw before he began his brief unsuccessful criminal career. I hope his widow was okay after that terrible incident, I’m certain it was a terrible burden for her to bear.

But I can tell you where the Rogers are buried…but you can’t go there. Because it’s on private property! Luckily, I was able to find some really good pictures of the graves, the small family cemetery is (from what I am told) someone’s back yard now. I wonder if they know the story as to how the Rogers’ ended up in their graves!?

Rogers Cemetery, Ouachita Parish, Louisiana

Nicholas Milling is buried in his family plot in Mount Zion Cemetery in Calhoun, Louisiana.

Graveyard Stories, Night #14: Unlucky

Charlie Anderson had grown to the age of 22 purely out of spite it seemed. He had had so many run ins with bad luck throughout his life that everyone just scratched their head in amazement when he survived each and every one. And honestly, maybe he just wasn’t very cautious. But you can only cheat the reaper for so long before he claims what is his.

On December 6, 1912, Charlie was employed by the locks and dam system on the Ouachita River in Monroe, Louisiana. On this morning, Charlie was in a boat in the river which overturned and he was taken under the current and did not resurface. His family came from Ruston and stayed for days while the authorities searched in vain for his body. From what I can tell, I do not believe that Charlie was ever recovered. His parents placed a monument in Greenwood Cemetery in Ruston. I am surprised that they were able to believe that Charlie was actually dead given everything he had survived in his brief life!

Charlie had been severely food poisoned once by eating tainted food which had been improperly preserved! That he survived food poisoning in that time period was a miracle in itself. He was ill for several weeks but made a full recovery.

Later, Charlie was poisoned again when he accidentally swallowed actual poison mistaking it for medicine! He became deathly ill once again and the doctors warned them that this would be the end for sure…but he surprised them all and recovered completely again.

Then Charlie got struck by lightening. In fact he got struck in front of witnesses and was unconscious for several hours. The doctors said: this time for sure, no way is Charlie gonna pull through. But he did!

But poor old Charlie met his match with the Ouachita River. He was pulled under those unforgiving waters never to be seen again.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night # 15: Hot Tempered

On July 24, 1935, a flat tire would cause a group of strangers to encounter one another and lead to a murder just west of West Monroe, Louisiana. In the end, nobody would have a good explanation for why the fight began or why it ended the way it did that evening!

Lloyd Bonnett (sometimes spelled Loyd) and his friend Wess Jackson were employees of the Brown Paper Mill in West Monroe. They were off work that evening and driving around to get something to eat and then to head home. Near the Webb’s sandwich shop and saloon (which was on Highway 80) between West Monroe and Calhoun, Bonnett’s vehicle got a flat tire and he had to pull off the highway. He found himself without a pump to reinflate the tire.

Virgil Garlock, Wade and JA McKissick and one of the McKissick wives were nearby and pulled over to check on the disabled vehicle. When asked if he had an air pump, apparently Garlock said he did but refused to retrieve it because he would have to make the folks in the back seat get up to get to it…and that’s how the fight started. The fight ended with Bonnett having a bullet in his belly and Wess Jackson getting a large cut to his scalp. The bullet was fired by Virgil Garlock.

Lloyd Bonnett would die within a few hours at the Saint Francis Sanitarium in Monroe, Louisiana. He is buried at Pleasant Grove Cemetery in Choudrant, Louisiana. Wess Jackson’s injuries were not severe.

But what of the other fellows? Well it appears that the McKissicks and Virgil Garlock were arrested but eventually released. I could not find any record of them being convicted of the crime.

Having done a census check of Virgil to see if he ended up in Angola, I noted that he outlived two wives and somehow ended up living out his final years in Sacramento, California. His ashes are entombed in columbarium there.

There was at some point a portrait of Loyd set in his headstone but time, age and water damage have done a number on it. It is impossible to make out any features at this time. He is buried between his parents.

The niche for Garlock’s ashes in Sacramento, California. He is entombed at East Lawn Memorial Park.

Graveyard Stories 2023, Night #16: The Ballad of Shorty

February 28, 1917 started out pretty quietly in Collinston, Louisiana. But little did the townsfolk know that tragedy was literally spying on their peaceful little town, waiting for the perfect time to pounce.

Around noon, two men walked into the Bank of Collinston with guns and demanded the money. They knew this would be the best time as they had planned this exact moment to enter, knowing that only one person would be in the bank, cashier JC Carter. Carter was ordered at gun point to kneel in the corner while the men filled up their sacks and literally took everything they could…right down to a sack of nickels. Everything was going smoothly and according to plan. But that would soon be foiled by an ornery mule!

The robbers ran from the bank to the school house next door where there were several horses and mules tied up (remember this is 1917, kids did ride horses to school then). They both procured a critter to ride. Lee Blount was riding a ridiculously slow horse and Shorty Defts had chosen possibly the meanest mule that ever lived. By this time, the cashier had sounded the alarm and the Mayor of Collinston, 30 year-old William Vaughan jumped on his horse (which was an able-bodied steed) and started chasing the robbers!

Well Shorty didn’t make it far before the mule threw him. He pretty much dropped any loot he had and ran for it. He would be captured within minutes of the robbery. Honestly, Shorty was the least of everyone’s troubles. He was an idiot through and through. After all, who chooses a mule for a quick get away? Endurance yes, speed no.

Lee Blount was a different kind of creature. He was a cold blooded killer. He left his friend behind to be captured. He had no remorse for anything he had done ever. And he never would.

William Vaughan probably had no idea what kind of evil man he was dealing with when he started chasing Lee Blount that day. Vaughan got off at least one shot that wounded Blount but then his gun jammed. Vaughan dismounted and went into thick brush to try to clear his weapon. Lee Blount used this opportunity to ride up on him and shoot him in the heart. William Vaughan’s horse fled. Lee Blount needed that horse if he was going to survive. He trailed the horse which arrived at the Vaughan farm within minutes.

Mrs. Vaughan was at the farm that day and so was the African American man who worked for her and William Vaughan. When her husband’s horse turned up riderless and covered in blood, they knew something bad had happened. Lee Blount rode into view shortly afterward. He never told them he had killed William Vaughan, but he demanded the horse. Afterward, he rode north from Collinston. I believe had they offered any resistance, he would have killed them as well.

Lee Blount was hit, in the face. He was getting weaker. He found a church and holed up there for the next few hours while the posse was closing in him. In the meantime, Shorty Defts was having to be taken to Bastrop jail to avoid the lynch mob that had formed in Collinston. They were out for blood and Shorty’s would do.

A man who took care of the church came by and unexpectedly found Blount there. Sick and desperate, Blount offered him $100 dollars to bring him a doctor. The man took the money…and then he turned him in to the posse.

The posse closed in on the church, they surrounded it and opened fire. After a few minutes, Lee Blount stumbled to the door waving a white cloth. He was hit several times during the firing. The worst shot was to his gut. Now he was really in trouble.

Lee Blount was getting close to death. The authorities had to make a decision. They felt that he was too sick to be treated at Monroe and needed surgery, not to mention the violent mob who was willing to ride to Monroe just to kill him! They figured it was best to take him to Shreveport, but which was was the fastest? They elected to carry him by car…this would prove to be bad decision. Roads not being in great condition back then and recent rainfall had made them slick. The car became disabled and they had to spend the night in the Ouachita woods. By the time Lee Blount arrived in Shreveport, he was beyond saving.

The police and the nurses took pity on a dying Lee Blount. Realizing his time was drawing to an end, he told the tale of how he came to be in Collinston that day: he had been serving time in the Arkansas State Penitentiary for having killed a law officer who was serving a warrant on him. Shorty Defts was also serving a 20 year sentence for robbery and assault with intent to kill. Lee had had enough good behavior to earn him a place as a trusty. When the time was right, he had held up a riding boss and stolen his horse (probably killed him but he may have left that out of the story). He and Shorty headed south for a couple weeks until they hatched a plan for the ill-fated robbery in Collinston. After confessing all of his sins, Lee Blount died of sepsis in Shreveport, Louisiana on March 3, 1917.

When informed of Lee’s death, his wife asked how much money he had on him and that it be sent to her and his son in Mayflower, Arkansas. And since the people of Lousiana were nice enough to pay for it, Lee’s body was shipped back up there for burial, because she said she wasn’t paying for it! But I really can’t blame her, Lee Blount had been more trouble than he was worth to that poor woman. I could not locate his grave but I did find a couple of Blount children who died in a drowning incident buried in the Mayflower Cemetery in Mayflower, Arkansas which would have been about the right age to be Lee’s niece and nephew, so we know the Blount family was in the area like the newspapers say they were.

In a TEN minute trial on March 26, 1917, Shorty Defts plead guilty to bank robbery and was sentenced to 13 years in Angola State Penitentiary. I don’t know if he ever made it out. Shorty Defts had a lot of aliases and, to be completely honest, it’s hard to be certain that Defts was his real last name.

William Henry Vaughan is buried at Christ Church Cemetery in Bastrop, Louisiana. He died a hero that day. And it is likely due to his efforts that Lee Blount was apprehended, his shot weakening him enough to make him seek treatment.