Mob Rule In New Orleans — Fun in Gretna

+FUN IN GRETNA+

If there are any persons so deluded as to think that human life in the South is valued any more than the life of a brute, he will be speedily undeceived by reading the accounts of unspeakable barbarism committed by the mob in and around New Orleans.

In no other civilized country in the world, nay, more, in no land of barbarians would it be possible to duplicate the scenes of brutality that are reported from New Orleans.

In the heat of blind fury one might conceive how a mad mob might beat and kill a man taken red-handed in a brutal murder.

But it is almost past belief to read that civilized white people, men who boast of their chivalry and blue blood, actually had fun in beating, chasing and shooting men who had no possible connection with any crime.

But this actually happened in Gretna, a few miles from New Orleans.

In its description of the scenes of Tuesday night, the _Picayune_ mentions the brutal chase of several colored men whom the mob sought to kill.

In the instances mentioned, the paper said: Gretna had its full share of excitement between 8 and 11 o'clock last night, in connection with a report that spread through the town that a Negro resembling the slayer of Police Captain Day, of New Orleans, had been seen on the outskirts of the place.

It is true that a suspicious-looking Negro was observed by the residents of Madison and Amelia Streets lurking about the fences of that neighborhood just after dark, and shortly before 8 o'clock John Fist, a young white man, saw the Negro on Fourth Street.

He followed the darkey a short distance, and, coming upon Robert Moore, who is known about town as the "black detective," Fist pointed the Negro out and Moore at once made a move toward the stranger.

The latter observed Moore making in his direction, and, without a word, he sped in the direction of the Brooklyn pasture, Moore following and firing several shots at him.

In a few minutes a half hundred white men, including Chief of Police Miller, Constable Dannenhauer, Patrolman Keegan and several special officers, all well-armed, joined in the chase, but in the darkness the Negro escaped.

Just as the pursuing party reached town again, two of the residents of Lafayette Avenue, Peter Leson and Robert Henning, reported that they had just chased and shot at a Negro, who had been seen in the yard of the former's house.

They were positive the Negro had not escaped from the square.

Their report was enough to set the appetite of the crowd on edge, and the square was quickly surrounded, while several dozens of men, armed with lanterns and revolvers, made a search of every yard and under every house in the square.

No Negro was found.

The crowd of armed men was constantly swelling, and at 10 o'clock it had reached the proportions of a small army.

At 10:30 o'clock an outbound freight train is due to pass through Gretna on the Texas and Pacific Road, and the crowd, believing that Captain Day's slayer might be aboard one of the cars attempting to leave the scene of his crime, resolved to inspect the train.

As the train stopped at the Madison Street crossing the engineer was requested to pull very slowly through the town, in order that the trucks of the cars might be examined.

There was a string of armed men on each side of the railroad track and in a few moments a Negro was espied riding between two cars.

A half dozen weapons were pointed at him and he was ordered to come out.

He sprang out with alacrity and was pounced upon almost before he reached the ground.

Robert Moore grabbed him and pushed an ugly-looking Derringer under his nose and the Negro threw up both hands.

Constable Dannenhauer and Patrolman Keegan took charge of him and hustled him off to jail, where he was locked up.

The Negro does not at all resemble Robert Charles, but it was best for his sake that he was placed under lock and key.

The crowd was not in a humor to let any Negro pass muster last night.

The prisoner gave his name as Luke Wallace.

But now came the real excitement.

The train had slowed down almost to a standstill, in the very heart of town.

Somebody shouted: "There he goes, on top of the train!"

And sure enough, somebody was going.

It was a Negro, too, and he was making a bee-line for the front end of the train.

A veritable shower of bullets, shot and rifle balls greeted the flying form, but on it sped.

The locomotive had stopped in the middle of the square between La voisier and Newton Streets, and the Negro, flying with the speed of the wind along the top of the cars, reached the first car of the train and jumped to the tender and then into the cab.

As he did several white men standing at the locomotive made a rush into the cab.

The Negro sprang swiftly out of the other side, on to the sidewalk.

But there were several more men, and as he realized that he was rushing right into their arms he made a spring to leap over the fence of Mrs. Linden's home, on the wood side of the track.

Before the Negro got to the top one white man had hold of his legs, while another rushed up, pistol in hand.

The man who was holding the darkey's legs was jostled out of the way and the man with the pistol, standing directly beneath the Negro, sent two bullets at him.

There was a wild scramble, and the vision of a fleeing form in the Linden yard, but that was the last seen of the black man.

The yard was entered and searched, and neighboring yards were also searched, but not even the trace of blood was found.

It is almost impossible to believe that the Negro was not wounded, for the man who fired at him held the pistol almost against the Negro's body.

The shots brought out almost everybody--white--in town, and though there was nothing to show for the exciting work, except the arrest of the Negro, who doesn't answer the description of the man wanted, Gretna's male population had its little fan and felt amply repaid for all the trouble it was put to, and all the ammunition it wasted.