This time of the year has long been a source of celebration throughout the United States. Halloween was once considered more of a harvest celebration more than anything evil. And to be honest, this time of the year is less likely to lend itself to murder. It seems that more murders occur during the summer months when tempers run short due to the heat. But even in the peaceful months of fall, when most people are looking forward to hearty meals and reflection on the previous year, murder will still raise its ugly head.

On November 17, 1908, Ben Brakefield was annoyed by his landlord in Calhoun, Louisiana. He had been stewing for the last few days because John Lowery (who owned the property) had complained that Ben had cut a large tree down. At this point over a century later, nobody is real sure why Ben cut the tree down but it irritated John pretty bad. And John was known to have a temper.

That afternoon, Lowery’s daughter was playing in front of Ben Brakefield’s cabin. Ben told her to run down to her house and fetch her daddy. The girl obeyed and soon John Lowery came over the hill. Brakefield’s own father Dan Brakefield was there as well. Ben and John began to argue again about the tree. Ben grabbed a double barrel shotgun and John tried to make a run for it but was cut down by blasts from both barrels. Then Dan Brakefield handed his son another loaded shotgun and Ben shot the top of John Lowery’s head off: or at least that is the first version that everyone heard!

The second version and the one that appears closer to the truth is that Lowery was demanding that Ben Brakefield pay $5 for the tree immediately. When Brakefield refused, Lowery cursed him and threatened to kill him…he started towards Ben but turned to run away when Ben armed himself and fired at him. Ben Brakefield finished Lowery off. Dan Brakefield was an accessory to the murder but did not participate.

What we know about John Lowery is that he had a temper and had been in some violent scrapes before. He had gone so far as to challenge Walter Barrett from Choudrant to a duel on the train depot platform at Calhoun a couple years before and Lowery was shot in the ear. Barrett was not injured and the bullet from Lowery’s gun injured a bystander. Nobody died as a result of the duel.

Ben Brakefield had everything to lose for the rash killing. He had seven small children! He was confined to jail and his first trial for manslaughter ended in mistrial in April 1909. His second trial resulted in an acquittal by his actions being ruled self-defense. His overjoyed wife and children were there to welcome him home when he was released.

In a field of stone in Webster Cemetery, the dead rest quietly, waiting for someone like me to tell their stories. Many are marked prominently with enormous elaborate monuments proclaiming their importance in life or perhaps the grief of their families who are left behind. But many a good person and a good story is left in an unmarked grave. And sometimes the marker is odd enough to catch your attention but doesn’t tell you enough about the tragedy beneath the earth.

One small statue of Jesus holding a child, piques the interest of the curious observer. Upon closer inspection, a plaque in noted that is inscribed: Reeves, John N., Maude, David, Woodrow, Alto, Died December 24, 1916, Donated by GGranddaughter Mrs. JE Pruitt, TX City, TX.

An entire family dead on Christmas Eve. Already we know it’s tragic…but begin looking deeper and you will find it’s so much worse than you can imagine!

John N. Reeves was in his 60’s and a local jack of all trades, known to keep lots of money in his home. By Winter 1916 he had outlived his first wife and was married to his much younger second wife and was raising a whole new set of children, not uncommon in those days. The only reason known that evil beset the family that Christmas Eve night was pure greed.

Henry Waller was a neighbor. He was not a friend of John Reeves, in fact, they had had an argument recently. But for some reason, Waller was able to convince a younger man named Johnny Long and two black men named Chester Tyson and Mark Peters to go with him to the Reeves residence during the dead of night. Johnny Long knew what was up. He snuck out of his house quietly and caught his brother’s horse which was in the pasture (not in the barn) and rode silently out to meet Waller and the other men. Tyson and Peters were uneasy but went along with Waller who said they were going to a card game. Tyson was inexplicably armed with an axe.

Once there at the home, Waller went into the house and began to hack John Reeves’ head to pieces. Mrs. Reeves awakened and ran from the house but was chased down and hacked to death in the backyard. The men turned on the children and began to beat and hack at them with the axe and other clubs. When satisfied that all were dead, they stole about $4000 and at least one pistol. Johnny Long successfully snuck back home and set his brother’s horse out to pasture and was in his bed by 5:30 am on Christmas Day having participated in the worst massacre that Webster parish had ever seen.

But it soon fell apart. The children weren’t quite dead, in fact the murderers missed one! Little 7-year-old George Cody Reeves was very much alive and well and apparently a heavy sleeper. He woke up to find that the baby was lying in a pool of blood but attempting to crawl and his other brother was still barely alive. He got dressed and ran for help at the nearest neighbor who arrived horrified at what he saw! The living children were rushed to Shreveport to a hospital but did not survive.

Soon the rumors surfaced and all four were arrested along with others who were involved. The entire parish was sickened by the murders. The trials were sensational and dragged on for months. The four men were convicted but then another scandal erupted: the white men were sentenced to life in prison but the black men were sentenced to death. Public outcry was unbelievable! They felt that the black men were the least responsible of the murders and that all should suffer the same fate. The governor began to pardon Tyson and Peters and stay the executions over and over to give the courts more time to commute the sentences. After 4 long years, they were commuted to life in prison as well.

Henry Waller died in Angola in 1926, ironically his grave is one of the few from that time period which is marked. The others I feel like are buried there as well but it’s hard to tell.

As one final note, little George Cody Reeves’ reprieve did not last long. The sole survivor of the Christmas Eve axe murder drowned in Bayou Dorcheat in July 25, 1920 at the age of 10.

1924 Jackson Parish: prohibition was in full swing which meant the Sheriff was bound to prosecute moonshiners to the fullest extent of the law. Liquor has always been big business in Louisiana, despite what our “blue laws” of North Louisiana may have led you to believe. Moonshine was a thriving industry in the 1920’s and it was cut-throat. A man that got between a moonshiner and his money was likely to end up dead…and often did.

On August 22, 1924, Jackson Parish Sheriff Eli Rentz led a raid on a moonshine still after dark near Ansley, Louisiana and captured three men: Freeman Coleman, Willie Washington, and Booker Boone. While Rentz was placing them inside the police vehicle, the men overpowered Rentz and shot him with his own weapon. They escaped into the night.

An epic manhunt began. The bloodhounds were brought in and more than 500 law men were on the trail of the desperados. Boone and Washington were captured within the first couple days but Coleman was a bit more crafty. He headed towards Homer where he had friends. The private investigators brought in from Texas zeroed in on a close friend of Coleman’s named Charles Pierson and chose to keep posses close to his residence in case Coleman came calling for help. Their patience was rewarded.

Coleman arrived on foot a few days after the murder and asked for foot and shelter. Pierson agreed and asked Coleman to wait a little while to give him some time to cook for him. While Coleman was waiting, Pierson slipped out to the possemen who were hiding near his house and tipped them off. Freeman Coleman was taken into custody without incident.

The three men were hanged on October 3, 1924 in Jonesboro, Louisiana. Booker Boone’s last words were an appeal to the crowd to “join church, get married and leave that whiskey alone.”

In an interesting side note, I found an article where the murder weapon was found in a safe in 2001 in possession of Rentz’s grandson, however it had to be seized by authorities due to the fact that the younger Rentz was a convicted felon himself of drug charges and could not legally possess the firearm. It was still loaded with what appeared to be the original ammunition from the last night that Eli had it and before it was turned on him! At the time of the 2001 article, the Shreveport police department that had seized the weapon was trying to prevent it’s having to be destroyed as required by law and instead have it donated to a museum in Jonesboro but I do not know if they managed to save the old .45!

Sometimes things happen that just have to be more than coincidence. Doing a little research from an article, I found an old family legend that was intriguing due to the amount of head injuries that seemed to be some cosmic pay-back for the first death!

In 1912, baseball was already a becoming an American pastime and little boys loved the game. In the town of Eros, Louisiana during one spring day (the exact date is now unknown) a large group had gathered and the families were having a fine time passing the hours in the warm sunshine playing a few innings of ball. For reasons unknown, whether by accident or on purpose, young George Brown was struck in the head by an equal in age Foster Malone. The injury proved fatal. George died shortly after and was buried in Eros Cemetery and that grave is now unmarked. It would be unknown probably if not for family history and recordings in cemetery listings.

Foster Malone grew into a young man. On December 24, 1914 Foster was attending a Christmas party in Eros, Louisiana where things got out of hand which is apparently what was bound to happen in 1914. Foster was struck over the head with a stick of stove wood by a fellow by the name of Jack Portman. At the time, Foster did not appear to be terribly injured, just very drunk and had a bad headache. Over the next two weeks, he became much worse with double vision and severe headaches, nausea and vomiting. On January 8, 1915, his family loaded him up on a train bound for Shreveport for medical treatment. He made it as far as Simsboro before he died.

Since the delay of his death, it wasn’t entirely proven that Portman’s attack caused the death although it was the likely culprit. Jack Portman himself lived to be 56 years-old. Family legend has it that his life was ended by his second wife when she hit him over the head with a cast iron skillet on October 28, 1953! Thus the head injury trilogy has come full circle.

If I haven’t mentioned it before, the 1930’s were a little lacking in modern day entertainment but young folks have never let that get in the way of a good time! The piney woods of Louisiana were always good for a dance party on Saturday night with a nice little moonshine on the side. But as was likely to happen, fights broke out and things got ugly often.

On August 1, 1936, a big ol’ party was going at Herman Albritton’s place near Canbeal Road in Farmerville, Louisiana. As the evening moved on, the party goers got a bit drunker and the arguments began to break out. Eventually a large brawl broke out which ended with Marshal Scarborough being cut broadly in the femoral artery and bleeding like a stuck hog. BF Ford was the on holding the bloody knife.

Kilpatrick’s was called for use of the hearse/ambulance to carry Marshal to Monroe as he was bleeding so badly. He was nearly dead by the time they got him to St. Francis Sanitarium. No worries though, the doctors there finished him off by amputating his leg up nearly to his hip! No way was he going to survive that surgery with nearly no blood inside of his poor body. Marshal Scarborough, age 22, employee of CCC camp of Farmerville and unfortunate victim of drinking and knife fighting was dead by 3:30 am on August 2, 1936.

BF Ford was arrested but charges were dropped. Apparently it was not an intentional stabbing but more of an “equal opportunity” stabbing. Both young men were in the middle of a large group of fighters who were drunkenly fighting and stabbing away at each other.

Interestingly enough, they are both buried at Liberty Cemeteries but not the same one! Scarborough is buried at Liberty Hill/Taylor Cemetery in Famerville and Ford is buried at Liberty Cemetery in Linville, Louisiana.

The last few nights have been full of family misery and angry killings. Not all graves are full of the terrible dead. Most (I would like to think) are filled with people who lived their lives to the fullest and made good their time on planet Earth. One such grave was one that my son Reese asked me to look up one day as we were exploring Downsville Cemetery a while back! I didn’t expect to find much about the older lady buried beneath the long flat marker but I was wrong. I found the story of a cheerful woman who delighted everyone around her and was beloved to her family and community until the night her life peacefully ended in her sleep.

Catherine Lucretia Coulter was a cheerful little girl born on October 10, 1824 in North Carolina. She was married at age 16 to George Gunby and she became a devout Methodist. She and her husband were fans of the singing and camp meetings. Their life was not without hardship as they had 10 children but only 3 outlived her.

They eventually settled near Downsville which is where she called home! She was affectionately known as “Aunt Gunby” throughout the community and loved spending time with children. Apparently the more rambunctious the kids were the better as far as Aunt Gunby was concerned. She was known to say to “let them be children” and smile and giggle while watching their antics from her rocking chair. George, being a fair bit older than her, passed away at age 84 in 1889 and was buried at Downsville Cemetery.

She spent most of her widowed years living in Monroe to be near her adult children but still enjoyed the making friends with the neighbors and keeping in touch with her Downsville neighbors. The day before she passed away, she went visiting in Downsville and spent some time with friends enjoying watching a little boy play. Then they went home and she retired for the evening. They found that she had died sometimes during the night on June 5, 1912. They said she was smiling “as though her sleep was so pleasant she had decided to continue it”.

Aunt Gunby was buried at Downsville Cemetery next to her husband on a peaceful hill which now has large trees atop. And there she continues her sleep, the little sweet old lady who loved children, church singings, visiting friends and a good old belly laugh. And I didn’t even know her story…until a curious child of my own thought to ask!

In the early 1900’s, a dispute arose between two families on the border of Louisiana and Arkansas that left two young men dead in the streets of Huttig, Arkansas.

From what can be gleaned from newspaper reports of the time, a fellow by the name of Thomas Duke became aware that one of his several daughters had been “seduced” by a young man named Eddie Wise, aged 24, from the same area. How he came to be aware of this knowledge, we are not certain. Nothing is mentioned of an illegitimate pregnancy or anything of that sort so we can only speculate that it was some rumor. Duke confronted Eddie about the situation and he assured him that it was not true. He told Duke he would come over to his house and speak with him and his daughter and straighten out the whole situation.

When Eddie arrived, the young lady was not there. He nervously asked for more time and said he would return that evening. Eddie rode his horse to Sadie, Louisiana and asked his brother, Winfield, to accompany him to the Duke house. But in Thomas Duke’s opinion, time had run out.

The Wise boys were unsaddling and putting their horses up in the livery stable when Thomas Duke, his son Ollie Duke and Henry Wheelis arrived on the evening of September 24, 1907. All of the older men were armed and they were done listening to excuses.

In the streets in front of the livery stable, the Wise boys were shot full of buckshot. Eddie still protesting his innocence. Henry Wheelis jumped atop his horse and fled town. Thomas and Ollie turned themselves in to law enforcement and began to serve time in jail until their trial.

The bodies of Eddie and Winfield were buried under Woodman of the World monuments in Union Cemetery in Sadie, Louisiana.

The trial was apparently very thorough and very debated. I could find where a letter attesting to the good character of Thomas Duke and his son was submitted to the Judge on his behalf by many of the citizens of Union Parish and Union County both. Most felt that he had been driven to the heinous act by desperation in concern for his daughter’s honor. I could not find the results of the trial in the newspapers but I feel that he was probably acquitted.

Interestingly, Thomas Duke is buried in the same cemetery as the Wise boys! As is his son Ollie. To be honest, it is one of my favorite cemeteries to visit, one set of my grandparents are buried there and that cemetery is just full of wild frontier history!

The more I study newspapers of the past, the more I realize that they had no problem telling all of your business back in the old days. If you got caught up to no good, then you had better be prepared for the fall-out or dead. In most cases, you would just be better off dead!

No matter what most cities what like you to believe, the world’s oldest profession is still alive and well, even today. Oh it may hide itself a bit better nowadays as it is nowhere near as socially “acceptable” as it once was but it’s still there. However, in 1909, it was pretty easy to find a red light district in any major city. The living was easy as long as the money flowed like whiskey.

The red light district in Monroe, Louisiana was home to a house of ill-repute owned by a woman named Ruby Bell. In July of 1909, two of the regulars had become quite enchanted with a working girl there by the name of Velma Henry. So much so, that one of them: Sedley Bracey was following her.

Now I’m certain he knew she was a hooker and that was how she made her living but he still seemed to be highly unhappy when he caught her in the company with another young man leaving her house around 12 am on July 8, 1909, as they were heading back to Ruby Bell’s. Sedley’s shouting scared the young man away and he fled into the darkness as Sedley berated Velma for betraying him with another man.

WL Webb, who was patiently waiting his turn at Ruby Bell’s for Velma’s return, heard the screaming and ran into the street to rescue her. He fired wildly 6 times but managed to hit Sedley Bracey 3 times and kill him, Bracey did have time to draw his pistol and fire back and hit Webb a couple of times but neither were lethal shots. Velma was luckily not injured in the gunfight.

Sedley Bracey was a member of one of the oldest and most prominent families of Ouachita Parish, while not as successful as the rest, he was said to be a rather likeable character, save for his jealous streak.

WL Webb was a local accountant for several businesses and was married with several children. The fact that he killed a man outside of a whorehouse raised more than a few eyebrows although it seems that he got acquitted for self-defense.

Wish I knew where all these interesting characters were buried!

In 1926, the Union Carbon Plant at Swartz, Louisiana employed a great deal of young men in the area. I know this because my grandfather was one of them! Lots of family members worked there, sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes it’s not, especially when someone knows your work schedule that you may not trust completely!

Alymer Phelps and AC McDougale were first cousins and married with families as well as close friends and co-workers. Apparently the trouble started between them when Mrs. Phelps went to AC and told him that her husband, Alymer, was running around with McDougale’s wife while McDougale was at work! AC confronted Alymer and accused his wife of lying and told him to make her retract her statements about Alymer and Mrs. McDougale or he (AC) would kill Alymer on Friday morning.

Now interestingly, he did not ask if the rumors were true or insist that they stop seeing each other, just immediately called Phelps’ wife a liar! Well, by Friday morning, apparently the whole thing had not been cleared up to AC McDougale’s liking so he pulled a pistol out of his pocket and shot Alymer Phelps dead in the locker room of Union Carbon Plant as everyone was getting ready to start their shift.

McDougale was tried and acquitted of the murder in November of 1926. And the broken and grieving families moved on.

In July of 1913, four girls set out for a day of adventure and fun playing in the Ouachita river near what we know as Logtown where the mill was once located in Monroe, Louisiana. It was innocent fun and the girls, aging from 11-14, were friends as their fathers were co-workers. They had been strictly warned to stay on the sand bar…

As they were playing and splashing, three of the girls inadvertently wandered too far into the water and were swept away by the swift current. The daughter of R. S. Gibson was the only child who was spared. Fishermen who were nearby heard the cries of the distraught child and responded to try to rescue the other girls but they were too far gone already.

Mary Elizabeth Downing, a few days shy of her 13th birthday was from Monroe, Louisiana. Her body was retrieved the same day and she is buried in Riverview Cemetery in Monroe, Louisiana.

Rosa Lee Murphy, 14 years-old, was from Ruston, Louisiana. Her body was also recovered the same day. Her remains were noted as being buried in Ruston but if she had a marker, it is now missing.

Ila Yearwood, 12 years-old, was the last body to be located the following day. Her body was returned to her hometown of Coushatta, Louisiana and buried there in Springville Cemetery.

As a final tragic side note, I looked for R.S. Gibson’s final resting place only to find that he had committed suicide in 1932 amid financial woes after having run many successful lumber mills for years. He is buried in Zwolle City Cemetery but I could not find a photo of his stone.