The Nation's Peril Part 8

On the night of the 16th of June, 1871, two negroes, named John Stanford and Edward Nash, were proceeding to their homes, near Oltewah, Hamilton County, Tennessee, when they were met in the road by some fifteen men armed and disguised, who ordered them to stop. They were then interrogated by the leader of the band as to why they had voted the Radical ticket at the previous election. Stanford replied that they had done it because it was right. One of the band said:

"There's a sting in that ticket, and you may as well have the whole of it," at the same time striking at Stanford with a wooden club.

The latter is a very powerful negro, and having some spirit, resented the attempted injury, dodged the blow, and instantly seizing his a.s.sailant, threw him heavily to the earth. Nash showed fight also, but being a much weaker man, was soon overpowered and pinioned fast. Several of the band seized Stanford, who, from his superior strength, dashed them one side, and darted away, followed by half a dozen of the Klan.

As he ran, he managed to pick up a piece of board in the road with which he turned on his pursuers with the intention of defending himself, when a well-directed shot struck his elbow, shattering the bone, and compelling him to drop the board, and again attempt to save himself by flight. A second shot struck him in the ankle, and impeded his further progress. His pursuers again came up with and secured him, and conveyed him back to where Nash was pleading for his life.

A council was held by the Klan, in which it was decided that the negroes should be severely whipped, and if ever known to again vote the radical ticket, they should die.

Stanford was tied to a tree, his immense strength still being feared by the band, and was beaten until entirely insensible. Nash received a similar castigation. Both the negroes were then untied and placed across the driveway of the road so that a wagon in pa.s.sing would be likely to run over them, unless they should in the mean time become conscious, and get out of the way.

In his desperate struggle with the band, Stanford had displaced one of the masks, which enabled him to recognize a man named Goal Martin, who lived in the vicinity. Upon the statement of these negroes, and from evidence furnished by other corroborating circ.u.mstances, several of the members of the band committing these outrages were arrested and brought to appropriate punishment.

OUTRAGE UPON WILLIAM FLETCHER.

On the night of the 23d of November, 1871, there a.s.sembled in the woods near Cross Plains, Alabama, a band of men armed and disguised as the White Brotherhood. Their persons were enveloped in long white gowns, white masks covered their faces, high white conical hats surmounted their heads, their hands were encased in white gloves, and white stockings were drawn over and completely covered their boots.

The object of this gathering was the punishment of one William Fletcher, a white Unionist and Radical, who had the temerity to vote the Republican ticket, advocate the supremacy of the Government, and aid the officers thereof in the enforcement of the laws. These were crimes in the eyes of the Ku Klux Klan sufficient to warrant their taking the offender in hand.

The customary warning was not sent in this case, but a friendly hand penned a note to Fletcher, informing him of the danger, but this, unfortunately, never reached him.

At the time of the a.s.sembling of the band, as above stated, the "Night Hawks"[1] of the Camp came up with the intelligence that Fletcher was then in a grocery store kept by a man named Flanders, and that it would be better to decoy him out of there, and get him on the road towards the woods, where he could be the more easily mastered.

Fletcher was a cool, resolute and brave man, was supposed to be well armed, and the members of the Klan knew that unless some strategy was used with him, some of their number must suffer the consequences. One of the Klan, named N. G. Scott, was accordingly detailed to decoy Fletcher away.

Scott removed his disguise, and started for the store, followed at a convenient distance by several members of the band. He was successful in his undertaking, and in about twenty minutes he and his intended victim were walking down the road, in the direction of the ambuscade.

In a moment more, the Klan sprang upon and overpowered Fletcher. Pistols were presented at his head, threatenings of death were made if he uttered a cry; a towel was tied tightly across his eyes as a bandage, and he was led away to the woods on the north side of Cross Plains. Upon reaching the woods, his coat and vest were removed, and he was stood up with his face pressed hard against a tree. His arms were drawn around the trunk of the tree, and tied together, and his legs were firmly secured by ropes.

John Yeateman, who had charge of the proceedings of the Klan that night, then stepped forward, and told Fletcher to say his prayers, as he had but a short time to live; that it had first been the intention to give him a whipping and let him go, but that they had now decided to whip him to death.

Fletcher replied by asking if there was no mercy to be accorded him, and inquired to know for what he was to be killed. The only answer to this was that they never gave mercy to the "infernal radicals, who wanted n.i.g.g.e.rs to rule the country." This remark was followed by his shirt being torn completely off his back.

Meantime the "executioners," who had gone for the "rods," returned, and upon the order of their leader fell to their work, cutting the back of the poor victim most dreadfully, and causing him to lose all his stoicism at last, and shriek from the effects of the blows. The "executioners"

becoming exhausted, Yeateman himself seized a knife, and cutting away the garments that encased Fletcher's lower limbs, took a "rod," and commenced beating him about the loins with great ferocity.

Fletcher fainted under the punishment, and as his screams had ceased, Yeateman desisted, remarking, "There's one Radical vote less, by ----."

The band continued consulting together for some time, when, Fletcher being heard to groan, one of the Klan, named James Bierd, said: "He ain't finished yet; I reckon he'd better have the whole of it."

Yeateman then approached the miserable victim, and having succeeded in arousing him to consciousness, asked: "Have you anything to say before you die?"

Fletcher responded faintly, saying: "Write to my mother, Mrs. William Fletcher, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, and say how and why I died." In a moment afterwards he asked: "Is there no chance to live?"

The band consulted together again, when Yeateman said: "There is just one chance for you, and that is that you agree to leave the State in three hours, and never come back."

Fletcher gladly gave the required promise. He was then untied, and two of the band supporting him upon either side, led him to the railroad track.

The bandage was then taken from his eyes, and he was told he must walk on, and that if he looked back, he would be shot. A row of revolvers pointed at him gave evidence that he was not being trifled with, and summoning all the resolution and strength which he could command, he slowly hobbled away.

William Fletcher is no mythical creation. He lives to-day, a scarred and maimed monument of the demoniac brutality that instigated his scourging for opinion's sake; his property destroyed, his health ruined for life, his spirit crushed and broken. The naturally indignant reader will ask if justice has overtaken the miscreants who committed this outrage, and will be gratified to know that it has; and that the princ.i.p.al offenders have felt the weight of the strong arm of the law, now being vigorously enforced throughout the South against the execrable Klan to which they belonged, and in whose interest, and that of bigotry and persecution, they committed this dreadful outrage.

A SIGNIFICANT CONVERSATION.

The preceding stories of wrongs and outrages committed by the Ku Klux Klan, and those that follow, serve in a degree to show the extent to which persecutions for opinion's sake were carried. It was the intention of the leaders to intimidate the ma.s.ses, that further opposition to the principles promulgated by the Ku Klux Klan, or Southern Democracy, should cease altogether. They were wiley enough to see, however, that silence, while it may often give a.s.sent, can rarely be construed as an endors.e.m.e.nt of that which is utterly repugnant to the human heart.

Hence, plans were adopted for the dissemination of principles in violent antagonism to the Government and the Administration. It was not only hinted at that a change of Administration would effect the ends desired by the Ku Klux Orders; but it was openly declared by the bolder ones that such an event would give the South more than it had ever hoped to obtain, even had the war been a success to them instead of to the nation at large.

As an ill.u.s.tration of the feeling of some of these leaders, who were men of property and influence, and owned plantations in the interior, the following conversation is given. This conversation actually occurred upon the Moore plantation, situated upon the Tuscaloosa and Lexington Turnpike.

Moore had been a most uncompromising rebel, and was one of the first to join the Ku Klux Camp in his vicinity. He was continually haranguing his laborers in the interest of Ku Kluxism and democracy, cursing the Government and the Administration, and swearing death to all who upheld them. One of his hands, whom he had but recently employed (September, 1871), said to him:

"What shall we do to break up this cursed Government, and have things as we want them?"

Moore replied: "There is a movement on foot all over the South that will drive every d----d Yankee out of it before long, and give us things all our own way."

"Good," said the laborer, "I'd like to know the programme, and get posted in that thing; I'd take a big hand in it!"

Moore being now convinced that he had the right kind of a tool for the intended work, then said:

"We've got the right thing now to fix all the n.i.g.g.e.rs and Yankees with that don't go as we want them to; we don't care a d---- for the general government. It can go to ----, where it ought to. They may pa.s.s an hundred more Ku Klux bills, and it won't do them a bit of good. The Ku Klux are resting just now; but they are not asleep. They have got the n.i.g.g.e.rs and radicals in pretty good train, so they don't dare say anything. All we want is a Democratic President, and that must come sure the next election, and then we can run things to suit ourselves."

If Mr. Moore ever sees this faithful transcript of his disloyal speech, delivered upon his own plantation, on the 12th of September, 1871, he may begin to get some idea that the farm hands by whom he was surrounded were not all as badly poisoned with hatred to the radicals as he was, and that one of them at least had the temerity to treasure up and repeat the above conversation. It is here produced as an evidence of the sentiments that pervaded the minds of the leaders; and to set all doubt at rest as to its authenticity, it may be added that it is a matter of record, to be seen and read of all men.

OUTRAGE UPON PERSONS IN TEXAS.

As an evidence that neither color or nationality formed any protection against the evil machinations of the Ku Klux Klan, the case of Henry Kaufmann, a well-to-do German residing in Bell County, Texas, may be cited.

Kaufmann had come to this country after the war of the Rebellion, and, having some means and an extensive knowledge as a stock raiser, made his way South, finally locating in Texas, as the place best adapted for the business of raising stock, which was one he intended to pursue. His family consisted of his wife and two children, a boy and girl, aged respectively nine and eleven years.

Texas at this time was the scene of many outrages, but the good-natured German was for a long time unable to comprehend their significance. Like most of his countrymen, he entertained republican sentiments; they were the sentiments of his heart, while at home, in the land of his fathers, and he had supposed, that in America, the asylum of the oppressed of all nations, he would find them in all their purity, upheld and expressed without fear, and honored by all.

In this respect, he was doomed to bitter disappointment. The nearest neighbor to Kaufmann, was a man named McPherson, originally from the North, but who had for some years resided in Texas, and was a thorough-going Unionist. He did not hesitate, even among all the tumult and disorder, by which he was surrounded, to express his union sentiments, and had been repeatedly warned by the Ku Klux that he must change his course.

As he paid no heed to these threats, he received a visitation during the Spring of 1871, which utterly ruined him, and from which he escaped with his life, only by the aid of Kaufmann. It appears that the Klan having beat McPherson almost to death, gave him twenty-four hours in which to leave the country, threatening to kill him if he did not do so. Suffering terribly from the dreadful scourging, McPherson was just able to get as far as Kaufmann's house, where he sought protection until such time as he might be able to travel and get away from the place.

The good-natured German, filled with the humane instincts, natural to his people, at once took the refugee into his house, and cared for him for several days, without dreaming that he would incur the displeasure of anyone for such an act. He nursed McPherson tenderly for some four days, when the latter, dreading that the Klan might discover, and destroy, not only him, but his generous benefactor, left the house at night, and removed himself as far as possible from his persecutors.

The fact of his having been harbored by Kaufmann, became known to the Klan, however, by some means, and they forthwith cla.s.sed the latter as a radical. On the third night after McPherson's departure, about eight o'clock in the evening, the unsuspecting German was sitting with his wife and children before a log-fire--as the weather was still chilly--when the door was unceremoniously burst in and a score of the Klan filled the room.

Kaufmann was rudely seized and a demand made upon him to know what he had done with that d--d radical McPherson.

To this he made reply that he "didn't know such mans." Upon this, one of the band struck him a severe blow, telling him they meant to learn him not to interfere with their business. Mrs. Kaufmann implored them in broken English, not to hurt her husband; he had done nothing, and they had made a mistake.

"He's done enough," said Butch Williams, the leader of the crowd, "You can't make any mistake on these dutchmen, they are all d--d radicals anyhow. Its born in 'em, but by ---- they shan't spit it out here."

Kaufmann was then securely pinioned and whipped until he became unconscious. When the castigation was ended, the leader turning to Mrs.

Kaufmann, and pointing to the bruised and bleeding body of her husband, as it lie upon the floor, said:--