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Conversations that intrigued me most were those that ceased the minute children walked in, or which were conducted in muffled tones. Signals of this were words like "Chattahoochee", the name of the town where the State Asylum was located and to which townspeople were sent from time to time...or Aunt Bern's "l' enfant" to avoid speaking plainly of someone's being pregnant. On this afternoon in 1932 not long after my ninth birthday, I'd tired of playing hopscotch with my sister, Chris, and slipped into the room unnoticed. I didn't know what was being talked about, but they had captured my attention.
"Well, Malcolm, that was in Crestview, in Okaloosa County. I do not think such a thing would've happened here in De Funiak Springs, in Walton County,” Aunt Bern replied with a familiar positive tone of voice.
"I'm not so sure, Bernice. I think a good many people from De Funiak went over to Crestview to witness it. Oh, I know there's a more lawless element over there, but when people begin spoutin' that primitive eye for an eye justice...watch out!”
They were so engrossed they didn't see me, so they continued talking. I Sat very quietly in the corner hoping to understand. From the intensity of their voices, I knew this was important.
"Do you know,” my father continued, "Buddy Cawthon told me he saw the whole thing. For two days the condemned men from their jail cell watched the scaffold being built and then had to walk past their coffins on the way to the scaffold. Buddy said over 2,000 people were there to watch the hanging They came from all over Northwest Florida and South Alabama."
“I suspect they were mostly from Alabama,” Aunt Bern said “Bernice, do you really think folks in Walton County are more humane than in a neighboring county or state?”
"Yes, Malcolm, I do." Aunt Bern sat up even straighter and pronounced, "I think the Presbyterian settlers imbued our area with high moral principles that continue to this day. You know very well we do not have all those murders and other crimes. I understand that in Okaloosa County men drive around with guns in their cars."
"T hate to tell you, Bernice, but I think we have a few gun-toters in our county too. Thankfully, they don't seem to be blood-thirsty, and of course, they are not Presbyterians,” he added using his teasing voice, which Aunt Bern ignored.
Daddy paused long enough to take his pipe out of his coat pocket, fill it with tobacco and while lighting it continued to talk. "Carrying guns is one thing—though you could never persuade me to own one—but a public
hanging seems to me is reverting to the Dark Ages."
Daddy paused long enough to take his pipe out of his coat pocket, fill it with tobacco and while lighting it continued to talk. "Carrying guns is one thing—though you could never persuade me to own one—but a public
hanging seems to me is reverting to the Dark Ages."
So, that was it. A hanging. I'd seen a drawing in my history book, butit seemed unreal, not like an actual event. I couldn't resist asking "Daddy, who was hanged?"
“Oh, Lord, Marjorie, where'd you come from?" My father turned toook at me.
“Honey,” Aunt Bern said, "this is something that happened a long time ago, nearly ten years ago, before you were born. Don't concern yourself with it. And, it was not in our county."
"But who was hanged? Why? And, did it kill them?" I persisted. “Might as well tell her, Bernice. I know this child. She will not stop until she finds out."
“Oh, there you are, Marjorie," Mamma said as she walked into the living room. "Chris is waiting for me to take her to the playground. Don't you want to come with us?”
“No, ma‘am, I'd rather hear about the hanging in Crestview." “The hanging? What hanging?” Mamma asked, looking at my father, alarm in her voice.
“Bernice and I were talking about our opposition to capital punishment, which to my knowledge has never kept people from committing murder, and the conversation turned to that last public execution in Crestview in 1921. Remember those two hitchhikers who robbed and murdered the good Samaritan who gave them a ride to Milton where they hoped to find work? Well, Marjorie walked in about the time we got to the hanging.”
“I don't think the children should hear such things," Mamma said. “Come on, honey, let's go to the playground."
"But, I want to find out what happened and if they still hang people.”
“No, my dear," Aunt Bern answered, "execution by public hanging is no longer permitted in Florida. In fact, everyone was so shocked at this last one I think that's why the law was changed."
“Bernice, you remember it was our cousin, Gus, who sentenced those men. The paper said he got wind of talk of a lynch crowd gathering in Washington County, where the murdered man was highly regarded, and also of rumblings in Okaloosa County, scene of the crime. Judge Campbell was determined that wouldn't happen and rushed up the execution. I'm just thankful the guilty men were white.”
"Malcolm, please do not pursue this further," Mamma said.
“She's right," Aunt Bern replied. "I must be going. Except to say there has never been a lynching in Walton County and the only one I ever heard of in Florida was in Okaloosa County, and I don't think even there they lynched Negroes.”
"I'll see you to your car, Bernice," Daddy said as they left the house. | trailed behind, curious to learn more, as Daddy continued talking.
"Did I tell you Buddy Cawthon told me the day of the hanging it was sohot, some men were selling water to the thirsty crowd for 10¢ a cup?" "No!" an outraged Aunt Bern replied.
"Kind of reminds me of a KKK parade I heard about in Selma where those dunces in white sheets marched in broad daylight. Story is some enterprising Negro boys set up a lemonade stand, and the brave men in their pointy hats and white robes stopped to quench their thirst. Paid 5¢ a glass," Daddy burst out laughing. “The audacity of that strikes me as very funny. But then,” he added more soberly, "I'm not sure the tale is true. .frightened a. Negro people rightfully are of that bunch. Talk about Southern gentility ang principles, Bernice, those Klan hooligans are a scourge, the lowest of the low!"
"Malcolm, no one, absolutely NO one I have ever known _has ever participated in the Ku Klux Klan. Did you know they are not only against Negroes, but also Catholics and Jews?"
"Yes, Bernice, I know that," Daddy replied.
"You know perfectly well too that we have never had such in Walton County," Aunt Bern said emphatically.
"And I hope to heaven we never will," my father replied.
“Marjorie," Mamma called from the porch, "come along now. We're going to the park."
As Mamma, Chris and I walked to the playground, I couldn't stop thinking about the hanging. There was a boy, Willie Joe, whose house we had to pass, who was rumored to catch stray cats and hang them in his garage. When I'd heard that, I knew what people meant when they said, “It made mv stomach turn over." Now, to imagine what a person being hanged must've felt or the people watching this awful thing was almost un _ able. _I walked hurriedly past Willie Joe's house and then began to run to the park. Once there I grabbed one of the long chain strands of playground equipment, which was like a metal maypole, and pushed as fast as I could to make it go round. Some boys ran up to join in and we sailed round and round, faster than I'd ever flown, feet leaving the ground, hanging on for dear life. It wasn’t funjust a complete distraction.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Mamma and Chnis had arrived. Mamma looked worried, but didn't say anything. Pretty soon, the boys and I each let go and jumped out of the way of the clanging, circhng chains. I walked wobbly and dizzy over to my mother, who was quietly sitting on a bench. "What's the matter, honey?" Mamma asked. She knew the fierce behavior she'd observed was unusual for me. "Nothing!" I replied. "I just felt like going fast."
We were silent as we watched my little sister having a happy time on the swings. “Don't you want to go push Chris on the swings?" "No, ma'am, I don't. Mamma, when we go home, could we walk a different street?” "Why certainly," she answered. “We'll go whichever way you wish." My mother was always so loving and agreeable I wanted to crawl up into her arms, but I was too big a girl for that now. Besides, she'd have wondered what in the world was really wrong. I was sorry now that I'd overheard talk of the hanging. I also remembered that Mamma hadn't wanted to talk about it. And, now I didn't like thinking of Willie Joe and the cats, but I didn't much want to talk about that either.
Next morning, however, I went into the kitchen to watch Cattie, the cook, prepare dinner, which was our mid-day meal. "Cattie, will you tell me about that hanging in Crestview? I think it was before I was born and Aunt Bern said that was the last one in Florida." Cattie stopped me before I could continue.
"Marj'rie," she said emphatically, "I don't know nuthin about no hangin and besides, I don't ever talk about such. Best to keep quiet about those things.”
"But, Daddy said this was a hanging that Judge Campbell ordered and I see him in church every Sunday, so why would he have men hanged?
‘I told you. I ain't discussin this. You got questions about the Judge or the law, you ask your Uncle Stuart."
"Cattie, did you know Willie Joe catches stray cats and hangs them in his garage?"
"Lord, Lord, I hate to hear that. But how come you think that's a fact?"
"Because...one day Willie Joe took Robert in to see one, and Robert told me."
"That's hard to believe," said Cattie, shaking her head as she continued to pull off pieces of biscuit dough, shape them in her hands and place them on a pan.
"Robert says Willie Joe's father beats him and then Wilhe Joe turns around and kills a cat.
Uncle Stuart waited a few minutes and then added, "I think your daddy not only does not believe in capital punishment, but it was making this a public exhibition that he and your Aunt Bern found very objectionable. Matter of fact, I too think that's going too far, but Judge Campbell had good reasons. The law now requires executions within the confines of the State Penitentiary at Raiford. It is not left to individual counties. When Judge Campbell ordered the hanging in the jailyard, the law allowed it. He simply carried out the law."
"Uncle Stuart, what's a lynching? Daddy said the Judge was afraid there'd be a lynching and that's why he did that."
"Marjorie, I'm not sure your Mamma and Daddy would wish you to delve into such ugly business, but, simply put, a lynching is a dastardly deed when men take the law into their own hands and, without benefit of a just trial or sentence by the court, hang those they believe to be guilty of a crime.”
"Daddy said he was glad the two men in Crestview weren't Negroes. Why did he say that?"
Uncle leaned back in his chair, smoking the cigar, and I was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer. "Honey, it is a terrible fact that Negroes are more likely to be lynched than white people. I do not know —ctly why such suspicion and hatred exists...and that's not just in the South. When the Legislature was working on changing the law regarding executions, I saved some old newspapers on that topic. Since you're so curious and have already heard much, I don't suppose it would hurt to let you read them if you wish. You'll see there is a connection between the legal execution of those two hitchhikers and a man who had been lynched (illegally killed) not long betore that. Judge Campbell was determined that in the case of the convicted murderers, an angry mob would not be allowed to take the law into their own hands. He'd heard that might occur. How old did you say you are now?"
‘I'm nine, but I'm in the fifth grade, and we've been studying history. This is history, isn't it? Maybe I could write my report on the Crestview hanging.”
This was not pleasant reading and I decided I'd learned enough. I put away all the papers except the one about lynchings, and asked the secretary if | could take that one home and copy something. She agreed, if I'd be sure to return it.
When I got home, I climbed the camphor tree, pulled open the paper and read, “Lynching Record For First Six Months, 1920." The account gave figures kept by Tuskegee Institute, a Negro college in Alabama. It said that the number of lynchings had been decreasing between 1917, when it was 29, to less than 12 in the first six months of 1920. All those lynched were Negroes.
That night I felt too sick to eat supper. Mamma thought I was "coming down with something.” I hid the paper so as not to worry her. Next morning I got up early and copied the figures of lynchings in 1920 and the states in which they took place. They were as follows: Alabama, 2; Florida, 1; Georgia, 1; Kentucky, 1; Kansas, 1; Minnesota, 3; South Carolina, 1; Texas, 1.
After school I returned the newspaper to Uncle Stuart's office without comment. I never did write the report on the Crestview hanging or on lynchings.
“Bernice and I were talking about our opposition to capital punishment, which to my knowledge has never kept people from committing murder, and the conversation turned to that last public execution in Crestview in 1921. Remember those two hitchhikers who robbed and murdered the good Samaritan who gave them a ride to Milton where they hoped to find work? Well, Marjorie walked in about the time we got to the hanging.”
“I don't think the children should hear such things," Mamma said. “Come on, honey, let's go to the playground."
"But, I want to find out what happened and if they still hang people.”
“No, my dear," Aunt Bern answered, "execution by public hanging is no longer permitted in Florida. In fact, everyone was so shocked at this last one I think that's why the law was changed."
“Bernice, you remember it was our cousin, Gus, who sentenced those men. The paper said he got wind of talk of a lynch crowd gathering in Washington County, where the murdered man was highly regarded, and also of rumblings in Okaloosa County, scene of the crime. Judge Campbell was determined that wouldn't happen and rushed up the execution. I'm just thankful the guilty men were white.”
"Malcolm, please do not pursue this further," Mamma said.
“She's right," Aunt Bern replied. "I must be going. Except to say there has never been a lynching in Walton County and the only one I ever heard of in Florida was in Okaloosa County, and I don't think even there they lynched Negroes.”
"I'll see you to your car, Bernice," Daddy said as they left the house. | trailed behind, curious to learn more, as Daddy continued talking.
"Did I tell you Buddy Cawthon told me the day of the hanging it was sohot, some men were selling water to the thirsty crowd for 10¢ a cup?" "No!" an outraged Aunt Bern replied.
"Kind of reminds me of a KKK parade I heard about in Selma where those dunces in white sheets marched in broad daylight. Story is some enterprising Negro boys set up a lemonade stand, and the brave men in their pointy hats and white robes stopped to quench their thirst. Paid 5¢ a glass," Daddy burst out laughing. “The audacity of that strikes me as very funny. But then,” he added more soberly, "I'm not sure the tale is true. .frightened a. Negro people rightfully are of that bunch. Talk about Southern gentility ang principles, Bernice, those Klan hooligans are a scourge, the lowest of the low!"
"Malcolm, no one, absolutely NO one I have ever known _has ever participated in the Ku Klux Klan. Did you know they are not only against Negroes, but also Catholics and Jews?"
"Yes, Bernice, I know that," Daddy replied.
"You know perfectly well too that we have never had such in Walton County," Aunt Bern said emphatically.
"And I hope to heaven we never will," my father replied.
“Marjorie," Mamma called from the porch, "come along now. We're going to the park."
As Mamma, Chris and I walked to the playground, I couldn't stop thinking about the hanging. There was a boy, Willie Joe, whose house we had to pass, who was rumored to catch stray cats and hang them in his garage. When I'd heard that, I knew what people meant when they said, “It made mv stomach turn over." Now, to imagine what a person being hanged must've felt or the people watching this awful thing was almost un _ able. _I walked hurriedly past Willie Joe's house and then began to run to the park. Once there I grabbed one of the long chain strands of playground equipment, which was like a metal maypole, and pushed as fast as I could to make it go round. Some boys ran up to join in and we sailed round and round, faster than I'd ever flown, feet leaving the ground, hanging on for dear life. It wasn’t funjust a complete distraction.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Mamma and Chnis had arrived. Mamma looked worried, but didn't say anything. Pretty soon, the boys and I each let go and jumped out of the way of the clanging, circhng chains. I walked wobbly and dizzy over to my mother, who was quietly sitting on a bench. "What's the matter, honey?" Mamma asked. She knew the fierce behavior she'd observed was unusual for me. "Nothing!" I replied. "I just felt like going fast."
We were silent as we watched my little sister having a happy time on the swings. “Don't you want to go push Chris on the swings?" "No, ma'am, I don't. Mamma, when we go home, could we walk a different street?” "Why certainly," she answered. “We'll go whichever way you wish." My mother was always so loving and agreeable I wanted to crawl up into her arms, but I was too big a girl for that now. Besides, she'd have wondered what in the world was really wrong. I was sorry now that I'd overheard talk of the hanging. I also remembered that Mamma hadn't wanted to talk about it. And, now I didn't like thinking of Willie Joe and the cats, but I didn't much want to talk about that either.
Next morning, however, I went into the kitchen to watch Cattie, the cook, prepare dinner, which was our mid-day meal. "Cattie, will you tell me about that hanging in Crestview? I think it was before I was born and Aunt Bern said that was the last one in Florida." Cattie stopped me before I could continue.
"Marj'rie," she said emphatically, "I don't know nuthin about no hangin and besides, I don't ever talk about such. Best to keep quiet about those things.”
"But, Daddy said this was a hanging that Judge Campbell ordered and I see him in church every Sunday, so why would he have men hanged?
‘I told you. I ain't discussin this. You got questions about the Judge or the law, you ask your Uncle Stuart."
"Cattie, did you know Willie Joe catches stray cats and hangs them in his garage?"
"Lord, Lord, I hate to hear that. But how come you think that's a fact?"
"Because...one day Willie Joe took Robert in to see one, and Robert told me."
"That's hard to believe," said Cattie, shaking her head as she continued to pull off pieces of biscuit dough, shape them in her hands and place them on a pan.
"Robert says Willie Joe's father beats him and then Wilhe Joe turns around and kills a cat.
Do you think the men that robbed and killed the man who gave them a ride maybe had mean fathers?"
“How would I know that? Marj'rie, you ask too many questions I toly you I ain't talkin about that Crestview hangin. Now, that's it! Go on out ang play with your sister, and forget about hangings—cats or people. It's too nice a day to spoil it with such talk. Go on now. I got work to do." &
I knew when Cattie had finally had enough of my questions. I knew too that my sister would only be frightened if I told her about Willie Joe or what I'd heard Daddy and Aunt Bern talking about. Too much about all of it puzzled me, and I didn't feel like playing, so I climbed a favorite camphor tree with just right branches for sitting quietly. From my vantage point, I could also keep an eye on the infamous garage. My big worry was that our cat, NIRA (named for the National Industrial Recovery Act) might be snatched up by Willie Joe, who now loomed in my mind as a monstrous boy. Since Id never had any physical punishment except once when Daddy put a thin little peach tree switch to my legs, and from my mother not even a harsh word, it was hard to imagine the mean treatment Willie Joe received. No one knew much about Willie Joe and his family. They hadn't lived in De Funiak very long.
Not long after overhearing Aunt Bern and Daddy talking, I decided to follow Cattie's advice and talk to Uncle Stuart (Aunt Bern's husband), who was a lawyer and a highly regarded legislator. I invented some excuse to go downtown and stopped by his office.
The secretary greeted me warmly, asking if there were something she could help me with. I told her I'd actually come to see Uncle Stuart, if he wasn't too busy.
"Why, no, Marjorie. This is such an unexpected pleasure, I'm sure he'll be delighted." She knocked on the office door and beckoned me to go" J hadn't before seen the inside of Uncle Stuart's office nor had I ever seen % gnany books in one place, except at the Library. From floor to ceiling, bookcases were filled with thick books—most of them the same tan color. ! jiked the feel of the room, the aroma of Uncle Stuart's cigar and the large desk—most of which was covered with papers he was working on laws to keep people in line—else heaven knows what sort of jungle we'd have."
“How would I know that? Marj'rie, you ask too many questions I toly you I ain't talkin about that Crestview hangin. Now, that's it! Go on out ang play with your sister, and forget about hangings—cats or people. It's too nice a day to spoil it with such talk. Go on now. I got work to do." &
I knew when Cattie had finally had enough of my questions. I knew too that my sister would only be frightened if I told her about Willie Joe or what I'd heard Daddy and Aunt Bern talking about. Too much about all of it puzzled me, and I didn't feel like playing, so I climbed a favorite camphor tree with just right branches for sitting quietly. From my vantage point, I could also keep an eye on the infamous garage. My big worry was that our cat, NIRA (named for the National Industrial Recovery Act) might be snatched up by Willie Joe, who now loomed in my mind as a monstrous boy. Since Id never had any physical punishment except once when Daddy put a thin little peach tree switch to my legs, and from my mother not even a harsh word, it was hard to imagine the mean treatment Willie Joe received. No one knew much about Willie Joe and his family. They hadn't lived in De Funiak very long.
Not long after overhearing Aunt Bern and Daddy talking, I decided to follow Cattie's advice and talk to Uncle Stuart (Aunt Bern's husband), who was a lawyer and a highly regarded legislator. I invented some excuse to go downtown and stopped by his office.
The secretary greeted me warmly, asking if there were something she could help me with. I told her I'd actually come to see Uncle Stuart, if he wasn't too busy.
"Why, no, Marjorie. This is such an unexpected pleasure, I'm sure he'll be delighted." She knocked on the office door and beckoned me to go" J hadn't before seen the inside of Uncle Stuart's office nor had I ever seen % gnany books in one place, except at the Library. From floor to ceiling, bookcases were filled with thick books—most of them the same tan color. ! jiked the feel of the room, the aroma of Uncle Stuart's cigar and the large desk—most of which was covered with papers he was working on laws to keep people in line—else heaven knows what sort of jungle we'd have."
Uncle Stuart waited a few minutes and then added, "I think your daddy not only does not believe in capital punishment, but it was making this a public exhibition that he and your Aunt Bern found very objectionable. Matter of fact, I too think that's going too far, but Judge Campbell had good reasons. The law now requires executions within the confines of the State Penitentiary at Raiford. It is not left to individual counties. When Judge Campbell ordered the hanging in the jailyard, the law allowed it. He simply carried out the law."
"Uncle Stuart, what's a lynching? Daddy said the Judge was afraid there'd be a lynching and that's why he did that."
"Marjorie, I'm not sure your Mamma and Daddy would wish you to delve into such ugly business, but, simply put, a lynching is a dastardly deed when men take the law into their own hands and, without benefit of a just trial or sentence by the court, hang those they believe to be guilty of a crime.”
"Daddy said he was glad the two men in Crestview weren't Negroes. Why did he say that?"
Uncle leaned back in his chair, smoking the cigar, and I was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer. "Honey, it is a terrible fact that Negroes are more likely to be lynched than white people. I do not know —ctly why such suspicion and hatred exists...and that's not just in the South. When the Legislature was working on changing the law regarding executions, I saved some old newspapers on that topic. Since you're so curious and have already heard much, I don't suppose it would hurt to let you read them if you wish. You'll see there is a connection between the legal execution of those two hitchhikers and a man who had been lynched (illegally killed) not long betore that. Judge Campbell was determined that in the case of the convicted murderers, an angry mob would not be allowed to take the law into their own hands. He'd heard that might occur. How old did you say you are now?"
‘I'm nine, but I'm in the fifth grade, and we've been studying history. This is history, isn't it? Maybe I could write my report on the Crestview hanging.”
“All right, you may go through the old newspapers I have in the box in the corner marked "Executions." I have to leave now. Don't stay at him too long, and be sure and ask your mother before you come again with questions. Much as I enjoy visiting with you, I think you should ask for permission "
“Yes, sir, I will, and thank you."
After Uncle Stuart left, I leafed through the stack of old newspapers and took out a few. One had a heading that read, "MAN WILL BE HANGED IN OKALOOSA COUNTY JAILYARD AT CRESTVIEW THIS MORNING.” The date was 1920, so that was not the hitchhikers. In this case, a man shot two elderly people while trying to rob them of money he knew was kept in an old trunk in their bedroom. The robber had put shoe polish on his face to make him look like a Negro. He also hoped that way the old folks wouldn't recognize him. But, the old man lived long enough to tell the sheriff, and his wife was only scratched by the bullet.
In this PENSACOLA JOURNAL account there was also a piece on lynchings. I put that aside to read later. Digging deeper in the box, I came to two accounts from local De Funiak Springs’ papers of the 1921 murder of Mr Tuggle, the man who had given the hitchhikers a ride from Mossv Head, just east of our town, to Milton, where they hoped to find work.
In a full confession, one of the men told of how Mr. Tuggle had offered to give them a ride back if they were not successful in finding work When the two hitchhikers did not find jobs, they waited at the side of the road and, sure enough, Mr. Tuggle came along and picked them up. In the back seat of the car one of the men found an auto jack and hit Mr. Tuggle .The other hitchhiker also hit him to make sure he was unconscious. They robbed M Tuggle, drove the car into the woods, and when they di co h w d, they dumped his body. Since the crime had been committed in Oh County, that's where the trial and sentencing and han n w
In court when asked why they had killed Mr. Tuggle was "For his money. We had none.” One of the men said he thought the court had made the right decision and he was ready to pay the penalty. After Judge
Campbell sentenced the men to death, he sad, May the Lord have mercy on your souls."
“Yes, sir, I will, and thank you."
After Uncle Stuart left, I leafed through the stack of old newspapers and took out a few. One had a heading that read, "MAN WILL BE HANGED IN OKALOOSA COUNTY JAILYARD AT CRESTVIEW THIS MORNING.” The date was 1920, so that was not the hitchhikers. In this case, a man shot two elderly people while trying to rob them of money he knew was kept in an old trunk in their bedroom. The robber had put shoe polish on his face to make him look like a Negro. He also hoped that way the old folks wouldn't recognize him. But, the old man lived long enough to tell the sheriff, and his wife was only scratched by the bullet.
In this PENSACOLA JOURNAL account there was also a piece on lynchings. I put that aside to read later. Digging deeper in the box, I came to two accounts from local De Funiak Springs’ papers of the 1921 murder of Mr Tuggle, the man who had given the hitchhikers a ride from Mossv Head, just east of our town, to Milton, where they hoped to find work.
In a full confession, one of the men told of how Mr. Tuggle had offered to give them a ride back if they were not successful in finding work When the two hitchhikers did not find jobs, they waited at the side of the road and, sure enough, Mr. Tuggle came along and picked them up. In the back seat of the car one of the men found an auto jack and hit Mr. Tuggle .The other hitchhiker also hit him to make sure he was unconscious. They robbed M Tuggle, drove the car into the woods, and when they di co h w d, they dumped his body. Since the crime had been committed in Oh County, that's where the trial and sentencing and han n w
In court when asked why they had killed Mr. Tuggle was "For his money. We had none.” One of the men said he thought the court had made the right decision and he was ready to pay the penalty. After Judge
Campbell sentenced the men to death, he sad, May the Lord have mercy on your souls."
This was not pleasant reading and I decided I'd learned enough. I put away all the papers except the one about lynchings, and asked the secretary if | could take that one home and copy something. She agreed, if I'd be sure to return it.
When I got home, I climbed the camphor tree, pulled open the paper and read, “Lynching Record For First Six Months, 1920." The account gave figures kept by Tuskegee Institute, a Negro college in Alabama. It said that the number of lynchings had been decreasing between 1917, when it was 29, to less than 12 in the first six months of 1920. All those lynched were Negroes.
That night I felt too sick to eat supper. Mamma thought I was "coming down with something.” I hid the paper so as not to worry her. Next morning I got up early and copied the figures of lynchings in 1920 and the states in which they took place. They were as follows: Alabama, 2; Florida, 1; Georgia, 1; Kentucky, 1; Kansas, 1; Minnesota, 3; South Carolina, 1; Texas, 1.
After school I returned the newspaper to Uncle Stuart's office without comment. I never did write the report on the Crestview hanging or on lynchings.
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