Submitted by Lynn Embree

CITIZENS JOURNAL NEWSPAPER
June 3, 1976 - Page 28D

AND "OLD BEN"
Dred Blalock - "The Law"

Ask any over-50 long-time Queen City resident if they remember Dred Blalock, and the most likely answer will be, "I sure do.

"Remember the time he was chasing so-and-so. They were going so fast they busted a hole in their radiator and water started pouring out. They just pulled over to the side of the road and got out and stuck a wad of chewing gum in the hole and went on, Dred Blalock behind 'em."

Call him constable of Precinct 4 or Queen City Sheriff, "The Law" or just "Old Dred," he was recognized for "getting his man" during the years he served as a law enforcement officer beginning in 1907.

Reading from the writings of Mrs. Mildred Blalock Sanders, Dred's daughter, it is a wonder that the constable wasn't killed enforcing the law. There wasn't much Dred feared.

The night the "car rustlers" hit Queen City, the Methodist church minister called the Blalock home for help. The minister had heard a suspicious noise, gone outside to investigate and found the thieves pushing his car into the street. Hastily dressing, the constable ran for his old car, only to find that it, too, had been pushed into the alley. After a shot or two, the hunt was on.

"A group had hit town planning to get away with a bunch of cars. They were all over town, but as people became aroused, there was help," Mrs. Sanders wrote. "Officers from Atlanta were called and came running. The chase was hot as they turned up all over the place. Finally deciding their luck was no good that night, they grabbed one car, belonging to Ross Powell, as well as I can remember, and headed out toward Texarkana.

"By the time, Daddy was after them, of all things, on foot! They began to shoot at him. He was in the open with no protection."
Blalock dropped to one knee and returned the rustlers' fire, wounding the thieves and recovering the car.

"Well, Mother and we kids were home listening. We recognized Daddy's shots, but counted 11 shots fired back at him. Mother thought he could not possibly be alive after that. We were scared to death, but he got home safely," Mrs. Saunders wrote.

Blalock and his old horse, Ben, made history in Queen City. He had moved his family to town while serving as deputy sheriff under his cousin, Cooper Blalock, who was Cass County sheriff, 1907-1912.

"My daddy was a Cass County peace officer for years," wrote Mrs. Sanders. "He was elected constable of Precinct 4 for many, many years, served as deputy sheriff, and in later years, was justice of the peace. He was a friendly sort of person, and I have heard it said that he just laughed and talked the prisoners into coming in with him. He could get tough, but he never liked to do that. Many a time, I can remember him brining a prisoner, sometimes a murderer, home with him, sitting down at the table and sharing the food courteously.
"We learned to expect most anything, "One time, he got home in a grim fury. Dred and "Old Ben" had been riding on a narrow dirt road a few miles out of town toward the Sulphur River, where the trees grew thick and tall. They were not welcome. Shortly before, an innocent person had been shot along the same road while riding in a buggy.

"Soon, he saw the end of a shotgun poking around a big tree, pointing straight at him," Mrs. Sanders wrote of her father.
"The road curved around the tree and as 'old ben' and dred curved with the road, the gun did, too."

Dred dropped the reins between his knees and told the horse to take it away while at the same time pulling his .45 Smith & Wesson in line with the shotgun barrel.

"Daddy could shoot from the hip as well as on the aim, and he was ready," Mrs. Sanders said.

"When he got home, his mad was up. 'The dirty so-and-so just didn't have the guts to shoot looking in my barrel,' he said, 'but, I'm going back tomorrow. No so-and-so who had to hide behind a tree is going to run Dred Blalock out!'

" He went back all right," concluded Mrs. Sanders. The country became infested with ticks and dipping vats were dug to combat the insects. Law required all Texans to have cattle dipped. Many cattle owners rebelled and various dipping vats were dynamited. One night when Mrs. Blalock and her children were home alone, "old Ben" returned with an empty saddle.

"We tired him up looking for signs of violence, but soon a little Ford came tearing down the street, tooting the horn and sure enough, Daddy was in it," Mrs. Sanders wrote.

Blalock had been talking to a group of people about dipping their cattle when he was separated from Ben, according to Mrs. Sanders. "The people had resented this and congregated in an upstairs room. While Daddy was on the stairs trying to reason with them, there was a loud explosion outside. The crowd headed for the stairs, Daddy pulled his gun and held them at gunpoint until he could back down the stairs first. They had dynamited old Ben, who was tied to a tree. He broke loose, going practically berserk, but still knew the way home.
"My father walked quite a distance to reach a phone. He called Homer Stanley, who ran a "jitney" service, to come get him. The road was bad, but Homer made it."

Blalock vowed to his family that he would get the "so-and-so" who dynamited Ben, adding, that, though he couldn't prove it, the accused had been selling bootleg liquor out in those swamps for years.

"Before night, I'll have him in jail," said Daddy, and he did," Mrs. Sanders recorded.

The narrowest escape Dred ever had came one dark, stormy night when he set out to investigate a tip that something bad was going to happen. "The wind was howling and the sleet was coming down," Mrs. Sanders wrote. He buckled up and took off on old Ben, and it grew late, but we didn't want to go to bed. We were worried about Daddy.

Suddenly, a great banging and knocking began on the kitchen door. "We went, and Mother, with gun ready, called out to find out who it was. No answer. Just more hard banging. It went from door to door and we were scared. Finally, at the back door, Mother said she would just have to open the door and find out what was going on before they tore the house down. We kids were hanging on to her when she unlocked the door and began to open it a crack with her gun barrel coming through. "'Nolia, don't shoot .... it's me .... it's me,' Daddy was yelling."

That was one time Dred Blalock was really scared, according to his daughter's account. The storm had grown so bad that he decided to turn around and come home, only to be met with a gun barrel in the hands of a frightened and nervous wife.

All he ever thought of was the job, never mind what was in it for him. He would spend his last dime hauling somebody around in his old car for maybe just a "thank you," sometimes not even that," Mrs. Sanders recalled. "I didn't agree with him on this, but Daddy would argue that friends were better than money. He died from a heart attack while driving his old, warn-out car. It ran out into a plowed field and no one was hurt. He had a $10 bill in his pocket. But while he lived, he really got around. You might say he lived for others.

"I sometimes think the back roads of Cass County must miss old Ben and Dred. I do too"