Ghost of Burg Jones whispers “Land is power”

In the heart of South Monroe, the name “Burg Jones” is everywhere. It’s etched into street signs, emblazoned on the facade of an elementary school, and serves as the moniker for a sprawling housing complex. Yet, if you walk down the lane that bears his name, you won’t find a statue or even a grainy photograph of the man himself.

Burg Jones is a ghost in the archives, but a giant in the soil of Ouachita Parish.

A Legacy Built on Dirt and Grit

Born the descendant of enslaved people, Burg Jones lived through an era where the shadow of the plantation still loomed large over the South. While many of his contemporaries were trapped in the relentless cycle of sharecropping—a system designed to keep Black families in perpetual debt—Jones operated under a different philosophy.

His mantra was simple, radical, and unwavering: “Land is power.”

Court records reveal a man of extraordinary discipline. Starting as early as 1897, Jones began stitching together a small real estate empire, one parcel at a time. Between 1883 and 1946, ledgers credit him with more than 20 separate property acquisitions consisting of hundreds of acres in South Monroe.

That may not seem like much today, but for a Negro in the Jim Crow South, these weren’t just real estate deals; they were acts of defiance and liberation.

The Storefront Sage

Jones didn’t just hoard his wealth; he lived among the community he helped build. He operated a general store right on the lane that would eventually bear his name. There, he served as a mentor to local youth, frequently preaching the importance of property ownership. To Jones, an education was vital, but a deed in your hand was the only way to ensure you never had to answer to “the man” for your shelter or your bread. The education would help families learn how to get and keep land.

Beyond his business acumen, Jones was:

• A Devout Believer: He held a deep faith in God that fueled his work ethic.
• A Civic Leader: He was an active participant in local activities that sought to improve the lives of Monroe’s “Colored Citizens” during a time of systemic exclusion.

The Name and the Neglect

History has a habit of being a bit careless with its heroes. If you look closely at the signs for Berg Jones Lane Elementary or the local housing projects, you’ll notice a misspelling. Despite the “e” replacing the “u,” the legacy remains tied to the same man.

While the 1976 Bi-Centennial Report mentions descendants like Albert Jones Brice and his grandfather Herbert Sullivan Brice, much of what became of Jones’s vast landholdings remains a mystery.

The man who once owned the very earth in the area where a school now stands has largely faded into the periphery of Monroe’s memory.

Something of his own

Burg Jones Lane stands as one of the first streets in Monroe ever named after an African-American resident. It serves as a permanent marker of a man who refused to be a tenant but to have something of his own.

Every time a resident passes one of those street signs, the message remains the same for the next generation.

In an era of shifting economies, the ghost of Burg Jones still whispers his century-old truth: Buy the land, hold on to the land, and build something that lasts to pass on to the next generation.