(Over the course of the next few weeks, the Lincoln Parish Journal is republishing some of its most memorable stories from the past year … some of our readers favorites).
by Wesley Harris
Heroes are born, they say, as extraordinary individuals, fortified by bravery, and willing to rush into moments of chaos to save others. But evidence has proven many heroes are quiet, reserved individuals with few aspirations of someday being the man or woman of the hour.
Alfred Richmond probably did not think of himself as a hero, before or after his brief moment in the spotlight. A quiet farmer in Grambling, he devoted his energies to caring for his family. Richmond lived near the train stop called Allen Greene, the forerunner of the town of Grambling, a few miles west of Ruston.
A wealthy farmer and businessman. Green e was elected to the Louisiana state senate during the turmoil of Reconstruction after the Civil War. Greene’s bill to create the new parish of Lincoln in 1873 gave him tremendous power over local government. The law gave the governor the authority to appoint Lincoln Parish officeholders for every position from police juror to district attorney and sheriff. Republican Governor William Kellogg did so from a list provided by Allen Greene. For short time Greene controlled every office in Lincoln Parish to the consternation of Democrat voters. His lock on power within the parish almost started a war.
But in the time he held power of his office and for a few years afterward, Greene‘s business interests thrived. He built a road from his large holdings on what is now the White Lightning Road west of Vienna to the east-west railroad that came through Lincoln Parish in 1884. The terminus of that road at the railroad became a brief rail stop named Allen Greene station. And in later years, the small enclave of African-Americans around the station would be renamed Grambling.
Richmond and his wife Parthenia, both former slaves, lived in that community, farming and raising a family. We can surmise he valued education because his son Fate became one of the leaders in bringing a school to the community that would evolve into Grambling State University. A GSU residence hall is even named after LaFayette Franklin “Fate” Richmond.
The week of July 14, 1889 saw the community deluged by a constant driving rain. Farm work ceased and travel over muddy roads became impossible. For some reason lost to history, Alfred Richmond was out and about. He was possibly walking on the tracks of the Vicksburg, Shreveport & Pacific Railroad to stay out of the mud. Besides, it ran alongside his small farm since he had donated part of the right-of-way.
Richmond came upon a trestle over a rushing, swollen creek of rainwater between Allen Greene and Ruston. The bridge had been washed out, leaving the rails of the V.S.&P. dangling into the water.
Richmond knew an engineer in an approaching train would be unable to stop once he recognized the danger. A train traveling at 45 miles an hour could take up to a mile to come to a stop. The washout, deep and wide, would cause the passenger cars to topple on one another like falling dominoes.
Richmond knew he must act. He had to get far enough down the tracks to warn the train scheduled to pass through soon.
By no means a young man, Richmond took off down the tracks. The news reports of the day fail to reveal how far Richmond ran or how he managed to flag down the engineer. But the train stopped in time, saving dozens of passengers from serious injury and death.
The brief newspaper account praised Richmond and reported the grateful passengers collected a small reward among themselves to present to Richmond. The amount totaled between $6 and $25 according to varying accounts; small compensation for saving so many.
One reporter presumed the V.S.&P. would likely reward Richmond as well, encouraging the company to present the “old fellow” with a farm “on its best lands nearby, as he is too valuable to be left to stray far off the right-of-way.”
Instead, Richmond, who likely had never strayed far from home, received a pass to ride the train for free for the next four months, a “reward” that cost the rail company nothing.
The Ruston Caligraph, the closest newspaper, blasted the V.S.&P. Noting Richmond’s race as an impediment in itself, the editor argued the farmer “has to labor hard to make both ends meet. But he was not thought too poor to be asked to donate the right of way to the railroad company through his little farm, giving thereby a considerable slice of his meager possession to a rich corporation that was able to almost cover his little farm with $5 bills; nor was he too penurious to do it; and he signed the deed, no doubt with less reluctance than did the official who signed the pass that entitles Richmond to free rides on the company’s trains until the 1st of December.”
The Caligraph editor continued. “The difference is, Richmond, though a Negro, is a Southern man with characteristic Southern man’s liberality, while the president of the Vicksburg, Shreveport and Pacific Railroad Company is a Northern man with characteristic Northern man’s stinginess; and, by the way, one, it seems, whose affections for the colored man though possibly warm enough, cannot be measured by a money standard.”
Alfred Richmond did not set out to be a hero that rainy day. With no time to waste and realizing hesitation of even a few seconds could lead to disaster, Richmond acted and saved lives.
Richmond’s story was lost to history save a handful of older Grambling residents. No medals, no plaque on the town hall. Just a poor, black dirt farmer who had endured slavery, overlooked by society, and likely forced to ride in the back of the train if he could afford such an excursion, save for four months in 1889 when he could ride for free.
