Fiery Cross, Volume 3, Number 8, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 December 1923 — Page 10
PAGE TEN
THE FIERY CROSS Friday, December 21,-1923
Women of the Ku Klux Klan
In Ohio, Minnesota, Michigan, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, New Jersey and Indiana are working in harmony with the men. Organizations are being formed in ever)- state. Women of clean American ideals are eligible for membership in the Women's Organization.
Address your Inquiries for membership to Hie nearest postofilee. P. O. Box 1164, Sta. A, Columbus, Ohio P. O. Box 343, St. Paul, Minn. P. O. Box 251, Indianapolis, Ind.
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(Continued from Page 4" kidnapped together with two other men who are here now. Rigdon, the boy who used to work In the Southside Meat Market, came in and asked the sheriff for the key to the Odd Fellows hall. Claimed he had left his coat there. Now, we knew that Rigdon was not aji Odd Fellow, and wo also knew that the Ku Klux met In the Odd Fellows hall. Rigdon had boasted of the fact that he belonged to the Klan. The sheriff gave him the key. That night robed Klansmen kidnapped Peterson. They wore genuine Klan regalia, with full insignia and everything. There can
be no doubt that they were members of the organization. Peterson had previously incurnd the Klan's displeasure by selling a little booze and liv waeine war against the
hooded Knights. He disappeared the body is found. WThat further evidence is desired?" The people caught the idea in an instant. The reporters hurriedly prepared their notes and hastened to the telegraph office. In a thousand papers that afternoon the headlines read, "KLAN STANDS CONVICTED OF ATROCIOUS MURDER," though the Klan did not stand convicted and only circumstantial evidence had been brought against it. The open hearing dragged through without nroducins ti:iy positive evi
dence. In fact, at the close the order was nearer vindication than at the beginning. There had been some hroueht cut that were dis
turbing to Judge Karraker. First, the singular fact that the three men
who were in Beatty s omce on uie memorable afternoon that Peterson was kidnapped were the same ones who were seen to enter Karraker's private office on the day before the body was found; they were the same trio who had discovered the corpse. This fact did not escape the listeners. In the second place, the disconcerting fact of the new suit on the dead man worried the judge. In the third
place, and even more disconcerting, was the fact that Peterson's own relatives had failed to identify him. Things were mulling along at too
slow a pace. People were Degmnmg to have their doubts. Many of thenewspaper correspondents were being withdrawn. And it lacked only a few days until the election. Not only was Karraker receiving shocks and jars away from home, but he noticed a change of attitude in his. own family. Always in the past, whether agreeing with his
views or not, ivirs. ivarraivei uau been extremely loyal. Now she was wavering. Gene, for some time, had
been openly pro-Klan infatuated, he supposed by the romantic appeal of the movement, and more especially by the romantic appeal of George Taylor. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to offset her attachment for his political rival by promoting Cameron's suit with all his power. But she did not like Cameron and
never would; that was plain to be sesn. And recently she had complained of the professor's conduct. She had accused him of being too "fresh." He would teach the gentleman a lesson if he tried anything after the election, but now he could not afford to alienate him.
Mrs. Karraker was plainly for the Klan now and even cast insinuations that grated on her husband's nerves
regarding the possibility of "political trickery" in the finding of the body. That Mary should doubt him and suspicion him worried him considerably. He did not know that George and Gene were meeting every week at the Country Club; that Gene
made trembling confessions of her fears and suspicions; that George consoled her and, while confirming her doubts, promised that he would take no rash action that would harm her '-'dear, misguided old dad." "Oh, George, I'm worried so over daddy," she confessed as they sat under the trees at a private Country Club party, "I'm afraid he's doing something awful. He isn't like himself. He used to be so confident, even boastful. Now he is nervous and restless and seems to be haunted
by some fear. He does not sleep at
night and I often hear him pacing the floor. Do you suppose he could
be implicated in some plot in- his desperation in trying to beat you? I heard him swearing the other night and saying he wished he had never heard of Peterson. What do you suppose he means?" "It means just this, dear your dad resorted to low trickery and it has been found out on him. A secret service man has been shadowing him tor days and has learned the whole truth about that body. It is not Peterson at all, but the corpse of an unnamed vagrant who died in the City Hospital at Dallas. Peterson
is still alive. Your iatner Dougnt
this body and Is trying to palm the crime off onto the Klan. His trick has failed and he is a beaten man.
I am sorry for your sake, but it should teach him a lesson." "Dad's too old to begin learning lessons now," she said, faltering, "and his defeat will almost kill him. Oh, George, I am so torn between love for you and respect for my
.father that I am miserable. Of
course, I am for your platform, but
I so wish you hadn't come out against him. He will always dislike you, though he can not help admiring you. and it may cast a little shadow to dim our happiness." "It should not, if you really love me. Of course, tf you do not " "George I"
She leaned toward him. The reader may guess. Slowly and surely the swing of sentiment was toward the Klan. The
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it put forth extra efforts in Its behalf. Like all great moral movements it grew and prospered on persecution. The headlines, at first emblazoned in huge type on the front pages of the metropolitan dailies, now grew gradually smaller until at last the matter was dismissed in a three-line obscure mention. This, however, raised new difficulties for the journalists. Hosts of readers who were living from day to day on the new developments in the Prairie City situation resented this dis
continuance of their pet sensation and constantly bombarded the editors with questions. The editors could only answer that they could publish nothing further because no more news was being furnished them
by the great press agencies, and the latter could furnish no more without favoring the Klan which they were determined not to do. Because it was at this juncture that the Prairie City Herald published a letter. CHAPTER XXIII The Letter The letter was like one of Sir Oliver's favorite messages from the dead. It at once threw consternation
into the Karraker. camp and headed
the Forthoffer campaign to certain
failure. And Demon Rum, the scourge of the ages, was once more to blame. For the first time in his
life, Judge Karraker sincerely believed in prohibition, and if he had had his way at that time every drop and ounce of "white mule" -In the
world would have been poured into
the ocean. For drink had at last
-proved his ruin, though for- weeks he
himself had not touched it. The irresponsible editor was the sinner as usual. Too much liquor
had dulled his brain, and he had broken the last straw of hope for his henchman and himself. After the publication of this letter the whole train of affairs took a decided turn. The success, of the Klan ticket was
assured. The editor had penned his last editorial denouncing the Klan when the
postman brought him a special delivery letter. It bore the mark of an obscure town in Mexico. Feverishly he tore it open and gasped in amazement when he saw the name of Joe Peterson signed at the bottom. The letter read: Editor, Prairie City Herald, Prairie City, Southwest Dear Sir: I allow you will be greatly surprised to hear from me, as I guess everybody back there thinks
I am dead, but I am not, as you will
see from this letter. I aimed to write
this to the Judge, but old Forthoffer has spies in the postofiice and told
me if I tried to write he'd destroy the letter. They said they would kill me if I ever come back there, but that don't keep me from writin', I don't suppose. I am down in Mexico, where I can't tell, but I am determined that the Judge shall know the truth about me. The ones who took me out and whipped me was not Ku Klux at all,
but It was old Forthoffer and that
damn skunk, Cameron. He is playing Judge Karraker's friend, and is
planning to steal his daughter, I believe. At least, he is in league with Forthoffer, teeth and toenails. They
beat me nearly to death and run me out of the country and tried to take that letter away from me, but I had
it hid. Tell the Judge it is in my safe. It is the one from the Madame in Chicago, wantinga girl, showing that Cameron and Forthoffer is both
engaged in the white slave traffic. It will ruin him in the election if the Judge gets it in time. I don't know whether I will ever get to come back or not, but I hope
you and the Judge beat Forthoffer seven ways from Sunday. And If he can't do it I hope the real Ku Klux take the old wap out and beat hell out of him. Give the Judge my regards, and say, tell him to lay off the Ku Klux. They're the best gentlemen in our town. I knew it all the time, but
didn t want to confess it. JOE PETERSON. The editor read and reread this letter. It was almost unbelievable
that this man was still living. His body had been discovered and the papers were full of it, and now, here he was, popping up again, alive and
full of fight. But here was another sensation, greater, bigger than the other. He was glad that the coroner's inquest had not pronounced the body as that of Peterson. There had
been some doubts on the matter. This left "him a loophole to weave a great story about the finding of Peterson and still go chasing after the possi
ble identity of the man who had been found. He called Judge Karraker for a conference, but the Judge was out of town. Well, it didn't make any difference anyway. He was a newspaper man and could not depend solely on the Judge's dictation about what he printed. If Karraker only understood, it would be a great
aid to him. The Klan was done for and could never hope to recover its lost prestige. However much the papers might play up Peterson's reappearance, in the minds of a great
number the Klan would still be the murderer. Taylor was defeated, and they could consider him out of the
race. They could now pay their respects to Forthoffer and eliminate him by publishing the fact that he was a white slaver. This the editor proceeded to do. . The story was hurriedly written. The big headline again flared forth On the front page.
And the letter was published com
plete.
When reading the evening Herald,
complished except a little ruffle on
local waters and a great deal of un
favorable publicity for Prairie City in the newspapers of America. The
gullible public drank in the stories as truth. In many places, and pos-' sibly the growth of the Klan was set back for six weeks. Those who were against it were a little stronger against it and those who were for
open hearing ended with nothing ac pudge Karraker collapsed, and his
wife had to call In the physician. He recovered sufficiently to call the edi
tor at 9 that night. The conversa
tion was brief and pointed.
"Is this you, Baird?" asked the
Judge. "Yes." "Well, you infernal old fool, what did you mean?' "What are you talking about?'?
"That story." "What's wrong with that story?" "Everything. Don't you see you've ruined me?" "No. I've elected you." "Mighy poor way of electing me. Baird, If you can't beat that you can count me out and pay that mortgage you owe me." "Karraker, you go to the torrid zone!" "Go there yourself." Two telephone receivers were hung up simultaneously. Each man was using uncomplimentary language about the other. For a while Baird had feared Karraker because the
Judge was financing him, but now he had ceased to care because the paper was going bankrupt anyway. He went whistling back to his desk and elaborated on tile letter. He wrote a
carefully worded editorial of inquiry concerning the Identity of "that mysterious body." He believed Karraker
knew more than he dared to tell.
But before the afternoon edition appeared the next day, the editor was
in possession of a real story, still j more sensational, which proved to be the dying gasp of the Prairie City Herald and the final kick-off of Judge Karraker. Sheriff Beatty, in company with a stranger, came into the office and found the editor in a receptive and affable mood. The sheriff introduced the stranger without hesitancy. "This is Mr. Arthur, imperial nighthawk of the Ku Klux Klan," he said, "and he has some information that might
be of interest to you with regards to the recently-discovered body." "I should be very glad indeed to have any information you may have to offer, Mr. Arthur. Please be seated." He pushed out two chairs and
seated himself beside them, taking his pencil and paper pad in his hand.
"You will understand, Mr. Editor, that it is the duty of the nighthawk in our organization to find out things," Mr. Arthur began. "We ha-ve an extensive secret service system and the chief is termed the imperial nighthawk. Now, as soon as I was
informed of the condition Tiere, I came, and have made some astound
ing discoveries. Are you prepared to receive the truth about this matter?" "I am. Proceed," said Baird, remembering Karraker's overbearing attitude toward him in the past. Revenge was sweet. "Very well. On the Saturday night before this body was found, Judge Karraker received by express a large box from Dallas. I have traced this and found that it was sent by an undertaker there. I traced this further and secured this evidence." He spread out a number of documents
before the amazed editor. Among
them was a carbon duplicate of a re
ceipt given to John C. Karraker by this undertaker for the sum of sixty
dollars. The' express receipt was next produced. Then an affidavit charging that Charles Purnell and two others were seen to place the box
on the side of the road and take something into the underbrush and hide it, at midnight on Saturday night. The corpse was founolby them the next morning. "Now, this will make a very-sensational and stirring story, .and may cause some trouble, but you can use
your own discretion about accepting it. The Morning News would be glad to get it. I am offering you first
chance, said Arthur. "Which I am accepting," Baird re
plied quickly. "Here, give me those
papers to copy. It will ruin Kar
raker, but it will be the truth." That afternoon Prairie City was
thrilled again. The complete expose of the Karraker plot to discredit the Klan was received with gasps of astonishment. Within an hour the editor was experiencing the reaction. Fifteen of the paper's oldest sub
scribers Karraker men called at
the business office and canceled their subscriptions. The telephones jingled and irate voices denounced the newspaper men as hypocrites, traitors and liars."' Several people, for the first time it seemed, noticed tho fact that Baird was a drinking man. While he was slamming the Ku Klux and praising the lawless political gang who had so long dom
inated Boi3 d'Arc county, no one took exceptions to his bibulous tendencies. Now, he was called an old sot, an irresponsible drunkard, a reprobate and a disgrace to journalism. The friends of the Klan, while secretly
glorying in his new-found courage, were silent and allowed him to fight his battles alone. Which goes to show that there are reasons why the press of America is either against the or
ganization or else keeps still. Not only was personal abuse heaped upon him, but his business suffered even more noticeably. Eight
of the leading Jewish merchants of
the town called, over the telephone and canceled their advertising con-! tracts. The carrier boys reported a tremendous falling-off among the city subscribers, particularly among the Catholic people, the colored people, and among that class of semi-criminals who felt that their best friend
had forsaken them.
Judge Karraker had suffered a
breakdown. Two physicians were
constantly at his bedside administering narcotics and keeping him quiet. With his hope of election completely
cut on, his favorite paper forsaking him, and his scheme, upon which he
had staked everything, blown op like a toy balloon, he had sunk to the depths of despair. He cursed, wept and prayed, alternately. Withal, he
was a pitiable spectacle. The . roaring lion of the past was now the docile lamb. The political strategist was the beaten trickster. His former friends scorned him. His family
sympathized with him, but inwardly
exulted at tne failure of his infamous designs. But the act of treason on the part of the editor hurt him worst of all. When the doctors were out of the room, he called Baird.
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(To Be Continued) The next Installment of "The Bounds of the Law" will appear in this space next week.
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