University of Virginia Library

THE OBSEQUIES.
BRANN AND DAVIS LAID TO REST SUNDAY.

BENEATH two mounds, each banked with flowers, one in Oakwood, the other in First Street Cemetery, were laid the victims of Friday's tragedy Sunday afternoon. Never were two funerals in this city more largely attended, and never was the dead followed to a last resting place by sorrowing friends with the reverence that was shown yesterday. At each home, the Davis residence in the Fifth Ward, and the Brann residence on North Fifth Street, friends began to gather shortly after noon, and they crowded through the two homes, on the lawn of one and about the yard of the other. Each man had his friends, and each had hosts of them, and they desired to show by their attendance at this last service their devotion to those friends who were now gone to the great beyond. Each procession was a long one, the Davis cortege moved from the home on Dallas Street to Elm, thence west on Elm to the suspension bridge. When the hearse, which was preceded by vehicles covering three blocks, containing Knights of the Maccabees, turned into Elm Street, vehicles were yet falling in line at the home, the procession extending more than a dozen blocks in length. All classes and conditions of men were in the line, from the lowest to the highest, citizens of Waco joining in the respect to the citizen whose tragic death was known. He was well liked, and being liked, they sorrowfully joined in this tribute to his memory. There were services at the home, conducted by Rev. Austin Crouch, of East Waco Baptist Church. Dr. Nelms was to participate, but a sudden illness prevented him being present. The service commenced by the singing by the choir of Some Sweet

Day. Those composing the choir were Messrs. W. T. Millman, W. E. Brittain, W. R. Covington, J. S. Henderson, Mrs. McDonald and Misses Josie Davis, Nannie Huff and Shirley Faulkner, all of the East Waco Baptist Church.

After the reading of the 23rd Psalm by Rev. Austin Crouch, followed by the singing of Nearer My God to Thee by the choir, Mr. Crouch began a short talk, which went deep into the hearts of his hearers and was a beautiful tribute to the noble characteristics of the deceased.

He began by quoting the poem, The Hour of Death, by Mrs. Hemans, to illustrate the thought that man cannot weckon upon the hour of the coming of death.

He drew attention to the fact that "it was said of Moses that he died when his eye was not dim nor his natural strength abated." He said it had been thus with the deceased, he having been taken from life in the prime of manhood, aged 42. He referred to him as a loving husband and devoted father, and possessing the love of a host of friends, as the vast concourse assembled about his bier testified.

Mr. Crouch then referred with words full of tenderness and pathos to the wife and six children whom the husband and father had left when taken from life, and in this connection quoted from Tennyson's In Memoriam, the lines:

Touching upon the characteristics of the deceased, Mr. Crouch eulogized his devotion to his family, his loyalty

to his friends and his willingness always to sacrifice anything to them. He said of him that he was a good citizen, who for the last several years had devoted much of time and talents to upholding all the virtues of good citizenship, adding that it was not often that one met a man nowadays who could be called a good citizen.

Mr. Crouch closed a talk that was well chosen and effectively delivered by warning his hearers that they were but mortal and to be prepared for the hour of death. With his final words he commended the loved ones of the deceased to the mercy and care of Almighty God.

The song, The Unclouded Day, closed the services at the house.

When the procession reached the cemetery impressive services, according to the ritual of the order, were conducted by Commander Ben Richards of Artesian Tent, Knights of the Maccabees, a final prayer was offered by Rev. Crouch and the body of Tom Davis was lowered to rest. The floral tributes were beautiful. Friends brought cut flowers and evergreens, and two large designs especially were noticed. One was a large wreath of red and white flowers, twined with crepe, the red, white and black being the colors of the Maccabees. This was sent by Artesian Tent No. 6, of which the deceased was a member. The other was a large anchor, fully four feet in length composed of yellow roses and white carnations. It was a huge piece, beautifully made, and testified the friendship of him who sent it, Mr. Connor. The pallbearers were Judge W. H. Jenkins, J. E. Boynton, T. B. Williams, J. N. Harris, A. C. Riddle, J. K. Rose, J. H. Gouldy, W. H. Deaton, Robt. Wright, S. F. Kirksey, Major A. Symes and James I. Moore.
. . .

The funeral of W. C. Brann did not move promptly on the hour. It had been fixed for 3 P.M., but there was some delay. During the moments just preceding the funeral services Mrs. Brann went upon the lawn herself, accompanied by a friend, and she directed the cutting of certain buds and roses which had been favorites of her departed husband, and when the services were held in the parlor she placed this collection of cut flowers upon the head of the casket. The entire place was crowded with sympathetic friends, and by her side were Mr. Brann's sister and her husband, who came to Waco to attend the funeral, being summoned from their Fort Worth home. A brass quartette, composed of L. N. Griffin, first cornet; J. C. Arratt, second cornet; H. C. Collier, trombone; Fred Podgen, baritone horn, rendered sweet sacred music, one selection being Nearer My God to Thee. Mrs. Tekla Weslow Kempner sung Mr. Brann's favorite selection, The Bridge. The service was conducted by Rev. Frank Page of the Episcopal Church.

The procession was a very long one. It extended all along Fifth Street from the house, and when Austin Avenue was reached a large number dropped out of the line, as was done in the Ross, Coke and Harris funerals, and proceeded to Oakwood by other streets. A brass band preceded the procession, playing martial music. The street was lined with pedestrians and vehicles, some of whom stood for thirty minutes waiting for the cortège. The delay was occasioned, however, at the home. Soon after the services were concluded, Mrs. Brann requested that the casket be opened again, and her request was complied with. For a few minutes she was alone with her dead, and in that few minutes she gazed for the last time upon her companion, her loved one and her husband. When the procession reached the cemetery it was found

that a large number had preceded the cortège to the grave, many vehicles and persons on foot being in waiting. A large number went on the cars, three cars leaving the home.

The services at the grave consisted of an address by Mr. J. D. Shaw, friend of the deceased. He said:

"My friends and friends of W. C. Brann: I come this evening at the request of Mr. Brann's family to lay tribute upon his grave. I speak as a friend living for a friend dead. No ordinary man has fallen in the person of W. C. Brann. Nature fashioned him to be a power among his fellow men. By industry, by hard study, by careful observation, by diligent research, by interminable effort, he rose from comparative obscurity to teach and impress the civilized world. In the person of W. C. Brann we have an illustration of what may be expected in a country like ours. He was a natural product of our American democracy. He was a star that rose by dint of his own effort, his own determination, surrounded by circumstances that invited merit from the common people, from the whole people. W. C. Brann was a cosmopolitan character. He could never be confined within the limits of a party or a creed. So great was his grasp, so far-reaching his thought, that he lived in the world and not in a mere party. He was found always with that party or with that sect that represented what he thought to be right and true. A peculiarity of this man was his dual personality. Few people fully understood him in this respect. As a bold genius, as an intellectual giant, as a man armed and equipped with intellectual fire, and as a man with a noble ambition to stand by the right, he was a sworn foe of hypocrisy and fraud. And when he took into his brave hands the pen, he made fraud and hypocrisy quake and tremble. Burning words

came from his tongue, scorching and branding every fraud. Men looked upon him then as a hard man, as a heartless man because he told them the truth. But the other side of this man's individuality, I, for one, have had the opportunity to see. He could not only sow intellectually; he was not only able to entertain the civilized world with burning words, with thoughts that were winged and that went like lightning, but he was a man of heart and of honor, and a man of the warmest and most generous love. He could go towards the skies intellectually, but in his heart he lived close to nature. He loved nature. He loved the very trees under whose shade he rested. He loved the little birds that sang in the trees, the grass upon which he walked, the flowers that bedecked the forest. And he loved his fellow man. He had a warm, generous heart and affection that went out to the poor and those who were needy. W. C. Brann was never known to attack a man who was a man. It was the strong and the defiant that he branded, and not the weak and the needy or the deserving. For these he was the friend. I knew this man, not only as the editor of the ICONOCLAST, not only as the utterer of grand and entertaining sentences, but I knew him as a man whose palm was stretched out to the man who was in need. Few men have been more generous with their charity than my neighbor and my friend whom we lay away to-day. No man within my knowledge ever presented the world with a purer, a nobler, a loftier home character than W. C. Brann. Oh! how he loved his wife and his dear little children—not only the children that were living, but the child that was dead. How ardently he strove to support, maintain and bless them. And what a friend they have lost. No man ever approached W. C. Brann for a penny that he did not respond, and from his beautiful home no beggar was ever turned away. I am afraid many people who only knew Mr. Brann as a genius, as a man of eloquence and power with the pen, knew little of him as a man of heart and affection. But, I, as his friend, as a friend of his wife and his fatherless children, I thank the people of Waco to-day that they have testified of their affection for this man. We shall never see his like again here, perhaps. He was a rising star. How soon that star has set! But, my dear friends, he has left a memory. He has made his impression upon the world and we will never forget him. Let me then say, for I must be brief, I am reminded by the stormy elements about us that I must not detain you longer, let me say in conclusion that Brann is not dead. His burning words still live, and his thoughts will yet remain to affect the world, and we will never forget him. And I say to his wife and children, though to-day you feel crushed by this great sorrow, I know by experience that our dead do not pass away from our minds. They grow more beautiful the longer we live. We remember them with greater pleasure, more tenderly, they will always be just like they had been. They never change. The little girl that you laid away in Houston is to-day in your mind just what she was then. And the dear husband that you lay away now will always be just what he is to-day. No changes can come. He is fixed in the memory.

"Now, my friends, in behalf of Mrs. Brann and her children, let me thank you for this presence, for this demonstration of your appreciation of this man who has so suddenly, so unexpectedly, fallen in our midst. Let us cherish his memory, remember his virtue, and imitate his daring courage in defiance of that which he thought was evil and wrong. He was not without his faults. None of us are. He was always ready and willing to admit that. No man was more willing to answer for his work than

W. C. Brann. Therefore I ask for him that judgment to-day we shall all crave of one another when we shall have passed away. We will now lay his body in the grave, we will cover it with mother earth, and upon it place these flowers as a testimonial of our love and affection for him."

At the grave, the bouquet which Mrs. Brann had laid on the casket before leaving home was returned to her, and just before the casket was lowered into the grave, she stepped forward and lovingly placed the floral piece upon the casket and it was closed in the grave. There was a large number of floral offerings. Flowers were there in profusion. But as at the other funeral, two pieces were especially noticeable. One was a huge broken wheel, full three feet in diameter, all in white, composed of lilies of the valley, hyacinths and roses. It was the gift of the employees of the ICONOCLAST, and William Marion Reedy of St. Louis. The Knight Printing Company sent a large anchor about three feet long, which was composed of pink carnations and white roses. The following were the pallbearers: J. W. Shaw, G. B. Gerald, D. R. Wallace, L. Eyth, Waller S. Baker, Dr. J. W. Hale, H. B. Mistrot, John D. Mayfield and James M. Drake.