"Why, what is going to happen?" she asked.
"There is going to be an election jollification."
There were no bills put out announcing the celebration, neither did the papers carry any notice, but about seven o'clock the streets were jammed with people. Every available parking space in the business section was occupied by a car. Everywhere there was an air of expectancy. No one could or would give any information as to why the great crowd had gathered. Such questions were common: "Why all this crowd?" "What's going to happen?" "Why are all these people coming to town?" Occasionally someone would state that he had heard that there was to be an election celebration. One old colored woman exclaimed, "Fo' de Lawd sake! Am all the peopel in de world a comin' to Wilford Springs?"
At eight-fifteen, "There they come," "there they come," was passed along the front ranks of those who lined the street pavements. Around the corner at the intersection of Market and Broadway came a white robed figure carrying the stars and stripes. Just behind him came two others carrying a fiery cross. Behind these came others marching eight abreast—all wore white robes and were masked. There were thousands of them. There was no interference by the police. The first five hundred marched through the crowds on the street without any demonstration from the onlookers. Finally a banner carried by the marchers bearing the words, "The Klan Stands for 100 Per Cent Americanism," brought forth an applause from the crowd. Another banner which read, "Mr. Bootlegger, Your Days Are Numbered," was lustily cheered. A float representing a school house had a banner on each side with the inscription: "The Hope of America. We Want Protestant Teachers in Our Schools." This float was roundly cheered by the Protestants, who composed ninety per cent of the crowd. The banner which provoked the most mirth was the one carried at the rear of the procession. It read:
"Someone page Governor Slydell."
"Pat McBryan needs the smelling salts."
The crowd went wild. Hennesy had stood in the door of his place of business and watched the entire parade. When the last of the white robed marchers had passed he took out his handkerchief and wiped the cold sweat from his face. Two negroes who had watched the parade from the alley walked farther down the alley from the lights and engaged in earnest conversation. They were bootleggers and for years had been doing a thriving business, carrying their goods on their hips. "Mose," said Pete, "what you all think of these damn Kluxers?"
"Pete," replied Mose, in a suppressed tone, "you's mighty ca'less of that isthmus of youse."
"Niggah, what youse mean by 'isthmus'?"
"Ma go'graphy sa'd that an isthmus is a narrow neck connectin' two la'ger bodies."
"Well, what you mean 'bout me bein' ca'less of my isthmus?"