WALKING DEATH ROWS

WALKING DEATH ROWS

By Andy Weddington

Tuesday, 12 November 2024

You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everyone dances with the Grim Reaper.  - Robert Alton Harris

Our Lady of Guadalupe Chapel is beautiful.

Out-of-doors meticulously kept greens and beautiful flowers welcome.

Indoors a huge magnificent colorful mural surrounding the raised altar grabs and holds worshipper attention. 

Daily services draw, from a community of thousands, soul searchers.

Of all places to be sited ... Louisiana State Penitentiary.

Angola is nickname. As is nicknames 'Alcatraz of the South' and 'The Farm.' 

Friday morning past, I, with six others escorted by Warden Hooper, toured the prison.

We walked death row. 

Cell doors open - some remained in cell others not. 

Some chose to speak with us.

We stood as close as having casual conversation with a loved on. 

I've not mingled with people convicted of murder before. 

The experience not that expected. 

No tension nor fear.

Of 58 two but 33. 

One of the "youngsters" introduced to us so casual - genuine smile and laughter at something the Warden said during brief conversation.  

There's cemeteries on Angola for dogs and for deceased prisoners not claimed by family. 

A sobering but stunning prisoner built hearse transports to final resting place. 

There was so much to see. 

Prisoners shared they'd been there 22, 25, and 40 years.

Still reflecting on the men who did something bad (though some looking for redemption), the overseers of those men, and the necessity society safeguard human from human.   

Note: Warden Hooper, some 40+ years in corrections, leads by walking around. After more than four hours of observation - clearly in command and respected. In military analogy the warden is a base commanding general - enormous scope of responsibilities.

Grace Episcopal Church is beautiful.

Historic.

Twenty-two miles southeast of Angola in the heart of St. Francisville sits this magnificent house of worship amidst old live oaks draped in Spanish moss with manicured grounds.

Facing church entry to starboard is small cemetery. 

Tasteful flower arrangements pepper graves. 

American flags decorate veteran stones. 

We walked death row, again. 

Sunday morning - 0915 sharp, 10 November (birthday of the Corps) there was ceremony.

A U. S. Marine Corps Det (Officer-in-Charge, color guard, firing detail, band with bugler) rendered honors and laid wreath at the grave of General Robert H. Barrow, USMC - 27th Commandant of the Marine Corps (1979-1983).

General Barrow selflessly served 41 years in uniform. 

He fought in three wars (WWII, Korea, Vietnam) - command in each. 

This the 41st year since he retired; 16 years since death.  

It was gray and rainy - somber perfect.  

Anyway, on went invocation, National Anthem, 21 gun rifle salute, Taps, and Marines Hymn - tradition for the simple but elegant honors.  

General Barrow saw death; plenty of death. 

Good men taken by God on His mysterious schedule.  

God's grace spared him.

There's dot to connect between General Barrow and Angola. 

The prison medical clinic is named Barrow - after R. E. Barrow (the General's oldest brother). 

"R. E." (pronounced "Ree") provided care to prisoners for decades. 

The prisoners voted to name the new clinic after their "Doc" - a WWII Navy corpsman.

Conclusion ...

West Feliciana Parish - home of men of valor, of villain.

The surname Barrow etched in area plantations history, in headstones. 

All men die - kings, street sweepers, prisoners, and generals enjoy not parole nor pardon.

No escape. 

There's more than one kind of death row - our supreme Warden knows; loves all.

Semper Fidelis, Rob Barrow.