“Oh, ‘kuklos’! That’s Greek for circle,” said Hamilton.
“Oh, everyone has heard of the Ku Klux Klan,” put in the advertising man. “We even read about it in our histories, dad.”
“Well, that’s the same Klan, and I was one of the first members. Well, our first object was just to have a little fun, a little mystery to keep the other folks guessing. Then, by accident, someone discovered that if you wanted to scare a nigger into doing what you wanted him to do, all you had to do was to dress up in a sheet like a ghost.
“We scared a few bad niggers. You should have seen our rigs. White masks, high cardboard hats, long white robes. And we had a white cover for our horses and padded their feet. The best fun, of course, was the initiations. But that’s all secret.” He chuckled at the memory.
“Soon other Klans were started around Pulaski. By an’ by Tennessee, and then the entire South was covered with them. So by the time the reconstruction acts o’ ’67 were passed, we had a right smart of a military organization. Why, sir, the niggers, the old slaves, were in the state militia and we had to walk between rows of their bayonets to get at the voting polls. They and the Northern carpetbaggers stuffed the ballot boxes and won over the state and city government. And there were a few scalawags from the South that joined ’em. We had organized just for fun. But as soon as the niggers and carpetbaggers began making our laws and robbin’ the public treasury, the Klan spread like wildfire over the entire South. And like organizations were also formed. Knights of the White Camellia was one, Pale Faces, White Leaguers.”
“Trick Track Tribe,” suggested Hamilton.
“Yes, that was one of ’em. But they all had one purpose—to uphold the supremacy of the white race.”
“Well, you made a good job of it,” said someone. The old gentleman was getting winded.
“Yes, we did. Tar and feathers. Public hangings. A few judicious notes o’ warnin’. We put the fear o’ God and respect for law and order in their souls. It might not of been strictly ethical, but it worked in its day, and if ever the niggers start kickin’ up a rumpus, the same thing can be used against ’em again.”
The Jewish drummer took out another cigar and cut off the end with a little gold cigar-cutter attached to a chain and Robert knew that he would have to bide his time. The old gentleman’s words had given him moral confirmation. Not that he needed it, exactly, but it established the Tribe as of honorable tradition, an institution of which any Southerner could be proud. He wished that the Jewish drummer would go, or at least that he would get a chance to talk to the old Klansman alone. When the latter, therefore, excused himself to return to his seat because the smoke was getting too thick for his lungs, Robert followed him.