The Ouachita Telegraph - J. Frank Allen Shot to Death

Date: Aug. 2000
Submitted by: Lora Peppers <lpeppers@ouachita.lib.la.us>

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The Ouachita Telegraph
Friday, November 15, 1878
Page 3, Column 2

IN MEMORIAM.
        There is another new-made grave in the little cemetery at Vernon.  One of
Jackson’s best and bravest boys is no more.  The circumstances of J. Frank
Allen’s untimely death are sad and affecting.  In the morning he was in the
bloom of life, cheerful, strong and healthy; in the evening he was mortally
stricken and soon ceased to live.
        J. Frank Allen was born in Ouachita Parish, La., Oct. 0, 1853, and moved to
Jackson Parish in March, 1866.  Here he resided with his mother during his
boyhood, and until within a short time of his death in Morehouse Parish,
Nov. 1, 1878.  He may have said to have been reared in Jackson Parish.  No
young man was ever raised in our midst who was more courteous, affable and
obliging.  He was always ready to help a friend and would go any length to
further the cause of what he thought to be the welfare of his friends and
country.  It was this disposition that suddenly brought an end to his
existence.  A turbulent negro in his neighborhood had been making violent
threats against the white people, and Frank and two other companions were
selected to go to him, and warn him to change his course.  In the gallery of
this negro’s house, while asking to see him, he was murderously shot down.
He died for the peace of his community.  He died for Louisiana.
        During the short time that he lingered he died not complain of his hard lot
to die o young, but only regretted he could not see his loved ones at home
once more on earth.  He felt that his death would not be in vain and he made
no lamentations.
        His body was brought from Morehouse for interment at Vernon.  The day of
his burial was sad and beautiful – a soft Indian summer – many of our best
citizens came out to testify their respect for his memory.  The ladies
especially were mourners, and they strewed flowers over his coffin and wept
over all that was left of our once noble and gallant boy.
        Appropriate remarks were made by Capt. E.E. Kidd, who, at their conclusion,
by request, placed within the coffin, a lady’s delicate glove – a tribute of
one of Morehouse’s fairest daughters.  It was her request that it should be
buried with him.  Mr. C. Ives of the M.E. Church performed in an impressive
manner the burial service, and after the grave was filled and, the little
mound of earth smoothed over, with sad hearts we all departed to engage
again in the uncertain struggle of life.
        “How sleep the brave who sink to rest
        By all their country’s wishes blest!
        When spring with dewy fingers cold,
        Returns to deck the hallowed mould,
        She there shall dress a sweeter sod,
        Than fancy’s feet have ever trod,
        By fairy hands their knell is rung,
        By forms unseen their dirge is sung,
        There honor comes a pilgrim gray,
        To bless the turf that wraps their clay,
        And freedom shall awhile repair,
        To dwell a weeping hermit there.”                       K.

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