The Governor's Sons (25 page)

Ash gave Harland to Betty Jean, then quickly left the apartment before completely breaking down.
 
Nearly blinded by tears, he approached his car and opened the door.
 
But when the sad eyed panda caught his gaze, Ash lost what little composure he had and crumpled to his seat.
 
After crossing his arms over the steering wheel, he buried his head in them and cried.

Several minutes passed before Ash raised his eyes, and when he did, a little Negro boy, suited up in a baseball uniform, stood staring quietly at him through the open car window.
 
But the boy ran off as soon as Ash saw him.

Ash, slumped in his seat, thinking about Harland’s future, and how he wouldn’t be a part of it.
 
Feeling defeated, he remained still for several moments.
 
Finally, Ash took a deep breath and
 
drove back to Clarkstown.

****

Life would go on for Ash without Kitty, and now without Harland, he reflected, while driving past Simpson Leggett’s austere white columned campus toward his apartment a few blocks away.
 
Although he’d pursue his political ambitions, he’d do his best to honor the promise he’d made to Kitty, especially for Harland’s sake.

Harland would grow up in a different state, but perhaps as governor here, Ash could be a catalyst for racial change throughout the entire South.

But how easily could Ash accomplish this?
 
Breaking down racial barriers would be a threat to his power.
 
Ash couldn’t think about that now.
 
Struggling with his losses, he could only take things one day at a time.

However, one plaguing thought wouldn’t go away.
 
Kitty gave up everything for him.
 
As governor, what would he be willing to give up for her?

Clarkstown, State Capital City, 1964

“I can get all kinds of information from him--
and
he’s receptive to the Cause.”
 
Libby Willis spoke quietly into the pay phone.
 
It was late; no one was around to see her.
 
She stood in a park near a large lit clock.
 
It was well past midnight.

“Your contact will be an asset with those strong political ties,” the raspy voice said at the other end of the line.
 
No one knew the identity of the mysterious voice, but he called himself “Number One,” because all the Organization’s assignments started through him. “And what about the boy, as a direct link to the Governor, do you think
he’ll
be receptive?”

Libby tucked a clump of dark hair behind her ear. “Possibly, because of the uncle’s influence.”

Number One took a deep breath.
 
“What you’re doing is dangerous, and who you’re dealing with could cause serious problems if things aren’t executed exactly as planned.
 
Be careful, Libby, and keep up the good work.”

“You’ll make sure that I’m placed in leadership because of this, right?”

“Perhaps, but I can’t guarantee it.
 
It all depends on how much you can accomplish.
 
But leadership in the Organization really isn’t a place for a woman.”

“Neither is what I’m doing now--but I get results!”

Number One didn’t respond immediately.
 
“You’re a valiant foot soldier and we need more like you.
 
I’ll be in touch soon with plans for the next action.
 
Goodbye, Libby.”

Summer, 1965

“Damn it!
 
Damn it!
 
How’s this gonna make us look to the rest of the country?” Ash exclaimed to Clarkstowns’s Chief of Police, Jeb Hawkins.
 
“I’ll tell you how!
 
Like a bunch of damn barbarians!”
 

Police officers, County Sheriff’s deputies, and FBI agents swarmed the secluded woods.
 
In the darkness, bright headlights glared and blue and red sirens flashed. “This is unacceptable!”

Over the past six months violence had erupted in Clarkstown, the state capital city, and as Governor, Ash had asked to be notified immediately of any disturbances that occurred.
 
But this was more than a disturbance.

What happened tonight could hardly compare to the minor fires set at the Colored high school and elementary school.
 
And this wasn’t at all like the small explosions set at the Synagogue, the local NAACP headquarters, and the town paper.
 
The Clarkstown Enquirer
was targeted because it failed to write anything promoting racism and continued segregation.
 
But no one had been killed in those mildly violent actions, and some hate group that called itself The White Knights of Righteousness had claimed responsibility.

Ash believed this couldn’t be the same group.
 
As of yet, nothing had been found to determine responsibility.
 
The FBI had suspected from the start that violence in Clarkstown would only escalate.
 
Unfortunately, this atrocity fit the description of something carried off by the Ku Klux Klan.
 
This type of terrorist activity was atypical to Ash’s state.
 
This wasn’t Mississippi, Ash thought, and this wasn’t Alabama.
 
First the White Knights had infiltrated his state, and now a more deadly breed followed.

The smell of burned flesh still lingered in the air.
 
“We can’t have a bunch of murderers running around with pajamas on their heads killing people!” Ash said to the lumbering Police Chief Hawkins, who nodded in agreement.

Hawkins wiped sweat from his bald head. “The worst the Klan used to do around these parts was a few marches.”
 
He spat out a long string of tobacco juice.
 
“The last one was done maybe around 1956.
 
There hasn’t been a lynching in the entire state since 1921.”
 
An FBI agent signaled for the Chief.
 
Hawkins excused himself and rushed off.

Ash shook his head.
 
There was too much Civil Rights unrest all over the South, all over the country for that matter, but things like this didn’t happen here, not in his state.

A wiry young man with a notepad cornered Ash. “Governor Kroth.”
 
A cigarette bobbed between his lips.
 
“I’m Dennis Lackey from
The Clarkstown Enquirer
,” he spoke with rapid fire speech. “We want a statement from you regarding this tragedy
.
”

Ash was drained.
 
It was around 5:00 in the morning, but he’d received the phone call a couple of
 
hours earlier. A mother and daughter had been lynched, and then their bodies burned.
 
The father, Willie Cane, had been killed, but not lynched.
 
He’d been bound and forced to watch his wife and daughter tortured before he was beaten and left for dead.

A Negro vagrant, hiding in the woods, had witnessed everything, and reported it to the police. The Cane family had been brought out here by force and murdered by a group of men in white robes and hoods.

Ash was called to the crime scene shortly after the police.
 
After finding an isolated place to vomit, he’d cried for a few moments.
 
But he hadn’t been the only grown man to shed tears as that little girl’s body, along with her mother’s, were removed from the twisted tree limbs. As he’d walked back to the crime scene, Ash wiped away his tears so he could man up and put on the brave face of a leader.

“Governor Kroth,” the reporter said again, “your statement.”

Ash cleared his throat.
 
“First of all I want to extend my deepest sympathies to the relatives of the Cane family.
 
The Police, and the County Sherriff, along with the FBI are on the case.
 
And I will do everything in my power to ensure the safety and protection of
all
citizens in our great.
 
I will not tolerate terrorist activity of any kind under my administration.”
 
The reporter scribbled quickly on his notepad.
 
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Ash said, “I’ll be glad to talk to you again tomorrow when I know more about the case.”

One Week Later

Ash noticed his youngest daughter glaring at him.
 
With one eye squinted and the opposite brow raised, Ash knew that any moment, Leigh Ann would rip into him for something.

“It’s all
your
fault, you know!”
 
Leigh Ann said angrily.
 
Without removing her gaze from her father’s, she tossed thick auburn locks over her shoulder.

Ash blew out a deep breath.
 
He sat at the head of the table in the private dining room of the Governor’s Mansion.
 
His wife and three children were seated with him at the long table.
 
The Governor’s family maintained its private living quarters on the second floor of the 25 room mansion. The State Dining Room, ballroom, formal reception areas, and drawing rooms were situated on the first floor.

What had started as a pleasant Saturday morning breakfast, wouldn’t last that way for long.
 
Leigh Ann sat to Ash’s left; the middle child, the most difficult and flippant of the three.
 
He glanced to his right.
 
JoBeth and Gavin ate quietly.
 
At least they didn’t give him any flack.

Ash tried to repress his exasperation, as he looked at Leigh Ann once more.
 
She wasn’t tall and shapely like JoBeth.
 
Her build was angular, but she was feisty, beautiful and smart.
 
Her defiant hazel eyes bore into his; and they were an exact reflection.
 
Leigh Ann was her father’s spitting image, as well as what he jokingly referred to as his nemesis.

“What’s my fault?” Ash finally asked.

“That—that lynching.”

Charlene gasped. “Leigh Ann, how dare you say something like that to your father?”

“Let her keep goin’, Charlene.” Ash smiled calmly at his wife, who sat at the foot of table.

Mealtimes were always lively in the summers with the kids home from college.
 
Of course, Charlene, pretty blond, perfect political wife that she was, took it upon herself to be “the fixer.”
 
Her mission was to smooth out conflicts and bring a quick, pain free resolution to any problem from kids to Commies.

“So—Leigh Ann,” Ash continued, “tell me how that woman and her little girl being lynched and burned in a tree is my fault.”

“For the past week I’ve been reading newspaper articles about the case.
 
But the most detailed accounts have been in the Colored paper,
The Crier.
You could’ve given more support to Willie Cane, that’s what
The Crier
said.
 
The schools are desegregated, but the Negro children are all but neglected!
 
Willie Cane wanted his daughter treated just like the white kids.
 
And because he spoke up and made a stink about it, look what those crazies did to him--and his whole family!”

“Now, Leigh Ann,” Charlene said, “Willie Cane had a lot of enemies.”

Jo Beth didn’t say anything but nodded in agreement with her mother.
 
Gavin scraped a third helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate.

“Remember that strike he organized at the mill last year,” Charlene said, “and how he got Bobby Kennedy all involved in it?”

“Mom!” Leigh Ann exclaimed. “He
had
to get the Attorney General involved!
 
The Negroes were being discriminated against and not earning nearly as much as the whites.
 
He improved things there, and he thought he could do the same thing for his daughter in the classroom!”

“Well, in my opinion,” Charlene squeezed a lemon wedge into a fresh cup of tea, “I think it would be better for the Negro children to stay segregated.
 
The Negro teachers give them all the time and nurturing they’re not going to get in a white classroom.
 
You can change the laws all you want, but you
can’t
change people’s attitudes.”

“And before all this desegregation business,” Ash said, “I poured a lot of money into those Negro schools.”

Leigh Ann threw her linen napkin on the table. “Oh, come on! Regardless of money, no matter what and no matter where, Negro schools are never gonna be as good as white schools!”

“The Negro schools in our state are the
best
Negro schools in the South!” Ash said.

“Not for Willie Cane’s daughter!
 
He wanted the best for her at a white school--along with equal treatment-- and look what happened to him.
 
Daddy, you could’ve done something!”

“I met with the man,” Ash huffed, “I talked to the teachers!”

“Well,” Leigh Ann crossed her arms, “apparently, that wasn’t enough, was it?
 
Things didn’t change, so he kept talking.
 
Maybe because of what he did at the mill, you could’ve given him some sort of security.
 
A short meeting with Willie Cane and a token visit to the school was one thing, but, I suppose giving him security would’ve looked too much like you supported the man
and
his ideas.”
 
Leigh Ann tipped her head.
 
“What would the masses think of former segregationist Ash Kroth then?”