[Granville-Hough] 28 June 2009 - Sullivan's Hollow Inquest

[Trustees for Granville W. Hough]

Answers to lye soap questions: The layer of wet shucks over each layer 
of ashes was to hold the liquid to a slow and uniform trickle. Remember, 
we used the same liquid over and over during the week of preparation. 
The shucks also prevented splashes into eyes. The shucks had no chemical 
function, just a mechanical one. In the absence of shucks, you could 
probably use burlap bags or even old clothes, but all I ever saw were 
shucks. We had plenty of them.

SULLIVAN’S HOLLOW INQUEST.

Frequent homocides in Sullivan’s Hollow caused most eligible adults to 
develop understanding of what the legal procedures were and how to go 
about them when something happened. Sooner or later, everyone would be 
called upon to serve in an investigation. I do not know what the 
procedures were called at that time in Mississippi, perhaps something 
like a coroner’s inquest.

The inquest I heard was in Spring, 1938, in the Concord Community, the 
quietest of all the Baptist communities in the area. Brother Lawrence 
McAlpin commited suicide early one Sunday morning. In our home, we had 
done the morning barnyard chores of milking the cows and watering the 
mules and had turned to taking baths and getting ready for Sunday 
school. We noticed several cars passing down our road, including that of 
Brother Jim Meadows. Someone stopped and told us that something had 
happened to Brother Lawrence McAlpin and that he was dead. My mother 
told me, “You run over there and see what has happened to Brother 
Lawrence,” She told my younger brothers to wait about Sunday School 
until I got back because Sister Kit (Mrs. Lawrence McAlpin) was their 
teacher. It was exactly one-half mile over to the McAlpin homes of 
Lawrence and his sons, Drummond, Clifton, and Newman. I was there in ten 
minutes. My entire time was spent on the front porch, but I was able to 
hear the inquest going on in the living room of the home. The witnesses 
were waiting in the dining room or the kitchen. I do not know whether 
the body was still there or not.

Brother Jim Meadows had apparently gone to Mize to the nearest telephone 
where he could call Raleigh and report the death. He had apparently been 
deputized to form an inquest and he had taken charge. Brother Jim was 
no-nonsense at best, and this day he was most serious and business-like. 
He needed one more man to complete the inquest and had sent for Mr. 
Billy Walker, who arrived shortly. He asked us to be quiet on the porch 
so they could hear the witnesses, who were Mrs. Kit, Farrell, Veatrice, 
and Etha. I actually never saw them, but I knew each of their voices. 
They all told the same story:

Farrell was late getting home after a night of carousing, and he had 
left his loaded pistol on the mantel over the fireplace in the parlour 
where he was sleeping. Mr. Lawrence woke him up and insisted he have 
breakfast so the women folks could get ready for Sunday School. Farrell 
had a terrible hangover and swore at his father in a most insulting way. 
However, he did get up and started eating his breakfast. Mr. Lawrence 
followed him into the dining room and was trying to shame him for his 
harsh words. Farrell then, in the presence of the womenfolks, called his 
father unmentionable names, which caused Mr. Lawrence to leave the 
dining room in tears. Then Mrs. Kit, Veatrice, and Etha all “got after” 
Farrell with vehemence for being so rude and crude and vulgar to his 
father – on the Sabbath day, of all things. Then they heard the shot. 
All rushed into the parlour room where Farrell had left the pistol. The 
distraught Brother Lawrence had found the pistol and had shot his brains 
out and lay dead or dying on the floor. They could all identify the 
pistol they saw, and Farrell could say it was his pistol he had left on 
the mantel when he went to bed. The inquest came to the unanimous 
conclusion the Lawrence M. McAlpin had taken his own life by pistol 
shot. I then had to leave to go back home to report to my mother and 
brothers.

There were people with grudges against Farrell who wanted him to be 
guilty of killing his father. But the character and veracity of the 
three women was such that the conclusion of the inquest was never 
doubted nor challenged. Brother Lawrence had taken his own life.
The events of that fateful Sunday morning were 71 years ago. It has ever 
been a model of how a community reacts to a terrible tragedy in its 
midst. First, the facts had to be established beyond a reasonable doubt. 
If there was guilt, it had to be determined. The innocent had to be 
protected. The Sullivan Hollow neighbors rose to the occasion and did 
what had to be done.

But there has remained in my mind three thoughts: One is that words have 
consequences. Second is the question: What does it take to drive a sick, 
dispairing and distraught father over the edge? Third is, loaded guns 
are exceedingly dangerous.

May the Lord be with us all and forgive Brother Lawrence!