Little Black Girl Lost

The riot started on Main Street at 9:30 that same night. It was nearly a hundred degrees, and tempers flared within the white community, aided by Joseph King, Richard Goode’s fiery acolyte, who learned of the piece in the Raven when a Negro tried to explain that Rahim Muhammad didn’t speak for all Negroes in the parish. King convinced Whites to join his cause to right the wrong perpetrated by the black heathens, who were just waiting for an opportunity like this to rape their wives and daughters. His passionate lies led even the decent white men and women, along with their children, to join the volatile mob.

Nearly five thousand Whites armed with rifles, knives, clubs, and torches swarmed into Sable Parish and completely plundered it, hanging men, women, and children, who weren’t prepared for the assault. The rampage went on for nearly three hours and fueled their ever-growing thirst for blood. Having conquered Sable with relatively no resistance, they proceeded on to Baroque Parish, where they planned to sack the town the way the Romans demolished their enemies.

From nearly a mile away, the black citizenry of Baroque Parish could hear horns and a cacophony of endless, mindless banter. The angry mob started the riot by throwing a brick through the window of Philip Collins’ barbershop, and the looting began. From every quarter, shattered glass could be heard. Then from the rooftops, shots rang out and Whites began to fall to the ground, their bodies having been pierced by bullets. Pow! Pow! Pow! They took cover and returned fire. The shooting went on until the black citizens ran out of bullets. That was when the pillaging went into overdrive.

The wrathful mob looted Dennis Edwards’ clothing store, Addison’s bakery, the Baroque Parish Bank, the grocer, restaurants, and anything else in sight. They hanged the captured men on light poles and raped the women—even the little girls. It was when they reached the Savoy and saw the mixed couples that they decided to torch the community for vengeance.

Richard Simmons and his employees did their best to defend the historic building, but in the end, there were just too many of them, even though many would-be assailants had been wounded or killed. Simmons was forced to watch the Savoy burn to the ground and witness Trudy’s rape before they tied him to a telephone pole and set him on fire. White men, women, and children watched him burn alive, listening to his gut-wrenching screams as if his death was a delectable treat.

From there, they went to the Raven and destroyed the printing presses before setting it ablaze. Growing ever confident, they proceeded to the library where Reverend Staples, wearing his clergy garb, sat on the concrete steps waiting for them. When they approached him, he stood up and said, “Men and women of New Orleans, fear God! Take your children home! This is madness! Surely you won’t destroy this building. It is rich in culture and serves as our only means of history. Please, leave us our library and our school, lest we perish as a people.”

“That’s the idea, you dumb nigger,” Joseph King shouted from the massive crowd as he fired his rifle. Reverend Staples looked surprised when the bullet pierced his forehead. He dropped to his knees and fell face forward on the hot concrete. “Come on, boys!” King shouted. “Let’s burn the school too.”