Death of the Kingfish!

By Richard Briley III

First published in 1960, this book by former newspaperman, author and Louisianan native, Richard Briley III, deals with the untimely demise of Huey Long, aka “The Kingfish,” an American politician who served as the 40th governor of Louisiana (1928-1932) and as a member of the U.S. Senate from 1932 until his death by assassination in 1935.

A Democrat, “The Kingfish” was an outspoken populist who denounced the wealthy and the banks and called for a “Share Our Wealth” program. As the political leader of the state, he commanded wide networks of supporters and was willing to take forceful action. He established the long-term political prominence of the Long family.

Long’s Share Our Wealth plan was established in 1934 under the motto “Every Man a King.” It proposed new wealth redistribution measures in the form of a net asset tax on corporations and individuals to curb the poverty and homelessness endemic nationwide during the Great Depression. To stimulate the economy, Long advocated federal spending on public works, schools and colleges, and old age pensions. He was an ardent critic of the policies of the Federal Reserve System.

Under Long’s leadership, hospitals and educational institutions were expanded, a system of charity hospitals was set up that provided health care for the poor, massive highway construction and free bridges brought an end to rural isolation, and free textbooks were provided for schoolchildren. He remains a controversial figure in Louisiana history, with critics and supporters debating whether or not he could have potentially become a dictator or was a demagogue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Papamoa Press
• Release date: Jul 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781787207431

Richard Briley III

Richard Briley III (September 14, 1893 - December 18, 1966) was an American newspaperman and writer. Born in Saint Maurice, Winn Parish, Louisiana, he began his career as a reporter on Chicago and Detroit newspapers before turning to freelancing for newspapers and magazines. While in Detroit and Chicago, he wrote under the Federal Writers Program and was chief writer in preparing a guide for the State of Michigan. He also was a radio script writer there. He was drafted in World War II defense work writing technical specifications. Later in Denver, Colorado, he was editor of Western Voice, a religious weekly. In Tulsa, Oklahoma, he wrote radio scripts for Evangelist Billy James Hargis and was a syndicated contributor to the Salvation Army Magazine “Warcry”. In later years, Briley turned to the historical lore of Central Louisiana, publishing a paperback guide of Central Louisiana titled Briley’s Cenla Guide (1960). This was followed with his account of the activities of the West and Kimbrell Clan, a band accused of outlawism during Reconstruction days, titled Nightriders (1962). He died in Winnfield, Winn Parish, Louisiana in 1966 at the age of 73.

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Text originally published in 1960 under the same title.

© Papamoa Press 2017, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

DEATH OF THE KINGFISH!

BY

RICHARD BRILEY, III

Drawings by Author

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 5

FOREWORD 7

CHAPTER I 9

CHAPTER II 23

CHAPTER III 33

CHAPTER IV 43

CHAPTER V 51

CHAPTER VI 62

CHAPTER VII 69

CHAPTER VIII 76

CHAPTER IX 79

CHAPTER X 89

CHAPTER XI 94

CHAPTER XII 100

CHAPTER XIII 106

CHAPTER XIV 111

CHAPTER XV 118

CHAPTER XVI 125

CHAPTER XVII 129

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 135

DEDICATION

To Loyd J. Harrison, Mayor of Montgomery, fabulous historian of Central Louisiana.

FOREWORD

As a newsman and cartoonist, this writer would not be true to the craft if I did not search out the facts and print them as they are in this case, any case for that matter. The truth had to come out sooner or later, irrespective of the opposition or whom it might affect. I have done my dead level best to be objective, fair, honest and conservative in presenting the various phases of the affair throughout. Even so the story is, in places, decidedly shocking; in others probably revolting and unbelievable, yet if ingenuity, research and midnight oil can unearth the truth in a case of this kind after 24 years, I have spaded it up in this extended effort.

In a way the story is ephemerally outlined in the eight lines of doggerel at the at the head of this first chapter, A Country Boy And The Mob! It would be worthwhile to turn the page and read these lines carefully and meditate on the ugly, shapeless word mob, as it is one of the most important terms in the book. The discerning reader well may ask: "Was there any particular mob involved in this great struggle for power in Louisiana at that time?" There was indeed—the original, the one and only mob deserving of the name—THE mob of Cicero and Chicago, Illinois, which came in to help temporarily—or so Huey thought—but decided to remain indefinitely and exploit the underworld opportunities of the state.

The presence of the mob changed Huey’s temperament, his outlook, his hopes and almost his personality as he remained seven years, a man with a gun at his head. Yet the dire predicament he found himself in, altered none of his views on social, economic and political reforms, nor did it change his attitude toward the great Hebrew people, whom, he reflected, had been without a nation of their own for more than 1,900 years.

In his estimation the Jews had been given a special place in the world and the religious scheme of things, endowed with talents, power and ingenuity far above other people, to carry out a purpose hidden in the mind of the Supernatural. Therefore, Huey desired their friendship, was delighted to have them around and sought to learn all he could about their financial, business and promotional methods.

Probably no Gentile in America rejoiced more than Huey over the signing of Balfour Pact which ultimately opened the door to the Jews in their homeland. Few American leaders supported the Zionists more fervently than Huey in the succeeding years. For he knew that as the Gentile powers destroyed themselves in worldwide wars a new and more vital civilization, centering in Palestine, would rise in the Middle East.

Had he lived he would have been first to challenge modern anti-Semitism in Europe and at home, first to notice that with the downgrading of Stalin, Moscow was being Natzified by the foreign scientists and technicians brought into the country for industrial development. He would have been first to foresee that the success of these scientists in space and nuclear work would swiftly lead to the Natzification of the Soviet Union and Red China, and the alchemy of Anti-Semitism would unite these powers with all Germany, all Scandinavia and most of the Moslem countries in an all-out drive against the Israeli and the Jews of the world. And he would have been capable of lifting an effective voice against such a devilish menace. As it is we no longer have any outstanding leader in this field of battle and it behooves all true Christians, all lovers of liberty and fair play to arm themselves with the best available weapons and enter the fight without anyone in the lead.

Let every American that still calls himself a man, who still can put on his pants, one leg at a time, step forward and take a stand in this matter. And if there be any women who admire men of this type, let them come forward and do their share. Ye scribes and artists, ye slaves from the state and city sides, ye toilers of the magic lanterns and ye glorious lotus eaters of video come in with us and help us to form a Huey Long brigade against intolerance and raise funds to fight this ghastly bigotry against God’s Chosen People. Everyone who enjoys a fight with no holds barred is welcome.

Richard Briley, III

September 14, 1959

CHAPTER I

A COUNTRY BOY AND THE MOB

He asked for a job

They gave him the gate,

He turned to the mob,

They gave him the state!

He asked for peace,

They gave him strife,

He sought surcease,

They took his life!

Huey Long, said the man knowingly, was shot by one of his own men. The intruder’s bullet didn’t touch him: it went to one side...

Two shots were fired by the assassin, I interposed. On that point the record seems quite clear.

The old man before me, a leader of Huey Long’s foes, frowned and shook a dissenting head.

The bullet intended for Long, he retorted peevishly, went a little to one side. Someone tipped the intruder’s arm. Huey then was shot by a member of his own bodyguard!

I rummaged into a briefcase filled with research and came up with a pamphlet carrying a brief account of Huey’s assassination, illustrated with several official photographs. Turning the pages to a print of the death weapon I passed the publication over to this arch-foe of the late Kingfish.

According to the small print under the halftone cut, this was a picture of the foreign-made automatic brought to the state capitol by the waiting killer. Around it were six shells or cartridges taken from the gun by the coroner and held in a unit as an exhibit in the case. Five of these cartridges, removed from the clip, were loaded, but one—the sixth—which came from the gun’s barrel, had been exploded but had remained in the automatic when the mechanism was jammed. In a similar exhibit composed of articles found on the dead man’s body, was another cartridge fired at the time of the killing, which had been ejected and thrown backward to lodge in the assassin’s coat pocket. Thus in accounting for the seven rounds of ammunition required to fill the gun and clip, it was found that two of these cartridges had been emptied on the death scene. Those two bullets were aimed at the body of Huey P. Long according to the data contained in this pamphlet.

This information only vexed my aged host all the more. He was convinced his theory was right, and nothing anyone could say to the contrary would change his point of view. A scowl darkened his aged face and his hand was unsteady as he thrust the publication back at me. That, he cried bitterly, is not the way I heard the story. And I was here all the time, active in politics.

The first bullet was aimed at Huey’s heart, I answered from information contained in the pamphlet. Judge John B. Fournet deflected the gun and caused the shot to go into Huey’s abdomen. Murphy Roden, of the bodyguard, then wrestled with the intruder and pushed the nose of the automatic to one side, saving the Kingfish from a second direct hit. The gun jammed after this and could do no further harm!

The scowl on the face of my host deepened as he fumed angrily.

That’s the way they tell it. But they’re all a bunch of crooks and no dependence can be placed in their word. I hope soon to raise a propaganda fund of our own and destroy Longism in the state forever!

Confronted by such hatred, such venom, one might think the Kingfish had only recently been assassinated and Richard Leche had not yet been elected governor or served a term in prison. Yet the killing of Huey was more than twenty years in the turbulent past.

Long was no statesman as his henchmen try to make out, the old man concluded. On the contrary he was a rabble-rouser and the crookedest politician this country ever produced. And most of his changes and innovations in the state were harmful both to business and constitutional government. Some of his political crookedness—his double-dealing—caused his own hirelings to get rid of him!

In the capacity of private investigator, afterward, I went about the state testing public opinion on the subject of this controversy, talking to citizens on all levels from hayseeds in the backwoods to cliff-dwellers in big cities who lived in plush luxury provided by oil, cotton, timber and dirty politics. To my surprise I found the majority of the common people—the general public—was inclined to agree with the conclusion of the aged politician: that Huey had been mortally wounded by one of his own men!

Ultimately the opinion of an average citizen picked at random in Shreveport—a member of the public who had to be roused if his support was secured—provided a typical view of the man in the street on the subject. He said:

Huey was a great man, no doubt about it. He did much good in the state, but from what I read and heard in those days, he had a bunch of crooks around him and it seems likely he was killed by one of his own guards!

Was the name of any guard mentioned specifically in the general talk?

Yeah...Joe Messina! Once in a while, Murphy Roden!

There it was—the general consensus of the people spelled out in a common man’s language! Whatever the facts might be, the majority of average citizens, friends indeed as well as foes, believed Huey had been slain by one of his own hired guns! Such sentiment soon would become universal among the common people and with so much force behind it, this version would eventually be accepted as the true one, and history would inform future generations Huey Long was a victim of treachery in the ranks of his own organization.

Yet the records of the coroner’s office, the claims and propaganda of the Longites, and vital statistics of the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation told an entirely different story.

What then, was the truth of the matter? How could the facts—even in outline—be uncovered? Who, and what, to believe in the face of such conviction and belligerency on both sides? Such were some of the questions which confronted every reporter who, in this late period, sought to determine the truth in the sensational case and write the death story as it was.

After a brief survey of the state, sampling public sentiment wherever I went, after being all things to all people and making the acquaintance of leaders in both camps, I had the answer to one of my questions: where should a basic investigation into the affair be started? Anyone delving into the matter, having any hope of success, should, I saw clearly, go back into the hill country among Huey’s own people and begin there where this phenomenon of politics had first exercised his peculiar talents.

I was a native of Winn Parish and had known the Longs in boyhood, though I had been away two decades, and my first move was to dispatch a letter to Julius Long, firstborn of the four brothers, and outline my plan for a book on Huey’s life and death and ask for his help. It was the acumen of Julius coupled with the brashness and rabble-rousing ability of Huey, I well knew, that had started young Long unto politics with such pageantry and spectacular success. Without the help of Julius the Kingfish might never have evolved from the status of a local topwater into the political shark he eventually became. Therefore, this elder brother, with his inside knowledge, could aid me immeasurably in all phases of the case, if he would take the time to do so; and since I was seeking to clear away a fog of error and misconception in the death of his famous brother, and turn a flood-light of truth onto the matter, it seemed probable Julius would be willing to cooperate to the fullest extent. To my astonishment, however, a bristling note of refusal, typed by the gentleman himself, buzzed back in an early mail saying, in part:

I will have no part in building up any political character in this country with a view of making a hero of him. What was done for the late Franklin D. Roosevelt is an example of what I mean!

Despite this unexpected rebuff, I decided to continue my investigation in this direction and to talk to all members of the family as much as their peculiar temperament would permit.

Going to Pineville I contacted Dr. George Shannon Long, a dentist, the second son of the numerous Long family. Shan, as we called him, was a grown man when I was a child around Winnfield, and my father, a local contractor, had given him a job in a building crew after his graduation from high school. He was more like Huey than any of the other brothers, having more of that bull-dog tenacity, that moodiness and garrulity which set the Kingfish apart from contemporary politicians. Shan was married to the beautiful Jewell Tyson Long a comparatively young woman, under whose influence he made one of the best congressmen the Eighth Louisiana District has had thus far.

You want to see Harley Bozeman in Winnfield, Shan finally said when I had explained the purpose of my visit. He was Huey’s best friend—in boyhood and politics. He knows more concerning my brother and his career than any other person living.

Unlike Julius, Shan was eager to help with the book anyway he could, but he was out of the state during Huey’s spectacular plunge into politics and had no firsthand knowledge of his death and the plotting against him. For inside information and reliable leads in the case, he reiterated, I should look up Bozeman and camp on his trail.

The question of the killer’s identity, of course, was only one of a number of beguiling mysteries connected with this cause celebre of the 20th Century. For instance who had imported the .32 Belgian automatic with which the Kingfish had been shot? It was a killer’s gun, specially made without serial number, that could be used covertly for murder and yet not be traced! It had been smuggled into the United States obviously for the purpose of waylaying Long and killing him somewhere in secret. Was this the work of the intruder? The chap whose body was riddled by bullets on that fatal night in the state capitol? It was not likely, as he made his attack in the open, not in secret. The weapon was, in all probability, given to him by some conspirator who imported it or had it brought in for the purpose of murder. This arch-enemy of Long—whoever he was—probably intended to use it secretly himself, but passed it along to the intruder when he learned he was angry enough over his own grievances, to step out personally and gun Huey down in the open. He knew the automatic could not be traced and he had nothing to fear on that point; yet he had everything to gain if the little maneuver should prove successful. Who this conspirator might be and how and when the weapon was brought in were, of course, added mysteries, as baffling to everyone as the others.

Who ordered Huey’s casket ahead of time and had it waiting at Rabenhorst’s funeral home when he died was another intriguing question still being echoed in many parts of the state when the topic of Huey’s death was discussed. Newspapers of the day made quite an ado over the fact a fine copper casket fashioned to Huey’s measurements was ordered by someone more than a day beforehand; that this was so well-timed the coffin arrived at the funeral establishment only a few hours before the Kingfish succumbed at the Lady of the Lake Sanitarium and its use became a legal necessity. This clearly indicated, they said editorially, Huey had died as a result of an elaborate conspiracy in which the smallest details were worked out well in advance of the shooting. Foes of the Kingfish took up the issue and charged that the Longites, having plotted the assassination themselves, had secretly purchased the casket and ordered it delivered at the time and place it would be needed, etc. Without trying to explain how all this could have been worked out, they produced records supposedly from the casket company, to show the purchase had been made by Long’s adherents, that delivery was set at a certain time in future days, and that the treasurer, Seymour Weiss, had promised to pay the firm $5,000 to bind the bargain!

On the other hand the Long forces, offering no direct answer, loudly charged that the political faction known as the Square Deal League, had been plotting many months against the life of the Kingfish, that Sen. Long was familiar with every detail of this conspiracy and had spoken of it at length, on the senate floor, when the Square Dealers met at the De Soto in New Orleans to devise ways and means for his ultimate disposal. Every phase of the murder was planned there in this manner, right down to smallest specific angle. Thus the tug-of-war went on, with each group bitterly charging the other with criminal activities in the affair, but with neither side being able to bring forth positive proof of the other’s guilt.

Still another mystifying question was: what had become of the coroner’s report on the death of the intruder which was lost in the office of District Attorney John Fred Odom of East Baton Rouge Parish? On the testimony of 22 witnesses this report not only put the finger on the killer of Huey Long but also described minutely every event that led up to the shooting. Shortly after the coroner’s hearing, the official report disappeared from Mr. Odom’s safe and according to the press was never seen afterward, though an intensive search for the document was made at the time. Charges and counter charges flew like missiles around the old parish courthouse. The Long people howled mightily that the official record incriminated Odom