KU KLUX KLAN

Southland Times, Issue 18965, 13 June 1923, Page 6

KU KLUX KLAN

“CIRCLE OF THE FIERY CROSS.” GRIM STORY OF TERRORISTIC METHODS. The Klan is out! Often have these words rung out through the corn-brakes and across the prairies of the Southern States of America, striking terror into the hearts of those whose consciences gave them reason to dread a secret society' which, by its methods and power, has set its mark not only in the annals of crime, but in the history of a great country—the Ku Klux Klan. To many that cry has been a death-warn-ing, telling them that the Klan with its masked riders were abroad, that its “Circle of the Fiery Cross” was ready to dispense its idea of justice, and that a fearful end awaited some poor wretch against whom the decree of the Klan had gone forth. In every country, in every time, there have existed secret societies—bodies of individuals banded together for a purpose, good or evil requiring numbers and cooperation in its execution. In almost every case, secret societies that have made their name known in history have been founded with the best of intentions. It may have been the righting of some political wrong, the upholding of old traditions, the cleansing of a country’s justice, but in the end these high aims have been forgotten; the machinery of the organisation has fallen into corrupt hands, and the machinations of the secret society been put to criminal ends. This is the case with the notorious Ku Klux Klan, which of all the great secret societies the world has known is, perhaps, the most romantic in its setting. THE KLAN’S ENORMOUS POWERS The Ku Klux Klan came into being after the Civil War in the United States, and was instituted by the white people of the South as a measure of protection against the negroes, who, liberated from slavery by the war, not only bid fair to out-vote their masters, but with their arrogance and numbers threatened to make life impossible for all white people in the Southern States. The idea of a secret society as embodied in the Ku Klux Klan spread rapidly. In all parts of the South planters, soldiers, lawyers, doctors —in fact, men from all classes and walks of life hastened to enroll themselves.

Soon the effect was felt, and it was but needful to mention the words of Ku Klux Klan or draw upon a gatepost the emblem of the “Fiery Cross”—that emblem with which the Klan embellished the masks and cloaks with which they concealed their identity—to strike fear into the hearts of all who had reason to suspect the enmity of this terrible secret power. The Klan still wields enormous . power. Of late months its activities have increased; again and again, some one has opposed the wishes of the Klan disobeyed its orders, or been guilty of behaviour of which the society considers that it must take notice. Then the masked riders of the night have gone forth, surrounded the house of the offender, and dragged him forth to stand his trial before the implaccable “Circle of the Fiery Cross.” No man had more reason to fear the anger of the Klan than Alan Creich. This man was by trade a general storekeeper, of Williamson Creek. Though by day he was a law-abiding citizen, thought by all his neighbours an exemplary man, by night he was the friend of criminals, a receiver of stolen goods, a master of negro‘robbers.

For months he had carried on his secret trade, dropping deeper and deeper into crime, but all the time, at heart, living in fear of the Klan, whose rough justice he knew only too well. But time went on, and Alan prospered at his nefarious trade. It seemed as if he were one of the very few who had missed the attention of the Klan, as by stealth they went about at night searching for wrongdoers and the enemies of the white people. If Creich had only known! He had long been marked down for attention of the Klan. They knew the trade he carried on at night well enough, but bided their time till the utmost evidence could be obtained. Had Creich but known it, those citizens of Williamson Creek—that doctor, that lawyer, that farmer —who patronised his store passed the t'ime of day with him, and seemed so care-free, comprised the very men who at night, clad from head to foot in the weird dress of the Klan, seized their captives by armed force and bore them away to the thunder of a hundred hoofs to the rough, but swift justice of the “Circle of the Fiery Cross.” NEVER A THIRD WARNING.

The blow fell at last. Returning from nocthrnal adventure, his saddle-bags loaded with ill-gotten gain, the light of Creich’s lantern shone on a message of death, fastened to his stable door by the blade of a dagger. The Klan had spoken at last! “Alan Creich,” ran the message. “Disobedience of the order of the Klan is punishable with death. Beware the Fiery Cross.” In a flash the mind of the criminal flew back to an incident of but two weeks previously, when a neighbour—an old friend, as he thought—had advised him to keep his bed anights. At the time Creich had thought the man joking or giving a friendly bit of health advice. But now, in the light of this warning, the trivial incident was magnified into its true importance. Two warnings! The Klan never gave a third. Another step against their wishes would bring, their masked horsemen to his door. With trembling fingers Alan Creich took down the message of the Klan. Its words, roughly written on a torn scrap of paper, were clear enough to his eyes; they burnt their meaning into his brain. Turning away, he stumbled into the house—a man broken with fear. But though Creich endeavoured to reform, gave up for a time his night trips, his consorting with criminals, and strove Jo make clear to his unknown watchers that he was obeying their commands, he had so entangled himself in crime that he found it impossible to retrace his steps. His associates, the thieves from whom he had been in the habit of purchasing the proceeds of their misdeeds, the hold-up men with stolen jewellery, and all the others, big and small, who relied on him, swore that he must stand by them or perish. Unhappy man! On one side confederetes forcing him into crime; on the other the secret guardians of the peace, with mysterious eyes that seemed to pierce into the secrets of the soul, waiting for that one further lapse to bring him to trial and doom. THE FATAL STEP.

Vengeance fell upon Creich. There came to him one night a negro, loaded with the proceeds of a far-off robbery. All seemed secure; no one had seen him enter; a profitable deal was hard to turn away. Creich bought the stuff and secreted it in his cellar. But the fear which then fell upon his life was no little tribute to the power of the Klan. By night, by day, Creich now suffered the agonies of dread. ' A step upon the stair, a stamping of horses’ hoofs without his door, a sudden word, a whisper of the wind—all seemed to the guilty man the summons to appear before the tribunal of that brotherhood of vengeance—the Ku Klux Klan. He suspected everyone; hardly dared to look his neighbours in the face; could not sleep at night for thinking he heard the coming of the night-riders. His apprehensions were justified. Agents of the Ku Klux Klan had been watching unceasingly the goings and comings of all connected with Creich; they had seen the entry of a well-known thief; they had afterwards wormed from him the history of his dealings with the suspected man, and now all was ready for the final act. Night! The distant sound of galloping horses —the thunder of their approach—a shout —Creich’s house is surrounded by hooded men.

Starting from his bed, the guilty man rushed to the window. On all sides he saw the terrible figuree of the men of the Klan.

They sat their horses, immovable, revolvers drawn, the flash of their eyes from beneath their peaked hoods just visible in the gloom. This way, that way, looked the fear-stricken man. Not a loophole of escape could he see. THE SCENE OF TRIAL. Then came the hammering at the door; a revolver shot as the lock was blown away; cries of “Come down, Alan Creich, come!” Whimpering behind a curtain they found him, bound him hand and foot, mounted him on horseback, and took him away. On either side, not deigning to glance at their captive, rode two of the masked riders, silent, im place able as death. To cries for mercy, appeals for assistance, to prayers to the God he had so long forgotten, there came no response. Far away into the swamps the men of the Klan in silence bore Alan Creich. Soon in the distance could be seen bodies of otfier horsemen, all hooded as the rest, converging to a point, the rallying place for the trial. Still without words, the riders joined together and formed themselves into a circle, in the centre of which stood the two guardians and the bound man. Suddenly the darkness was torn with a burst of flame from within the grim circle. Fire leapt up to the heavens, ran this way and that. There, before the eyes of Creich, blazed the sign of the Fiery Cross—that cross that had been so often the last sight on earth the eyes of the enemies of the Klan had witnessed. Almost overcome with terror, he fell forward on his horse’s neck, but was roughly pullejl up by his guardians, and told in subdued, but determined, words to hold himself in readiness for the trial. CIRCLE OF THE FIERY CROSS. Rough justice was meted out. Creich was called upon by the leader of the Klan to say what he could in extenuation of his crimes. Other members, when Creich had made his pitiful appeals for mercy, recounted the evidence they had collected as to his dealings with thieves and other enemies of the Klan.

Proof was made that he had received the due warnings of the vengeance to be expected for disobeying the secret watchers of the night, and lastly there was brought out, trembling with fear even more than Creich, the very man from whom the last purchase of stolen goods had been made. The facts of the case we know; but it is only possible to imagine the feelings of the unhappy man, thus surrounded by hooded forme, their eyes reflecting back the gleam of the burning cross, and not one hope of mercy showing in any. The result of the trial was a foregone conclusion. There was no doubt as to the man’s guilt; “Death” was the vote of each member of the circle in turn. The Klan had some ideas of justice; of mercy, none. Creich was bluntly informed of the decision of the circle, and that execution would take place forthwith. Bound though he was, Creich struggled violently; but not one second longer of life was vouchsafed him on that account. Torn from his horse, his legs bound, his eyes blindfolded, he was borne away. Whither? Through the low brush his captors took him. Then slowly, carefully feeling their way, they bore him into the midst of the swamps by a path known only to the members of the secret brotherhood. The place of execution reached, they bade him pray. But “Mercy!” was all the fear-stricken lips could say. Creich was raised up between two powerful men. Back, forth, they swung him. Then a splash—a frightful cry. Creich vanished in the slime. He sank immediately, and but a few bubbles rising to the surface of the black morass signified the terrible death agonies he must have suffered. POLICE WERE POWERLESS. As time went on need for the existence of the Ku Klux Klan disappeared, but, none-the-less, certain individuals kept up the form of the secret society for their own purposes—unworthy ones. They themselves committed the crimes which the Klan was intended to punish. In the days when the Klan was on the side of justice the police authorities had been powerless to deal with it, as were also troops sent by the Government of the United States to stamp out those who had seized the prerogatives of Washington, for the reason that in hundreds of cases the men sent against the Klan were themselves members. Of late, the Klan has, however, been resuscitated with some of its old ideals as guide; the Fiery Cross has again blazed out in the Southern States, and justice of a kind meted out to wrong-doers who have escaped the attention of the law. A few weeks ago a hotel porter in a small city of Alabama was tried by the circle and found guilty of an offence against a woman. His punishment took the form of whipping and the branding of the letter “K” with acid upon his forehead, that he might be a warning to all wrong-doers—a living witness to the power of the Ku Klux Klan.