“Why have you called me here?” George Gordon regarded his old friend and colleague, Nathan Bedford Forrest, with mild annoyance. Both men had served in the War of Northern Aggression on the side of the South, and afterward, had participated in the Ku Klux Klan. But the movement had shattered at its very height amid challenges and controversies too numerous to combat.
“The nation needs us,” Forrest explained.
The entire gathering, twelve in total, consisted of men who had been in the Army and then the KKK. It was no secret that these men all despised Reconstruction, the memory of Abraham Lincoln and the freedom of the Negro. They were gathered in the Maxwell House Hotel in downtown Nashville on the top floor, in a room heated by steam and lit by gas. It was truly a marvel, an example of the feats which could be accomplished with slave labor...but those days were past.
“How about some coffee?” Forrest offered. “They grind it here, fresh. Good stuff, it’s the damnedest thing...”
“You gump,” Gordon spat. “Talk to us. What’s this about?”
Forrest slapped his thighs. “Alright. Alright, boys. Y’all deserve to hear what I got to say. It’s the damnedest thing, but, well, nigh some, what’s it been, thirteen years? Well now, thirteen years past, as a organization, we done failed. Lotta men been donning the white cap since then, but for better or worse, the black man’s free.”
“Runnin’ scared!” Albert Snow put in proudly.
“Yes,” Forrest conceded. “Though not so much, now. Since Lincoln—well, at least since Lincoln—we got new trouble a-brewin’ here and elsewhere, and it don’t discriminate-like. Got a lotta people mad, worried, frustrated...talkin’ about the Bible more’n ever.
“Much as we all here might say the Negro’s everything from stupid to evil, not every black man--”
“Excuse me,” Snow interrupted. He was a big man with a nose that had been twisted and flattened, accustomed to his say and his way. “What’s this talk about, huh? We ‘say’ the black man’s this and that?! He is!”
“Well, I was--”
“No two ways about it, Forrest! Take back that garbage you just said.”
“The point was to--”
“Take it back!”
Forrest showed his palms. “It’s taken.”
We taught them too well, Gordon mused. All that stuff we said to get ‘em riled up. They bought it hook, line and sinker. Forrest wants to undo it now? Good luck.
“Point is, now, we got Mutations.”
“Sons o’ bitches,” Snow spat.
“Yes indeed. Yes, indeed. Sons of Satan, more like. Now, I wanna say they’re more trouble than the Negro ever was. I know, maybe I’m wrong about it. But think about this: Negroes got children who are Mutations, but they got a lot more who ain’t. The same exactly is true of whites. Now, I don’t know about you, but to me that says that we all got the same problem.”
“We got the same problem in a drought,” Snow told him. “You know how it’s handled? We get food and water, and they don’t.”
Gordon could see that the problem was now apparent to Forrest as well.
“That’s all well and good. So I suppose your idea is to say that they can’t have childen.”
“There’s other laws like that on the books.”
“It’s not something we can control, now is it? Unless you wanna post a lawman in every bedroom.”
“Well, why not?” The whole room looked at Snow like he was insane before they realized he was exaggerating. “Look, everyone knows it’s especially when a white person and a Negro have kids that you get Mutations.”
“That’s an old wives’ tale,” Gordon said. Snow glared at him like he was a traitor.
“Look,” Forrest pulled them back on track. “We both have had the same troubles, so it stands to reason we’re more alike than we think.”
“Even dogs come out with two heads sometimes,” Rupert Smith contributed. The tide was turning against Forrest.
“Yes, but why? It doesn’t happen to everyone, so I’d reckon the real issue, the real sign that somebody don’t belong, it’s if they got Mutation kids!”
The congregation mulled this over. “What’s this mean? We gonna chase white folks now?” Snow challenged.
“I—no. I...anybody, white, black, creole, don’t make a damn bit of difference. If they make a compact with the Devil, they gotta go.”
“Who made a compact with the Devil?” Gordon inquired.
“The mother, of course. Just like Eve in the Beginning. If any woman gives birth to a Mutation, she and her kid gotta go. Unless you all want another Lincoln. We’ll worry about the Negroes later, and let other groups deal with ‘em. We can still fight for laws to keep ‘em in their place, but our focus has gotta be Mutations. For the love of God...we have to push back against the forces of Hell, against this new black plague. Are you all with me?”
Snow made a face, but he stood up and said, “I don’t like it, but I reckon there ain’t no choice.”
The others were fast to follow.
“Let us pray,” Forrest said.
“The nation needs us,” Forrest explained.
The entire gathering, twelve in total, consisted of men who had been in the Army and then the KKK. It was no secret that these men all despised Reconstruction, the memory of Abraham Lincoln and the freedom of the Negro. They were gathered in the Maxwell House Hotel in downtown Nashville on the top floor, in a room heated by steam and lit by gas. It was truly a marvel, an example of the feats which could be accomplished with slave labor...but those days were past.
“How about some coffee?” Forrest offered. “They grind it here, fresh. Good stuff, it’s the damnedest thing...”
“You gump,” Gordon spat. “Talk to us. What’s this about?”
Forrest slapped his thighs. “Alright. Alright, boys. Y’all deserve to hear what I got to say. It’s the damnedest thing, but, well, nigh some, what’s it been, thirteen years? Well now, thirteen years past, as a organization, we done failed. Lotta men been donning the white cap since then, but for better or worse, the black man’s free.”
“Runnin’ scared!” Albert Snow put in proudly.
“Yes,” Forrest conceded. “Though not so much, now. Since Lincoln—well, at least since Lincoln—we got new trouble a-brewin’ here and elsewhere, and it don’t discriminate-like. Got a lotta people mad, worried, frustrated...talkin’ about the Bible more’n ever.
“Much as we all here might say the Negro’s everything from stupid to evil, not every black man--”
“Excuse me,” Snow interrupted. He was a big man with a nose that had been twisted and flattened, accustomed to his say and his way. “What’s this talk about, huh? We ‘say’ the black man’s this and that?! He is!”
“Well, I was--”
“No two ways about it, Forrest! Take back that garbage you just said.”
“The point was to--”
“Take it back!”
Forrest showed his palms. “It’s taken.”
We taught them too well, Gordon mused. All that stuff we said to get ‘em riled up. They bought it hook, line and sinker. Forrest wants to undo it now? Good luck.
“Point is, now, we got Mutations.”
“Sons o’ bitches,” Snow spat.
“Yes indeed. Yes, indeed. Sons of Satan, more like. Now, I wanna say they’re more trouble than the Negro ever was. I know, maybe I’m wrong about it. But think about this: Negroes got children who are Mutations, but they got a lot more who ain’t. The same exactly is true of whites. Now, I don’t know about you, but to me that says that we all got the same problem.”
“We got the same problem in a drought,” Snow told him. “You know how it’s handled? We get food and water, and they don’t.”
Gordon could see that the problem was now apparent to Forrest as well.
“That’s all well and good. So I suppose your idea is to say that they can’t have childen.”
“There’s other laws like that on the books.”
“It’s not something we can control, now is it? Unless you wanna post a lawman in every bedroom.”
“Well, why not?” The whole room looked at Snow like he was insane before they realized he was exaggerating. “Look, everyone knows it’s especially when a white person and a Negro have kids that you get Mutations.”
“That’s an old wives’ tale,” Gordon said. Snow glared at him like he was a traitor.
“Look,” Forrest pulled them back on track. “We both have had the same troubles, so it stands to reason we’re more alike than we think.”
“Even dogs come out with two heads sometimes,” Rupert Smith contributed. The tide was turning against Forrest.
“Yes, but why? It doesn’t happen to everyone, so I’d reckon the real issue, the real sign that somebody don’t belong, it’s if they got Mutation kids!”
The congregation mulled this over. “What’s this mean? We gonna chase white folks now?” Snow challenged.
“I—no. I...anybody, white, black, creole, don’t make a damn bit of difference. If they make a compact with the Devil, they gotta go.”
“Who made a compact with the Devil?” Gordon inquired.
“The mother, of course. Just like Eve in the Beginning. If any woman gives birth to a Mutation, she and her kid gotta go. Unless you all want another Lincoln. We’ll worry about the Negroes later, and let other groups deal with ‘em. We can still fight for laws to keep ‘em in their place, but our focus has gotta be Mutations. For the love of God...we have to push back against the forces of Hell, against this new black plague. Are you all with me?”
Snow made a face, but he stood up and said, “I don’t like it, but I reckon there ain’t no choice.”
The others were fast to follow.
“Let us pray,” Forrest said.
