From the Archives:Lynching of Lloyd Clay

History serves as a stark chronicle, often unveiling the darkest chapters of humanity’s
existence. Amid the intriguing tapestry of Vicksburg’s past and its vibrant people, there exists an equal measure of moments that stain our collective history. While the past is an immutable tapestry, it is imperative that we delve into its intricacies, discerning what humanity is capable of, and approach our future with mindfulness to avert the unnecessary scars inherited from
those who preceded us. The tragic narrative of Lloyd Clay, an 18-year-old African American
day laborer in the employ of C. J. O’Neil, epitomizes the depths of human cruelty. Clay fell victim to one of the most reprehensible practices ever devised-a lynching orchestrated by a mob for a crime he could not possibly have committed.

Lloyd Clay was the middle son of Hattie Clay, a widowed mother, well respected cook and laundress in the community. Lloyd’s older brother, Archie, was an organ and piano player
who owned a barbershop on Washington Street. Their youngest brother Harry was also an owner of a barbershop downtown. The family lived at 1907 Monroe Street, just a few blocks away from the A. & V. Station. At 8:00 a.m., May 15, 1919, Lloyd and his brother Harry left their home together heading towards the O’Neil residence a few blocks away. Upon arriving at their destination, the two parted ways marking the last moment anyone in the family saw Lloyd alive.

Several blocks away at the home of the Broussard family, a young Mattie Hudson had
been renting a room on the second floor of the house. Hudson was heard screaming in her
room prompting Mr. Broussard upstairs to see what the commotion was. The door to her room
had been locked, so Mr. Broussard rushed outside in time to witness a man escaping through the window of Hudson’s room. No physical harm had been done during their tussle, but news quickly spread throughout town riling a search party.

Bloodhounds were brought out to hunt down the assailant, but were unable to satisfy
the group when they picked up the scent of a white man nearby the Broussard home. On their second attempt they located Lloyd Clay on the opposite end of town at the A. & V. Station
where he was arrested. After being taken to the Warren County jail, Clay was placed in a lineup
for Hudson’s inspection. Mattie Hudson was unable to identify any of the arrested men as her attacker claiming. “none of the men present entered my room.” Lloyd was not released, but
instead held at the jail pending an investigation.

Crowds began gathering around the jail upon hearing about the arrests in town, and by
8:00 p.m. they had swelled into a mob of nearly 1,000 men, women, and children. Sheriff Scott pleaded with them to return to their homes and allow the justice system to do its work, but the enraged mob could not be sated with reason. Using railroad ties, the exterior wall of the jail was battered down. The Sheriff and twelve deputies were overwhelmed by the mass of people pouring into the building. Lloyd Clay was pulled from his cell on the second floor, thrown down the stairs onto the concrete floors below, and then dragged east up Clav Street until they arrived at the corner of Farmer and Clay Street. Mattie Hudson was once again brought before Lloyd Clay for identification. “Is this the man? Say the word, someone in the crow shouted.
Lloyd in complete terror and shock cried out, “I’m not the one lady!” Hudson, although unable to identify him during the daylight, said, “Yes, he’s the one.” She claimed that she recognized his clothes and the side of his face. In reality, she knew Clay was not her attacker, but was influenced by the chaotic mob. Regardless, it was her words that sealed the fate of an innocent man.

Accounts of Lloyd’s murder are horrifying. Additional details and materials can be
requested from the Old Court House Museum Research Library, but I do not intend to publish them in this article as they are incredibly graphic.