"This story tells about the events which led up to the burning of the Barren River Baptist Church in Bowling Green Kentucky in the early morning hours of December 6, 1991 ... The history of the Klan is discussed as well as the secret symbolysm [sic], meetings, and ceremonies.--P. [4] of cover.
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PROLOGUE..................................................................................XIPART I - DISCOVERING THE KLANChapter One Rumors and Myths: The Fear and Lure of The White Knights.....................1Chapter Two Meeting The Wizard...........................................................4Chapter Three Attending a Meeting........................................................9Chapter Four Sign Me Up..................................................................13PART II - ACCEPTANCEChapter Five Learning Some History.......................................................16Chapter Six Gaining Trust................................................................20Chapter Seven The Tompkinsville Pipeline.................................................25Chapter Eight Making Inroads.............................................................30PART III - THE RIDE TO THE TOPChapter Nine Shot Down In Cold Blood.....................................................34Chapter Ten Meeting My Nemesis...........................................................37Chapter Eleven Volunteering To Act.......................................................40Chapter Twelve Making Grand Dragon.......................................................44PART IV - APEX OF POWERChapter Thirteen Learning Secrets........................................................46Chapter Fourteen Coalition with The Skinheads, or Not?...................................49Chapter Fifteen The Rally................................................................56Chapter Sixteen Something Must Be done...................................................59PART V - BETRAYALChapter Seventeen Disobeying Orders......................................................68Chapter Eighteen No Honor Among Thieves..................................................71Chapter Nineteen Pressure to Cooperate...................................................75Chapter Twenty Betrayal At The Top.......................................................78Epiloge...................................................................................82Appendix..................................................................................84
In south-central Kentucky where I was raised until my early teens, the rumors of the Ku Klux Klan run rampant. They are believed to be all around you, yet unidentifiable, even aloof from the every day activities of local inhabitants. They are almost like spirits that hover, invisibly, to see every move you make. It is not something a man thinks about all the time, but occasionally, when the subject comes up in casual conversation, the feeling that they are out there, somewhere, collecting together secretly to impose punishment for transgressions, comes over you like a wet blanket.
Who they are, and where they might be, is beyond the common resident. Unless you are a part of them, you simply do not know who they are, where they live, or what they intend to do at any given time. They have always been known to appear out of nowhere, mass together to inflict some social disorder, and then disappear as quickly as they came. To the outside observer, they seem to have a collective magical power.
I first heard the myths surrounding the Klan as a child on my parent's farm in Bowling Green, Kentucky. My father had bought the place in 1974, and went into business as a small part time farmer. Because there was so much work to be done, he hired numerous seasonal workers to put up fences, level ground, and harvest the various crops that we grew each year. It was from these locals, mostly ex-convicts that I acquired much of my working knowledge about my community, particularly the Klan.
Charles, a thirty year old worker and his brother were there one hot summer day relaxing after our noon lunch break. We were sitting under two large cedar trees just off the back part of the main house. They had been employees of my father for as long as I could remember, and were a couple of my favorites. I didn't mind at all that they were a little slow. It was that disability which prevented them from holding a decent paying job for any length of time, making farm work their most stable profession.
We had finished eating our bologna sandwiches, washing them down with lemonade when Charlie and his brother began talking about the Klan. How the subject was brought up, I can't recall. I think it must have been some event involving the KKK, perhaps, with hindsight, a march or rally. Instantly my ears perked up, this was something that always had my attention even at seven years of age. I paid close attention to everything any adult said around me. In fact, at that age, a seven year old couldn't wait to grow up and become an adult who had all this vast knowledge they shared so freely around me.
"Remember when they hung them three niggers down't Russellville," Charlie said to his brother. "They wuz messin' with them white girls, an' didn't stop when they was told to." "Hung 'em in the yard, didn't they?" his brother said. "Yep, All three of 'em. Musta been, around sixty-three or so", Charlie replied. "That's what I'm a-thinkin'. Ain't been no niggers fooling' with any white girls down there since, I knowed of," said his brother.
"There wuz a bunch of 'em round here too. Cept ain't nobody knows who they is. Some of 'em is lawyers, doctors, even judges. I reckin' all the damn law is Klan," Charlie continued.
I knew where Russellville was. My dad had driven me all over the area. He was in construction and would take me with him on some of his excavation job sites. Whenever I rode with him to Russellville I would ask him how long it was going to take to get there, and he would answer me in minutes, so I figured it was probably about thirty minutes away from our farm.
I had never given any thought to interracial relations, or the Klan, and I had never considered that the important people in our town were members. Like others, I had seen the movies which showed the Klan burning houses and lighting crosses. At seven years old, I had believed the Klan lived in the deep South which to me was on the other side of the world, not in the same place I lived. Charlie and his brother said they lived here, right here, and that left me with an uneasy feeling, a prelude to my future.
Years went by and we all grew up. Through these years I would often hear more and more about the Klan. It was just a little here and a little there, like, "hey did you know that his dad is in the KKK", or "I saw him going down that road where the KKK go", but you didn't really know if the rumors were true or not. It was those type of rumors, together with sketchy history taught in school that gave me the mythical impression of the KKK.
Looking back, I believe the impression I had was the result of what I believed to be "white guilt." All the history classes I had taken in school mysteriously omitted discussions of the KKK, treating it like a blemish on our past which should be forgotten, not studied. From this result, my education about this group came solely from rumors and backyard stories. I never found the truth about the KKK and was forced to accept the stories. I know now that even the black children knew about as...
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