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Authors: Michael Moorcock

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical

The Laughter of Carthage (56 page)

BOOK: The Laughter of Carthage
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My idealism, my honest spontaneity, impressed every man aboard. I sat down to sustained applause. My accent, normally a matter of suspicion, was confirmation of my integrity and proof of their own Christian tolerance. I had no selfish reason for holding my opinions and this gave my words extra meaning. I felt I had found my own at last. The Grand Kladd acknowledged my stirring testament. I was so elated I hardly noticed when the Kladd began the ordinary reports of the meeting. Klan recruiting was proving enormously successful in all Realms, particularly the Western and Mid-Western heartland, where Klansmen or Klan-backed candidates held many important offices. They remained misunderstood, savagely resisted in places, but their strength grew daily. I was impressed by their trust in allowing me to be present at these secret speeches, particularly when the Grand Klokard rose to report on the various prominent men who could be relied upon. ‘Elections come up all the time. And we’re taking them. Next year, for instance, when Memphis holds her elections we’ll win across the board. We’ve already picked candidates for State elections. Our momentum simply can’t be stopped. Membership counts in millions while millions more will vote Klan. Republican and Democrat candidates are being prepared by us for the Presidency itself. Within five years a Klansman could be our nation’s Chief.’

 

This last piece of news was as novel and as exciting to those on the floor as it was to me. I now realised why this particular Klonverse was so important. Both funds and morale had to be raised to embark upon an important new phase in the Klan’s political programme. From the crowd stepped a Grand Cyclops who announced his rank and Realm. He was in accord with all that had been said. However he was unhappy about bad publicity which could lose the Klan key elections. Certain members had taken the white hood merely to fulfil personal vendettas. Twice in Missouri recently Klansmen had shot to death members of families with whom they had feuded for years. ‘Even the niggers have rights. I know of a case where a nigger girl and her father got killed on account of her having a Klansman’s child. These iniquities, however rare, are fuel for the alien-backed press. They’re blown out of all proportion by our political enemies. I believe the Imperial Wizard should issue an edict banishing transgressors from the Klan. If he doesn’t, we’ll lose support when and where we need it most.’

 

Raising a purple- and gold-trimmed arm, the Imperial Wizard showed his willingness to reply. ‘Wouldn’t you agree that what’s appropriate for Massachusetts, Brother Cyclops, isn’t necessarily okay for Texas?’ His accent was slow and reasonable. ‘Those people have specific and serious problems out there. The same goes for California with her Jap farmers. If some of our boys brand or whip the people who step out of line - and I don’t say I approve - it could be it’s the only way, in that part of the country, that makes sense. I’m sure none of us here bears any man ill-will, irrespective of his race, colour or creed. But we must never forget the fundamental reasons for our Order being reborn that fateful night on Stone Mountain, Georgia, seven years ago. We have to bear in mind what attracts ordinary folk to our Order. We’ve shown we’re prepared to take action which others are afraid to take. In defence of a decent Christian way of life, we must always be prepared to take up arms when the occasion demands. Fear has to be a weapon in our arsenal as much as conviction or faith. It’s our duty to set an example.’

 

A grey Klansman raised his hand for the Klonvener’s attention. ‘I say we can’t compromise Christian principles in order to win a few liberal votes.’

 

‘Exactly so.’ The Imperial Wizard approved this attitude.

 

A Grand Klabee from Iowa spoke next. ‘If a Klansman is to become next President of the USA, we have to condemn mob violence wherever it occurs!’

 

There was a pause, a certain tension, before the Imperial Wizard answered with measured dignity. ‘That is also true. Today it’s within our power to elect half the country’s Governors, maybe more. Since I’ve been organising this Order we’ve risen in three years from a membership of a few thousand to a force large enough to make Washington think twice.’

 

Near the back of the floating hall a voice cried: ‘That’s a fact!’

 

Graciously, the Imperial Wizard acknowledged this, adding: ‘We must also acknowledge the redoubtable efforts of Mrs Mawgan in the membership drive.’

 

The Grand Kladd motioned from where he sat on the far side of the stage. As he got up the boat shuddered, perceptibly altering course. ‘I’d be the first to agree. The Imperial Wizard and Mrs Mawgan came up with a damned near foolproof method of swelling the ranks. This puts money into our campaign chests and like it or not that’s our prime consideration here. Until we can elect both Republican and Democrat presidential candidates, preferably on an open Klan ticket, we might as well be throwing shit at a dungheap.’

 

‘We are Americans!’ The Imperial Wizard’s dramatic tenor cut through the general murmur. ‘We have a fundamental belief in democratic processes, the cornerstone of our nation. That means winning votes. Votes cost money, particularly when it comes to nominations. We must have strong candidates. Men above reproach. True white men to speak up for our principles and our religion. The men we need do not come cheap. We need the nickels and dimes of every possible member.’

 

The Iowan Grand Klabee replied forcefully. ‘The men you want are the very people who draw the line at nightriding and lynching. By restraining the rougher elements now we’ll soon be able to have our own judges and police chiefs. They’ll do what we do now as vigilantes. I say we should have no truck with the branding-iron boys. Use your power to cancel or suspend their charters. Then tell the press. Look at how many join the Klan for business reasons. Insurance salesmen, storekeepers, bankers, factory owners, all kinds of solidly respectable men. Educated men. How long will they stay with us if they believe too many wear the white hood simply because they’re outside the Law?’

 

‘The mask makes us equal,’ said Grand Klaliff from the shadows. ‘An insurance clerk has as much anger, as much wish to right a wrong as a fieldhand. A banker enjoys the thrill of the nightride as much as any blacksmith. You’re underestimating how many approved of what our boys did in Harrison last year but would never say so right out. We smashed that strike and run that so-called Methodist out of town. Ninety-nine percent of Arkansas was behind us.’

 

‘Washington’s more important.’ Another Grand Cyclops stepped from the ranks, gesturing urgently. ‘Blood likes money, but money don’t like blood.’

 

Suddenly Major Sinclair was on his feet. ‘Remember why we exist, sir. If we ever forget that we are primarily the protectors of the White Race we might as well disband this minute. We must be seen to be firm, strong, right minded. I joined this brotherhood in the early days, in Atlanta, because our women were threatened on the street, leered at by niggers and aliens. I will not live to see my children seduced into a life of drudgery by marriage to a money grubbing Jew, persuaded into renouncing their religion by some Jesuitical jazz baby. Surely, gentlemen, I need say no more!’He was enthusiastically applauded and the Imperial Wizard said soberly, ‘Thank you, Grand Dragon. I think you speak for all.’ But even this did not completely silence the approving grunts, the occasional shout or whoop from individual Klansmen. I felt immediate comradeship with these people and their direct, honest habits of speech and action. Idealistic principle has always moved me deeply, wherever it manifests itself. Had it been appropriate, I know I would also have leapt to my feet and clapped.

 

The Imperial Wizard was stern. ‘No man has ever cast doubt on my dedication, nor on my ability to build this Order into the power it has become. When Colonel Simmons made me responsible for running the Klan it was in full knowledge of my faith in his ideals. He will tell you so himself when he returns from his well deserved rest and stands amongst us as our Emperor. Colonel Simmons wrote the book by which we all stand or fall, our great Kloran. I swear by that book, or by the Holy Bible itself: he’ll endorse all I’ve done and all I shall do. For now I beg you to tolerate our more exuberant brothers. And I agree we must use subtler means wherever possible.’

 

In clipped New England accents another Grand Dragon endorsed this. ‘I don’t believe anyone here doubts Colonel Simmons’s faith in our Imperial Wizard.’ He hoped to reduce tension, though I saw no harm in their debate. King Arthur’s Court, after all, was not without its disagreements. That subject was brought to a close and the atmosphere became more relaxed. The Imperial Kladd spoke next. ‘While the Imperial Klabee makes his financial report, some dignitaries must leave you for a short while to discuss certain matters raised here tonight.’ At this Major Sinclair signed to me and we followed the Imperial Wizard through the side door to the little dressing-room. Here the leader let out a long sigh as he removed his conical headdress. ‘These things get awful stuffy, even in winter.’ He smiled for my benefit, extending a well kept hand. ‘Thanks for coming, colonel. I’ve heard all about you. I’m Eddy Clarke. I gather you’re a drinking man.’

 

I told him I drank moderately.

 

‘Then let’s all revive ourselves in my cabin.’ He was slim and graceful. His cultured, intellectual manner gave the lie to those who depicted Klansmen as brutes with unshaven jaws. Horn-rimmed glasses and dark curly hair lent him the appearance of an academic from some dreamy campus rather than a powerful political force. His easy charm demonstrated how he had achieved much of his success. He had joined the Klan as its recruiting Kleagle in 1920. Now he was effective leader. Colonel Simmons, a romantic and noble old Southerner, lacked enough political ambition to make the Klan the genuine threat it now was, but ‘that fateful night on Stone Mountain’ when he had gathered a few fellow spirits together to re-form the Knights of the Fiery Cross again was still recognised as the most important moment in the movement’s history.

 

The Imperial Wizard’s stateroom was at the forward end of the boat where the vibrations were less pronounced. He crossed to the wall, pressed a secret button and revealed a small cabinet of good-quality alcohol. ‘This is part of the service, apparently, when you rent the boat.’ I accepted a straight vodka. The American habit of adulterating drinks so they taste like soda-pop never transmitted itself to me. Major Sinclair and Mr Clarke both had rye whiskey. We raised our glasses in a toast. ‘Here’s to a long and profitable association, colonel.’ Clarke was openly enthusiastic. ‘I was mighty taken by what you said and how you put it across. From the horse’s mouth. It was well worth the risk of inviting you. This Klonverse, you probably realise, is especially significant to us. What’s more it was a good chance for our top people from all over to get a good look at you. Now you, in turn, have a good understanding I’m sure of our specific ambitions and problems.’

 

He spoke calmly but significantly. This was not merely an amiable discussion. He was almost courting me, treating me, I sensed, with unusual respect. ‘You know my admiration for the Klan, Mr Clarke. While still in Europe I was fired by the dedication and courage of your Knights. Though she surely needs it, Europe has nothing to compare with your Order.’ I spoke sincerely, yet was curious to know what he wanted from me.

 

Clarke refilled our glasses. ‘We’ve a large and constantly expanding membership, Colonel Peterson. In certain States it has a preponderance of what they call “poor whites”. Doubtless you noticed there’s pressure on me to discipline folks who go a little too far in their enthusiasm. I’m reluctant. My answer is to strive with every means at my disposal to attract the better class of citizen who presently supports us in spirit but not in deed. To go forward as a real political power we have to win over that class and its finances. Do you follow me?’

 

‘Given the record of the Klan in handling strikes, I’m surprised you don’t have more large industrialists funding you already. Your interests are surely identical. It can only be bad press which makes them hesitate.’ I hoped this assessment seemed intelligent.

 

‘In a nutshell. Colonel Peterson.’ Mr Clarke clapped Major Sinclair on the shoulder. ‘You were right about this man, Al. I’m beholden to you.’ He turned to me again. ‘That’s why we want to sponsor you, colonel. To make a nationwide lecture tour. Every newspaper in every town you visited would report your words. I’ve read the Memphis papers. You have a fascinating reputation. You speak with authority as one daily exposed to the terror of unchecked alienism. Respectable, intelligent, well to do people would listen to you. A distinguished professor, with no axe to grind in American politics, your quiet support of the Klan could prove invaluable to us in our recruiting drive. We would propose to fund you indirectly. The fees would be generous and all travel accommodation and so forth would be first-class. The Klan can be an implacable enemy -’ he paused and I wondered if this were some sort of warning to me ‘- but it is a loyal friend.’

 

Naturally I was gratified. His offer could be of substantial use in improving my status. Sadly, I thought, it conflicted with my desire to oversee our Memphis aerodrome and aircraft scheme. Yet there were many advantages to forming an association with so powerful a political group. It could mean ultimate security for Esmé and me, perhaps the important government position I so much deserved. For this reason I did not refuse point-blank. ‘I’m flattered, sir. However, I have pressing business interests at present, so would be grateful for a few days to consider your proposal.’

BOOK: The Laughter of Carthage
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