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    Last Lynching On Mount Oread
    Last Lynching On Mount Oread
    Last Lynching On Mount Oread
    Ebook74 pages46 minutes

    Last Lynching On Mount Oread

    By Napoleon Crews

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    About this ebook

    In 1890 Lawrence, Kansas, Negroes suffered widespread discrimination and segregation. Even the University of Kansas, built on Mount Oread, considered them incapable of learning more than rudimentary subjects such as the days of the week, months of the year, and they were required to sit in the back of the classroom. One Negro student overcame impossible odds and became the first black man to be admitted to the law school, but he failed to escape the noose of a lynch rope, cutting his college career short. This tale details the universitiy's attempt to cover up the lynching, and the efforts of the city's only Negro police officer to bring the lynchers to justice.

    The real Sam Jeans, Negro, was recruited for the Lawrence Police Department, and later rose to the position of assistant chief of police. The only words written about Sam and his great accomplishments were that he was fearless in danger, showed good police judgment, and knew how to get along with the public. This tale portrays how it might have been for Sam as he overcame the great challenges on the path to success.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNapoleon Crews
    Release dateFeb 28, 2015
    ISBN9781311351845
    Last Lynching On Mount Oread
    Author

    Napoleon Crews

    Napoleon Crews began writing his first manuscript, for publication, in 1990. He was told often throughout his life, that he had a special way with words and empathy. The gift of writing culminated in Napoleon penning 9 completed manuscripts, some of which are short stories and others are longer novel-length works. In addition, he has written and produced 3 dramatic plays of an historical bent. Unable to find a national publisher for other of his works, Napoleon self-published and distributed them throughout the Midwest, where they have been popular. The driving force behind the first published manuscript, The Emancipation of Nate Bynum, was Napoleon’s desire to tell the unknown stories about the integral part that Blacks played in the American Civil War and the Wild West, and to right the wrongs of early historical writers who depicted Blacks, women, and other minorities as inept, weak-minded, and inferior to their white counterparts. Napoleon poured his experience as a cowboy, rodeo team roper, private investigator, martial artist, bodyguard, and trial lawyer into the building of his characters. He used family legends and oral and written history to form his plots. When he describes the way a horse moves, a steer bolts, or a punch is thrown, he’s rode the move, headed off the bolt, and threw the punch. His experience as a practicing trial lawyer is used to craft the many legal and ethical dilemmas in which his characters find themselves. Napoleon resides with his wife and family in Lawrence, Kansas, the seed-bed in which the buddings of the American Civil War were sewn. He still practices law 50 to 60 hours per week, and many of his nights are reserved for writing and polishing his manuscripts with a view for future publication.

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      Book preview

      Last Lynching On Mount Oread - Napoleon Crews

      LAST LYNCHING ON MOUNT OREAD

      By Napoleon Crews

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2004 Napoleon Crews

      Thursday, 9:38 P.M., 1890

      A frantic pounding on the door startled Lawrence Police Chief Maurice Monroe out of a peaceful snooze in his easy chair. The lamp on the mahogany, end table still bathed the living room in golden light, and the mantle clock across the way displayed 9:38 p.m. Late night knocks most times meant someone important had been murdered, or someone prominent sought to avoid arrest for some crime by pleading to Monroe first. The knocker again rapped hard, rattling the door glass. Monroe shoved himself up out of the chair.

      Quit banging! Monroe said. I’m coming!

      He jerked open the door. A thin, nervous, little man in a dark suit stood in the cold, spring drizzle that was not uncommon for this time of the year in north central Kansas. The carriage that brought the man was long, black, expensive, and owned by the university.

      What do you want? Monroe asked.

      Chancellor Snowdon requests that you come to the university at once, the man said.

      Monroe looked past the man at the drizzle. I’m not getting out in all that tonight. He’ll have to wait until morning.

      I’m afraid it can’t wait, sir. The chancellor told me to give you this letter if you refused to come straight away.

      The messenger handed Monroe a damp, sealed envelope. Monroe tore off one end and moved into the living room near the light. As his eyes trailed down the page, the hair rose on the back of his neck.

      I’ll get my raincoat and be along in ten minutes, Monroe said.

      The messenger quickly left the porch. Monroe grabbed his raincoat from the hall-tree behind the door and hurried outside to the barn. He harnessed his fastest team of horses to the buckboard, climbed onto the seat and flicked the whip over their round rumps. The startled steeds bolted from the barn, and soon the buckboard rattled and bounced up the rutted road toward the university buildings at the top of Mount Oread.

      A half moon moved in and out of the dark clouds and made the bumps and occasional shifts in the road hard to navigate. Most of the time, Monroe had to rely on the horses’ night vision to find the way up the road, and every once in awhile, the buckboard would hit a deep rut that jarred his teeth. Before long, the two winded horses lumbered to a stop in front of Fraser Hall, an ornate four-story Victorian structure, fit for the Queen of England, which housed the university’s administration.

      Monroe stepped from the buckboard and climbed the wet cement steps to the door. Once he was inside the building, he strode quickly to the wide stairway at the center and skipped every other step on the way up to the fourth floor. At the top of the stairs, he stopped for a long breather, and then he walked down the hall and entered the door to the chancellor’s offices. A wide, dimly-lighted hallway, studded with a half dozen desks and flanked by a bank of individual offices was where the chancellor and his staff did their work.

      A long-legged, young woman, wearing a forest green taffeta dress with lace on the neck and sleeves, strode toward him from the back office area.

      Chancellor Snowdon will be with you momentarily, sir, the young woman said.

      Monroe nodded and then removed the chancellor’s folded letter from his pocket and reread it.

      He shook his head in dismay for he always knew it was a matter of time until something like this happened. A political nightmare would surely erupt, and he was not looking forward to the finger pointing, blame-shifting, and bloodshed.

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