[Granville-Hough] 11 May 2009 - Lynching
Trustees for Granville W. Hough
gwhough-trust at oakapple.net
Thu May 11 05:46:35 PDT 2017
Date: Mon, 11 May 2009 07:24:43 -0700
From: Granville W Hough <gwhough at oakapple.net>
Subject: Lynching - 11 May 2009
Four years ago, I recorded some family history that may not be pleasant
to read....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lynching.
This is a hard, hard story to write because it deals with Grandpa Jim
RichardsonÆs experiences when the last lynching of a black man took
place in Smith County. It is an explanation of why Grandpa Jim never
took part in public events and never went to Raleigh when he could send
someone else. It involves an experience so painful to him that he broke
down and cried when he told it to me. I do not know how many times he
told the story, but IÆm sure not many. He was not one to cry.
A known, hard-working, and honorable young black man had been accused of
raping a white girl he had known all his life. The families were
well-known as old residents. They had gotten along for generations.
There were no explanations, and the young man was in the county jail at
Raleigh. Feeling in such cases ran high, and lynchings in similar
situations were commonplace all across the South. The popular sentiment
in Smith County was that the modern thing to do was to lynch the young
man without a trial. That would keep the niggers in their place and let
them know once more who was boss.
Brother Dan Moulder and other ministers thought differently. They argued
from the pulpit and privately that the young man should be heard and
tried, just the same as a white man would be under similar
circumstances. The accused might indeed be hanged if a judge and jury
agreed, but he would have had benefit of trial and counsel. Brother Dan
Moulder got together all the Baptist deacons from his churches (and
other ministers did the same with their elders and supporters) and went
to Raleigh to support the Sheriff if he needed help. They had heard
rumors of the planned lynching on a specific day.
At first the nervous Sheriff accepted their help and they gathered on
the street to the jail. At the planned time, a huge, drunken and armed
mob arrived in Raleigh and moved toward the jail. The ministers and
deacons gave their pleas for justice through law. The mob jeered them
down, and pointed their guns at them. The Sheriff looked at the mob of
armed and angry white men and recognized them as his supporters. He had
an immediate change of heart. His excuse, as given later, was that, as
Sheriff, he would have to hang the man; so why not let the mob do it for
him? He would also not be responsible for one deputy being hurt in
protecting a nigger who would be hung anyway. He gave the jail keys to
the mob leaders.
The mob had the nigger, but it also came to the mob leaders that they
had this passel of nigger-loving preachers and deacons. LetÆs teach them
a lesson, too. So they dragged the victim and herded the preachers and
deacons to the tree or whatever was used for the hanging. They then
called for the accused to admit his guilt, which he did. According to
Grandpa Jim, the young black made a remarkable statement. Yes, he was
guilty. Yes, he knew he would be hanged. Yes, he had known the young
woman and had grown up with her as a neighbor from childhood. Yes, he
had always loved her and no one else. Yes, he knew under Mississippi law
they could not marry or have any sexual relationship. But, he saw her
this one day and was overcome with lust. Yes, he did the deed, and he
apologized to her, to her family, and to his own family. Yes, he was
ready to die. Then he was hung, and the hemmed in ministers and deacons
could only watch as he kicked and choked to his death. That was the end
of the story as told by Grandpa Jim. (The confession reminds one of
reports from long-ago victims of Hollywood, CA, date rapes by one young
actor named Ronald Reagan.)
I asked no questions. It was too embarrassing. I do not remember how the
discussion arose. I do not know the year of the lynching, the SheriffÆs
name, or the names of the mob leaders, if they were mentioned. I do not
know whether my father, Lisha Hough, also a deacon, was present. Brother
Dan Moulder never mentioned the subject from the pulpit that I heard. I
never heard anyone else give an eyewitness account. But it is a recorded
fact that the lynching took place, and I have seen the year, though I do
not recall it. 1915 sort of comes to mind, but it could be far off.
The effect on Grandpa Jim was that he withdrew from all public affairs.
He took part in no political campaigns. He served on no juries. He
offered no public prayers in church. He avoided Raleigh and other Smith
County towns where he might encounter members of the mob. He did all his
business in Magee, Simpson County, and by some freak arrangement, not
his own, got his mail from Mount Olive, in Covington County. He said
nothing whatsoever about it in daily affairs, but he must have been
profoundly affected by what the young black man had said as he faced
death. He could not see what could be done to achieve justice for black
people. He did make two somewhat cryptic observations: (one about a
trouble-maker member of our church who was making a fuss about the black
community) ôIt seems like a white man who is discredited in the white
community then tries to run the black community,ö and ôMaybe the best
thing a white man can do for the black community is to stay out of it.ö
I did not observe, but I am aware of one situation where Grandpa Jim
acted on his convictions. A black man named Otis Berry had applied in
Magee to Grandpa to sharecrop some of his land and, for some reason,
Grandpa agreed. Otis was from a black community called Skiffer Ridge,
near the Simpson and Jeff Davis County line, not far from where Thomas
Sullivan and his sons had lived in the 1820 decade. Otis had asked if
there were black schools, and Grandpa told him yes, he had heard there
was a school about a mile away. Otis moved into the tenant house and
proved to be an effective, hard worker. Then when school time came, he
could find no school. Grandpa was alarmed, and went to see the man who
had maintained the school. This was ôold manö Hinds Womack, who had
several negro tenants. When he got to the Womack place, he was told by
white employees that ôold manö Hinds had changed his mind and did not
want niggers to have any learning. Grandpa just asked one question:
ôWhere is Old Hinds?ö
No one knows what transpired when Grandpa Jim found Old Hinds. Hinds
Womack, like Grandpa Jim, had no education and had to learn to read and
write on his own. Each knew what it must have been like for the black
families. When Grandpa came home, old Hinds had agreed that one of his
extra houses would be the schoolhouse, and that he would pay his share
of the teacherÆs salary. So it was that Otis BerryÆs children went to
school while they share-cropped for Grandpa. They proved to be bright
and diligent students. (note: this incident took place after we joined
Grandpa, so we saw Grandpa Jim drive away to see Old Hinds. He had long
since ceased to drive, could barely see, had no driving license, and
could hardly get in and out of a car. We were very anxious till we saw
him coming back. This was the last time I ever saw him drive a car.)
Back to the basic subject: What do you know about lynchings of black
people in the South? Specifically in Smith County? Why did not white
people stop them? How did white people feel about them? I learned a
little about those questions at age 16 from Grandpa Jim Richardson.
More information about the Granville-Hough
mailing list