
photograph by vance lauderdale
A handsome monument to Lt. Harris stands in the Miller Circle section of Elmwood Cemetery.
Dear Vance: I came across an unusual gravestone during a visit to Elmwood Cemetery. A stone marker stands over the grave of Lt. Frank Harris, who died in 1915. But a plaque bolted to the stone carries a dramatic inscription: “His Last Words: Help the Others First.” What happened to this officer that would prompt such a courageous command? — R.B., Memphis.
Dear R.B.: The monument to Lt. Frank M. Harris, located in the Miller Circle section of Elmwood, carries the insignia of the U.S. Navy. The inscription does indeed suggest a command uttered in battle, one which the speaker possibly did not survive. But in fact, Harris uttered these words far from any ship, and the injunction has nothing to do with the Navy at all. Even so, it reflects the courage of this remarkable gentleman.
This month we devote a feature story to one genuine Memphis hero, Tom Lee. This column pays tribute to another.
Harris was born here on July 31, 1887. Various sources say that he attended Court Avenue Presbyterian Church and Memphis University School, while living with his widowed mother, described in the newspapers as “understood to be a woman of considerable means.” The family was related to Tennessee Governor Malcolm Patterson, who recommended the young man to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, where he was admitted as a midshipman. After graduating in 1910, he was assigned to the battleship U.S.S. New Jersey.
Relations between the United States and Mexico had never been stable following the Mexican-American War half a century earlier. It’s too complicated to go into here, but in 1914, our country sent Naval forces to the port of Vera Cruz to quell an uprising. Harris took part in a battle there. The result was victory for the United States, but not without several hundred casualties on both sides.
According to official reports, Harris received commendations for “conspicuous bravery under enemy fire, and on one occasion, he commanded a squad that silenced a group of snipers. On another occasion, he carried a mortally wounded seaman away from the scene of hostility to where a field hospital had been established.”
Later, one of his comrades described his actions in this way: “At Vera Cruz, it became necessary for him to take his life into his own hands, and he was commended by his superior offices for his dauntless courage. It is doubtful if he ever grasped the reason for this commendation [or] why they classed him as a hero. There was something to be done, and he did it.”
The Commercial Appeal reported, “News of the death of Lt. Frank Moore Harris was received with a distinct shock in Memphis, where the young Naval officer was born and reared, widely known, and admired. His mother was prostrate with grief at her home, 633 Jefferson Avenue.”
After the battle ended, Harris was assigned to the battleship U.S.S. Delaware, stationed at Hampton Roads, Virginia, where he was commissioned a lieutenant on March 7, 1915. On the night of October 10th of that same year, he gathered some friends — two fellow officers and a Navy physician — and drove to Richmond, Virginia, to attend a party there. Some sources claim that Harris got into a race with another car. He was on an unfamiliar road and missed a turn, smashing into a tree. An account of the accident in the Washington Times was headlined “NAVAL OFFICER MEETS DEATH AS MOTOR CAR TURNS TURTLE.” The passengers were shocked and scratched, but Harris was mortally injured. When rescuers arrived, they tried to extricate him from the wrecked car, and that’s when he uttered his immortal words: “Help the others first.” He died moments later.
This story had a profound effect on those who heard it. The accident — surely not normally national news — was carried by newspapers around the country. Writing about his friend in a memorial program, one man observed: “In the supremist hour of his life, and when he must have known the end was at hand, we find him saying, ‘Help the others.’ No sublime utterances ever fell from mortal man: ‘Help the others.’ It is the beginning and the end of the history of a heroic soul. Of no concern to him that the golden bowl was broken. Of no concern to him that the veil of the future was cut in twain. Of no concern to him that his own life was at an end.”
Harris was just 28 years old. He had a rich life ahead of him, as noted by friends and family. According to a full account of his life and death published in Tennessee, The Volunteer State: 1769-1923, “one of his biographers spoke of him as a most devoted and affectionate son, loving brother, a true friend. Loyalty and devotion marked his life from the cradle to the grave. His years were few, cut down in the beginning of what promised to be a brilliant career, but who can say how much he accomplished in so short a time?”
Obviously, his death made front-page news in The Commercial Appeal, which reported, “News of the death of Lt. Frank Moore Harris was received with a distinct shock in Memphis, where the young Naval officer was born and reared, widely known, and admired. His mother was prostrate with grief at her home, 633 Jefferson Avenue.”
The Memphis Special of the Southern Railway was sent to Richmond to return the body to Memphis, accompanied by several friends along with a special U.S. Navy detail. He was eventually laid to rest with full military honors in the Patterson family plot at Elmwood.
Writing about him in the funeral program, a companion made this final observation: “Only a short while ago, Frank Moore Harris was with us, buoyant with life and full of hope and promise. Today, the falling leaves in yonder cemetery whisper a requiem to him in his eternal sleep.”
The handsome monument (top) at Elmwood Cemetery marks the final resting place of U.S. Navy Lt. Frank Harris.
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