James Stanley Jones Vs the Klan: Love Is Eternal

By Ben A. Watford

The book begins during the late twenties and thirties. The book deals with two teenagers in a small village in Western North Carolina during the Jim Crow era. It is during the period when social contact between races is nonexistent, especially in rural America. Two individuals of different races find themselves drawn to each other. When one of them is murdered, the other is suspected. The mystery of the death and the resulting trial, fueled by hatred of the Klan, reaches the climax.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524652395

Ben A. Watford

Ben A. Watford received his Bachelor of Science Degree in Chemistry from Howard University in 1957 and his master’s degree from Tuskegee University in 1960. He taught chemistry at Smithtown High School in St. James, New York. He taught science techniques and elementary mathematics at Long Island University in the graduate education department as an associate professor. Born in Winton, North Carolina, he now lives in Fairfield Harbor near New Bern, North Carolina, with his wife Barbara. His published works include The Coming of the Comet, You Can’t Fall off the Floor, The Complete Book of Fussing and Nagging, A Man and A Mule, and A Man, A Mule, and A Gun. He is an active potter, making pottery on his potter’s wheel. He has had several one-man shows at art galleries in Eastern North Carolina. He is an avid golfer.

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2016 Ben A. Watford. All rights reserved.

Cover Design: Artist Sandy Hall

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/07/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-5240-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-5239-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016919714

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Wellington, A Village Near Snake Mountain

The Wellington Hospital And Its Patients

James Stanley Jones

Miss Jane, Mary Ellen, And The Town Restaurant

Mary Ellen And The Restaurant

The Return Of James Stanley Jones

James And The Shed

Reverend Johnson And Mary Ellen

The Dinner Guest

The University In Canada

The College Applications

The Conversation Concerning James Stanley Jones

The End Of The School Year

The Assembly At The Colored School

Mary Ellen Plans A Trip To The River

Tragedy At The River

The Hopeless Relationship And The Sheriff Of Wellington

A Visit With Mae

Two Boys And Their Fishing Poles

Mary Ellen’s Funeral

A Step-Up For The District Attorney

The Incident At The Jail

The Klan’s Plot

David Davis And The Deputy Sheriff

Encounter At The Jail

Bubba ’S Help

A Call For Help

The Return Of The Washington Bureau Of Investigation Chief To Wellington

Washington Bureau Chief And Sheriff Downs

Bubba And The Federal Marshals

The Search For James

The Hospital In Raleigh

The Trial And A Travesty Of Justice

A Court Of Law Southern Style

The Trial Of One James Stanley Jones Begins

The Trial Continues

The Case As Presented By The Defense Attorney

Miss Jane And Her Recollections Concerning One James Stanley Jones

Miss Jane Takes The Stand

The Role Of The Ku Klux Klan

The Action Taken By The Klan

Reverend Wainwright Johnson And The Judge

The Conference In The Judge’s Chambers

The Closing Argument Of The District Attorney

The Legally Adopted Son

A Dinner For Some Special Guests

The Sheriff And The Judge

The Defense Makes Its Case

The Deliberations Of The Jury

An Appointment With The Judge

The Sentencing Of James Stanley Jones

A Visit To The Jail

The Incarceration

The Warden And Sheriff Downs

The Visitors

The Petition

The Prison

The University Of Canada

The Klan And The Called Meeting

Big Joe And The Kite

The Meeting Of The Washington Bureau Chief

Laundry Duty

Some Special Guests

The Confrontation

The End Of Big Joe

Sheriff Down’s Plan

The Chain Gang

Prison Talk

C.a. Winters Leaves The Hospital

C.a. Winters’ S Last Request

The Jones Family And The Graduation Ceremony

The Party After The Ceremony

The Request For The Minister And The Sheriff

The Confession

The Manse And Reverend Diggs

The Archaeological Dig

An Adventure For The Boy Scouts

The Metal Box

Sheriff And The Metal Cutters

The Weekly Wellington Journal

Decision Making Time

The Meeting With The Former Bureau Chief

The Trip From Florida

Former Sheriff Downs And The North Carolina Bureau Of Investigation

The Team Meets

The Convoy

The Gruesome Work

Cataloguing The Evidence

Chief Sherman And His Sister

Riverdale

The New District Attorney

The Petition

The Meeting

Letter To The President

The Celebration

James Stanley Jones Goes To Wellington

The Picnic

Welcome Home Doctor James Stanley Jones

James Returns Home

The Parade

End Of The Picnic

The Wrongful Conviction Lawsuit

Visit To The Gravesite

To my wife Barbara

A very special and unique

Individual and to the fond memories of my daughter

Dr. Becky Vargo {1955-2015}

WELLINGTON, A VILLAGE NEAR SNAKE MOUNTAIN

The sky was what Carolinians call Carolina blue, no clouds, no hurricanes, and in the town of Wellington, North Carolina, the residents were at peace with themselves. The residents of this part of the state knew that this was not important because given two hours the weather could change. After all, this was North Carolina. Most people realized that the hurricane season was about six months away and they prayed that they would hit another part of the state and not move inland across the western part of the state. The town of Wellington was located in the western part of the state and rarely did hurricanes pass their way, but it could happen and had happened in the past. The town of Wellington had about seven hundred residents; most worked at the wood mill located on the river running past the town. There were four churches in the town, including the New Hope Baptist church and the Wellington Church of God, both white churches. The New Hope Baptist Church was the largest. The African Methodist Episcopal Zion church and the Saint Johns Baptist church served the colored residents of the town and were the smaller and the poorer of the four churches. Occasionally they would combine services in a show of friendship and Christian brotherhood. However, like most of the South, segregation reached its zenith at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning. The town contained five business establishments: a gas station, grocery store, a general hardware store run by Mack Jenkins, a restaurant run by one Miss Jane Smithfield, and a bank. The residents were mostly poor and the colored section just across the railroad tracks boasted being the poorest. There were some colored homes intermingled in the white section of Wellington. In the South whites don’t care how close colored get as long as they don’t get too high, unlike the North, which doesn’t care how high colored get as long as they don’t get too close.

The colored residents, were proud of their high school, which boasted the state’s colored championship basketball team for eight of the past ten years. Everyone in the town, both colored and white, turned out for the Friday night games whenever the team played on its home court and those colored who could afford it followed the team on the road. The white team was not quite as successful but that did not matter to the residents. The colored team placed them on the map of North Carolina and all residents attended the colored games. There was a special section for white residents set aside in the gymnasium of the colored school. This was just a section with a rope that separated the colored from the whites in attendance at the game. No one seemed to mind or notice this because it was the law of the land. Jim Crow laws permeated the south and Wellington was no exception.

The success of the team was due primarily to one family, the Sullivans who had produced four sons, all of them almost seven feet tall. Most of them went on to play professional basketball after a stint in college. It was their income that made the Sullivans able to live a comfortable life in Wellington. The first thing that the eldest Sullivan son did after he became a professional basketball player was to buy his family a home so that they could move out of the shack they lived in. The new house boasted indoor plumbing, electric lights, and one of those newfangled frigidaire’s, a rarity in the town. Most of the white homes and colored homes still used ice boxes.

THE WELLINGTON HOSPITAL AND ITS PATIENTS

The town of Wellington had a small hospital located on the western part of the town and the residents were proud of the facility even though most hoped that they would never need its service. There were some in the town who preferred the service of the undertaker over that provided by the hospital. They felt that the hospital was a place to die and most preferred to die in their own homes.

The hospital was located on the outskirts of the small town of Wellington adjacent to the New Hope Baptist Church. The town itself was located in the foothills of the Snake Mountains, part of the Appalachian Mountain chain.

The hospital was built around the turn of the century. It was a place for the rustic townspeople to go when all home remedies failed and death was the only option. It was small, dingy, and dark. A staff of two doctors and five nurses maintained the facility. Its small parking lot was larger than the building, which at present housed three patients. A mother expecting a child at any minute, a young boy who had fallen from a tree with a broken arm and some internal injuries, and an old man, C. A. Winters, who was at death’s door, about to knock and enter.

Few of the residents of the small town ever used the hospital preferring to die around familiar faces. Most residents did not have the resources to pay for the services rendered by the facility anyway. Many of the residents of Wellington went through their entire lives without ever seeing a doctor or going to a hospital. The residents depended upon home remedies, which in many ways was superior to the medical treatment supplied by the doctors at the hospital. Most residents, especially the colored and the poor whites, used those medical remedies handed down by word of mouth and transferred from generation to generation for most of their medical needs. There were always the elders in the community that supplied herbs and home remedies for most common diseases so doctors and the hospital were seldom used.

In room number three was the old man, C. A. Winters, eighty-eight years of age, near the end of his life span. C. A. Winters was dying and he knew it. His weight was down from one-hundred-eighty to ninety pounds and his six-foot frame appeared to be just a sack of bones. He would be eighty-nine if he could live to see his next birthday about nine months away. His chances of surviving the next three weeks were slim to none and the hospital staff knew this. The hospital staff did their best to make his last days comfortable and without pain. He was a complainer and all he wanted was to go home, to be left alone to die in his own bed and he told all of the medical personal his wishes whenever they entered his room. His request to return home was laced with many words not for polite conversation. The staff ignored his chastisement and just did what they could to accommodate him; nothing that they could do for him could placate him. At home C.A. had his stash of corn whiskey and he was willing to die to get one quart of it. C. A. Winters was one patient that most of the staff at the hospital avoided if they possibly could.

His wife of fifty-five years had insisted that he be brought to the hospital over his objections. One year before, he had been diagnosed with cancer. The doctors never told him where it was located and he really did not care to know. When he became too weak to even eat or go to the bathroom he was put in his old Ford Model A and driven to the Wellington Medical Center. His wife had insisted over all of his complaints and objections and he went kicking and screaming all the way there. He was taken to the hospital by his son after a request from his mother to help with the situation.

Why can’t I die at home in my own bed?

Ellen, his wife of fifty-five years replied, At least they can feed you there and stop the pain that you are constantly complaining about.

C. A. Winters was not the kind of husband she had expected or wanted. Ellen had put up with his abuse and ill treatment since the first day they were married some fifty five years in the past. In reality, she would be pleased if he never returned home, at least she would no longer hear his cursing every second word and would not have to put up with his drinking bouts which started before breakfast and ended late at night. Her life with him had been a living hell and now it was finally about to end. She, being a devoutly Christian woman, hated herself for hoping that he would die but it would be better than putting up with his beatings, calling her foul names, and his being drunk ninety percent of the time.

Doctor Bailey entered the room, took C.A.’s pulse, and using his stethoscope checked his heart and took a long look at the monitor located across the room. He then adjusted the morphine drip and looked over at Ellen. He motioned her to the door and left the room with her. Ellen was a beautiful woman who had gorgeous long brown hair, an oversized nose, and green eyes.

In her youth she was considered beautiful. She wore a long pink dress, tennis shoes, and an apron. Her hair hung in a single braid almost to her waist. She looked as if she were just returning from the family farm and about to go out to pick a bucket of string beans. The townspeople never understood why she married C.A. Winters or what drove her to consent to marrying him. They had two children both of whom left as soon as they could around the age of fourteen because they could no longer put up with C. A. and his drinking, cursing, and his obnoxious attitude.

The doctor walked slowly down the hallway with Ellen following. When he was far enough away to insure that he would not be heard he turned to Ellen with a look of concern. She read from his expression that the concern was not for her husband but for her. Ellen looked at the doctor and said nothing and just waited for him to describe her husband’s condition.

The doctor said, There is nothing more that we can do for him. I think you should take him home. He has less that a week maybe two to live.

Due to his pain, the doctor, when he first entered the hospital placed him on a morphine drip. This was the time-honored method of mercy killing that all doctors use. Morphine induces respiratory depression and the patient simply goes to sleep without pain never to wake up. The morphine usually kills the patient within about two to three weeks depending upon the dosage and most doctors could predict with some degree of accuracy when the patient would die. The beauty in this form of mercy killing was that the patient dies with a smile on his/her face, no pain and it was perfectly legal. It was the legal method that doctors have used to put patients out of their misery since the drug came into wide-spread use. Only one other method was used by doctors as a form of mercy killing. Occasionally a doctor would take a patient off dialysis with the excuse that he was too weak to undergo the process, then the patient usually died within two or three days. Either method insures that the patient would be put out of their misery and the family could continue with their existence. Both are considered legal medical practices and administered by most in the medical profession.

The doctor continued, I think you should take him home. I will have one on my nurses show you how to increase the morphine drip as his pain increases. He has one week, maybe two at the most, to live and I think you should know this.

Ellen showed no outward reaction to the doctor’s words.

She simply nodded and said, Thank you doctor.

JAMES STANLEY JONES

James Stanley Jones would be eighteen years of age on his next birthday. Born in April of nineteen twenty-one just before the onset of the Great Depression, he was the tenth child born to James Stanley Jones, Sr. and Louise May Jones. The rundown shack that they called a house was across the railroad tracks in the predominately colored section of Wellington. Living through the years of the Great Depression had not be easy for the Jones family. His father made less than five dollars per week when he could find work.

James was five feet eight inches tall with a thick head of hair and classic Ethiopian facial features. His skin was dark brown and through some freak of nature he had a set of perfect teeth, slender nose, and a small mouth. The rest of the members of the black community who lived across the railroad tracks from the white section of the small village thought that he was handsome and would make an excellent preacher. The members of the colored community thought he was handsome because his facial features resembled those of white people except the color of his skin. Beauty standards for the colored community were based upon the perceptions of the white community and Negro or African features were not considered beautiful. Most black children of the period would prefer a white doll to a black doll placed under the Christmas tree as their choice of a Christmas toy. Most colored never realized that those Africans coming from Ethiopia and that region of Africa had features resembling those of European whites, and yet, their skin color was dark brown.

James was an excellent student and given the opportunity he could become anything in life that he wanted to be. Such was not the case. His mother and father, with a combined education of the second grade, saw no value in an education for their children and wondered why he would spend so much of his time reading and memorizing poems. They reasoned that they had survived without an education and an education was not necessary for their children. They could grow up and eke out a meager living and be happy with what life had to offer. Their philosophy of life, which neither could verbalize nor understand, was, the pleasures in life were not in the rewards but in the struggle for existence.

Six months into his senior year at the local high school his mother called him aside and told him it was time for him to leave. His expenses required for graduation were more than the family could afford and he had enough education, After all, he could read and write which most of the colored children in the small town could not do.

She explained to him that he would have to pack his few belongings and make his own way in life.

She finally stated, I will sign for you to join the army and you can send me an allotment out of your pay.

She continued, It will not cost you anything; the military will add to what you decide to send me. I will save your portion and keep it in a jar for you and you can have it at a later date.

James was wise enough to know that would not happen. All that he ever wanted was to finish high school, get a job, and earn enough money to enter some college, any college. His choice of professions was limited to the role models that he saw in his community. He had a choice of becoming an undertaker, teacher, or preacher. Those were the only role models in his limited view of the world. He decided to become a teacher, because they ate three meals each day, drove cars, lived in homes with electricity and indoor plumbing.

James said to himself, When I became an adult I will become a teacher.

He packed his few belongings and left. He had no idea of where he would sleep or what he would do for food and his parents showed no concern. He left and slept in the old baseball stand the first few nights and then decided that he would build a lean-to in the woods behind the colored school and use that as his place of residence while attending the last months of high school. He was determined that he would finish high school. He knew that he would not march with his graduating class, but then he had never gone to a prom or any other event that required special clothes or money.

He was confident that he could find enough food to sustain himself from the surrounding farms. The farmers always left small amounts of produce after the harvest. His only problem was how he could cook the food that he scavenged from the fields. Most he could eat without cooking and there was water from a nearby stream. He would survive and he would finish his education and find some way to get a college degree and become a teacher.

MISS JANE, MARY ELLEN, AND THE TOWN RESTAURANT

The town’s only restaurant was run by Miss Jane Smithfield and was the only such establishment in the town. Mary Ellen Johnson, one of the students at the local white high school, was the only employee that Jane Smithfield had to help run the business. Miss Jane did not make sufficient funds from the business to hire a full-time employee and Mary Ellen came to the restaurant after school on those days when she did not have cheerleader practice. When that occurred she reported as soon as cheerleader practice. was over and worked with Jane until closing time.

Mary Ellen worked as the waitress, dishwasher, cook, and any other tasks that needed to be done. The restaurant survived not because of the residents of the town because they rarely used the facility. The business continued to survive because the Trailways bus stopped by three time a day, on its way further south, with its hungry passengers. Very few of the locals used the restaurant, since most being very poor could not afford the cost of a meal there. Occasionally a few of them would drop by for a cup of coffee but they rarely spent more than a dime in the restaurant and Mary Ellen was pleased when the big spenders left a penny tip.

There was a window in the back of the restaurant for those colored patrons, riding in the back of the bus, who wanted to be served. They would have to wait until all the white patrons were served first. Since the bus only stopped for thirty minutes, most could not be served in that time frame. Most of the colored travelers avoided the window, preferring to eat out of their brown bags that most of them carried. Knowing conditions in the South, most black travelers throughout the South, sitting in the back of the bus, brought their lunch with them.

At least there was an outhouse in the back of the restaurant labeled Colored for those that wanted to use it. The outhouse was even equipped with a Sears catalog for the black patrons with a desire to use it.

Together, Mary Ellen and Miss Jane had made the restaurant business stay above water. Miss Jane at times thought about closing the facility but could not decide what she would do with her time if she did not have the business to operate and she enjoyed conversations with her patrons.

She was sure of one thing and she said that often to Mary Ellen. I make about a dollar an hour from this business but I really enjoy being my own boss. I never liked having others telling me what I could or could not do.

Mary Ellen went out of the back door of the restaurant to put the trash that she had collected from sweeping the floor in the garbage can. She saw a young colored boy about her own age of seventeen. He had the lid to the garbage can in one hand and was eating something with the other. When Mary Ellen first saw him she could not believe what she was seeing. Here was a young black boy, who looked to be the same age that she was, eating out of the garbage can. She had seen maggots in that can and could not believe that any rational person would be eating the leftover food in that garbage can.

She said, What are you doing?

Nothing Miss, I’m sorry.

The young boy turned and started to walk away.

She called to him and said, Wait a minute, are you hungry?

No ma’am.

Then why are you eating out of the garbage can?

I don’t know ma’am.

You wait right here and don’t run away, do you understand me?

Yes ma’am.

She went in the restaurant and came back a few minutes later with two biscuits wrapped in a paper napkin. She approached him and held the two biscuits out to him and he hesitated, not quite sure of what to do.

She said, Take these, I am not going to poison you.

He took the biscuits and started eating one and put the other in his pocket.

Mary Ellen said, What are you going to do with the other one?

I am going to save it for the morning, before I go to school.

You go to school?

Yes ma’am

Where do you live?

The young boy looked down at the ground and avoided looking at her and did not answer.

She repeated the question in a more forcible tone.

Where do you live?

He continued to look down as if she were not there and tears started to form in his eyes and run down his cheeks.

Mary Ellen had never in her life felt so sorry for another human being.

She said, You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, that’s your business. If you come around here at the same time tomorrow I will give you some more food.

He wiped the tears away from his cheeks with the back of his hand and said, I really thank you ma’am for the food.

My name is Mary Ellen Johnson, what is your name?

James Stanley Jones, ma’am.

Mary Ellen did not know what to say to put him at ease. She finally said, Please come back again. I think I can help with whatever problems you have, at the very least I can give you some food.

He said, Thank you ma’am.

James turned and slowly walked away; he never looked back.

Mary Ellen returned to the restaurant and told Miss Jane what had transpired. Miss Jane was moved by the circumstances and especially the way Mary Ellen related the event.

Miss Jane said, It is fine by me if you give him some food but I don’t think that he will return.

Mary Ellen was convinced that he would.

She said, Miss Jane, I was not mean to him, I was just shocked to see him eating out of that garbage can; I see maggots in there all the time.

Mary Ellen when people are hungry they eat whatever food they can find.

I suppose, but I would rather go hungry than eat garbage.

Child, you have never been hungry in your life. Try to put yourself in his place.

I sure hope he comes back.

MARY ELLEN AND THE RESTAURANT

Mary Ellen had worked at the restaurant since her tenth grade year as the only waitress and general helper. Now a senior at the local school, she was considering what college to attend and she wanted it to be as far from her little town of Wellington and the state of North Carolina as possible.

Mary Ellen even considered Europe, specifically France, but rejected the idea since she knew that her parents would not approve.

Mary Ellen had saved every cent that she had earned for her college fees, even though she knew that her parents could afford her college tuition.

Mary Ellen considered Miss Jane Smithfield, the owner, her friend and a mother figure. Miss Jane was thirty-five years of age and had run the restaurant for about ten years. She loved Mary Ellen and considered her the child that she never had. The two of them ran the business and had become best friends. Mary Ellen confided in her and explained all the problems that a seventeen year old had approaching adulthood. Miss Jane was a good listener and occasionally gave her advice on what it meant to become a young lady. They had long discussions about school, her cheerleader activities, her grades, and plans for the future. Mary Ellen planned to go to college and become a teacher like her mother. She also expressed a desire to have a large family, being the only child of the local Baptist minister, Reverend Wainwright Johnson and his wife Martha, of the New Hope Baptist Church, the largest white church in the Wellington community. Mary Ellen had longed to have at least another sister or brother but that was not the case. Many times she had asked her parents why she did not have other siblings but never received a satisfactory answer. She finally gave up and just became the special person that her parents had assured her that she was. Being the daughter of the local minister of the New Hope Baptist church, and an only child, she was treated like royalty by all of the members of the congregation. At first her parents were not pleased that she took the job at the restaurant but after many conversations with Miss Jane, they finally agreed to the situation and Mary Ellen had been allowed her freedom to make this decision concerning her life. They, her parents, simply considered it a part of growing up and becoming independent.

THE RETURN OF JAMES STANLEY JONES

The following day Mary Ellen approached with anticipation, hoping that the young boy would return. As soon as she arrived at work, after school, she prepared a small paper plate containing two biscuits and collard greens. She included a fork and wrapped the plate with one of the restaurant’s paper napkins and waited.

Jane saw the look of concern on her face and said, Why don’t you take that plate of food and go outside and wait for him? We have no customers and I can handle things in here. Take your textbook and do your homework and let me handle things in here.

Are you sure?

Laughing, Miss Jane said, Child, get out of here before I change my mind.

Mary Ellen picked up her book Prose & Poetry of the English Language and the plate of food and went outside to wait. She was not sure that he would return but she was hoping that he would. She started reading the book and looked up and saw him coming around the corner of the restaurant.

She was so pleased to see him that she lost the page that she had been reading.

All that she could think to say was, I have some food for you.

Thank you ma’am.

Mary Ellen passed the plate of food to the young boy.

As he started eating she opened her book, found her lost page, and started reading. She was pleasantly surprised when he spoke to her for the first time without being asked a question.

He said. What are you reading ma’am?

It’s an assignment that I have to report on in class tomorrow.

It is a poem called, ‘Thanatopsis’, by William Cullen Bryant. have you ever heard of it?

He started quoting the poem.

"To him who in the love of Nature holds

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks

A various language; for his gayer hours

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile

And eloquence of beauty, and she glides…"

He looked up and saw the look on her face and stopped reciting the poem.

Mary Ellen Said, Please, please continue.

He hesitated for a few seconds and then started where he had left off and ended the poem with Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Mary Ellen was amazed.

She said, Do you know other poems? What about Edgar Allen Poe’s, ‘The Raven’?

He immediately started quoting ‘The Raven’?"

"Once upon a midnight dreary,