|John Jones||Jul 3, 1814||Feb 28, 1893||East side, Section D, Lot 7, Person 2|
|Inscription and Notes:|
Honest Jack Jones
His house stands today at 240 West
Military Service: Mexican War
Col. 1st Ga.Reg. Vols., Mex. War per A/D. Former Treasurer State of Georgia. Mayor of Milledgeville.
John "Honest Jack" Jones (1814-1893) was Treasurer of the State of Georgia for 14 years. He died in a fall from an upstairs window of "The Homestead," 240 West Washington Street.
From the March 7, 1893, Union Recorder:
Funeral of Capt. Jack Jones
On the morning of February 28th, 1893, the spirit of the brave and gentle Captain Jack Jones plumed is flight from this old town where he lived and loved, planned and worked, through most of his long and eventful life.
Elsewhere his friend, Capt. Crawford, has referred in fitting terms to his service to his state, and his character as a statesman and patriot. It only remains for us to add a few lines in regard to him as a citizen of Milledgeville. He was born in this county in 1814, and spent his boyhood here. Going away, his young manhood was spent elsewhere, during which time he took a gallant part in the Mexican War, returning as a State Senator in 1848, '49. A few years later, being elected State Treasurer, he again made Milledgeville his home, and was a leading spirit in the stirring events which followed. Learned in Military affairs, as Captain of the Governor's Horse Guards, he was a "plumed knight" in those chivalric times -- and was counselled and looked up to in whatever pertained to our volunteer military organizations. He was Mayor of the city at a time when the historic old town was the center and pride of all Gerogians. For many years he was among our foremost citizens in all that made the old capital renowned. Genial, gentle, methodical, reliable -- in war council or in gay society -- his soft and kindly words won all hearts, and he was trusted and loved by high and low as few men have ever been. His name is intimately and lovingly blended in the history of Milledgeville.
Wednesday, the first day of March, was a balmy day -- the Old Capital was bathed in blessed sunlight; in the budding trees teh happy songbird heralded the approach of spring -- a bitter winter was retreating before the magic of Nature's resurrection -- an ideal day such as was desired for the inauguration of the new Democratic administration (and which alas for human hopes did not materialize) -- such a day was vouchsafed for the burial a man who had been a faithful servant of his State and who had dropped out of the busy scenes and stirring events of the present.
It was a quiet funeral -- friends gathered sadly at the old home; a sweet and hopeful song floated softly out on the balmy air, Rev. Mr. Brannen, of the Presbyterian Church, read the sacred Scriptures, and Rev. Mr. Bigham, of the Methodist church followed in a touchingly beautiful paryer to the Great, Loving God into whose Allwise hands all humanity falls pleadingly at last, and then our old friend and fellow citizen was laid to rest.