When the Wilford Springs Klan assembled it voted to offer a reward for evidence that would lead to the arrest and conviction of the parties who whipped the mayor. Judge Rider, the Exalted Cyclops, said: "Klansmen, the Klan is an organization which stands for law enforcement. It is opposed to all forms of lynchings. If it is found that members of this organization committed this offense against the peace of this man and the laws of the state they will be banished from this organization or I will withdraw at once."
Governor Slydell made the speaking tour through the section of the state known as the stronghold of the Klan. He denounced that organization in scathing terms. The principal part of his speeches was devoted to a denunciation of the Klan and the remainder to extolling the virtues of Perdue. He would wave his arms frantically when denouncing the Klan, telling the audience that he would soon arrest Klan officers. He boastingly told how he had prevented the Klan from holding a parade in one town. He positively stated that the Klan had whipped Fritz Krouse, the mayor of Freeburg; that he had put his detectives on the job, and when sufficient evidence was secured the offenders would be severely punished.
When the governor spoke at Wilford Springs he faced a large audience of representative citizens. The audience gave the best of attention during his introductory remarks and while he praised Perdue and told the people that if elected Perdue would carry out his policies. When he launched his tirade against the Klan, about two-thirds of the audience arose and quietly passed out.
The general feeling was that the governor's speeches condemning the Klan as a lawless organization and not furnishing one fact to prove that the Klan had committed a single act of violence was making votes for Dawson, whom the Klan was supporting for governor.
A few days before election a traveling salesman who had recently visited the towns in which the governor had made speeches was eating at the same table in a hotel with Frank Perdue, candidate for governor.
"Perdue," said the traveling salesman, "do you expect to be elected governor?"
"Yes, sir, I do," Perdue replied.
"If you expect to be elected, in order that you will not be greatly disappointed, you had better take Governor Slydell by the nape of the neck and the seat of the trousers and pitch him into the river."
"Why so?"
"Every time the governor makes a speech he is making thousands of votes for Dawson."
"I would rather the governor would not make speeches for me, but when Slydell wants to talk you can't stop him."
Election day dawned bright and fair. There was an unusually heavy vote cast. When the polls were closed both parties were claiming the election. The following morning the administration papers conceded the election to Dawson by a plurality of 20,000 over Perdue, who had the support of the administration. Dawson was the only member of his party who was elected to a state office; thus the effect of Governor Slydell's speeches was shown. The candidate for Congress in the district in which Wilford Springs is located won by a large majority. All county officers endorsed by the Klan in Rush County were elected by overwhelming majorities. In analyzing the vote, Springer, in the Journal, stated that certain local matters had a big influence on the county and district election. He quoted Governor Slydell as saying that his attack on the Klan was not responsible for Perdue's defeat, but that the people were restless and desired a change.
The evening after election Harold called Ruth over the 'phone. "Bring your father and aunt uptown about eight o'clock this evening," he said.
"Why, what is going to happen?" she asked.
"There is going to be an election jollification."
There were no bills put out announcing the celebration, neither did the papers carry any notice, but about seven o'clock the streets were jammed with people. Every available parking space in the business section was occupied by a car. Everywhere there was an air of expectancy. No one could or would give any information as to why the great crowd had gathered. Such questions were common: "Why all this crowd?" "What's going to happen?" "Why are all these people coming to town?" Occasionally someone would state that he had heard that there was to be an election celebration. One old colored woman exclaimed, "Fo' de Lawd sake! Am all the peopel in de world a comin' to Wilford Springs?"
At eight-fifteen, "There they come," "there they come," was passed along the front ranks of those who lined the street pavements. Around the corner at the intersection of Market and Broadway came a white robed figure carrying the stars and stripes. Just behind him came two others carrying a fiery cross. Behind these came others marching eight abreast—all wore white robes and were masked. There were thousands of them. There was no interference by the police. The first five hundred marched through the crowds on the street without any demonstration from the onlookers. Finally a banner carried by the marchers bearing the words, "The Klan Stands for 100 Per Cent Americanism," brought forth an applause from the crowd. Another banner which read, "Mr. Bootlegger, Your Days Are Numbered," was lustily cheered. A float representing a school house had a banner on each side with the inscription: "The Hope of America. We Want Protestant Teachers in Our Schools." This float was roundly cheered by the Protestants, who composed ninety per cent of the crowd. The banner which provoked the most mirth was the one carried at the rear of the procession. It read:
"Someone page Governor Slydell."
"Pat McBryan needs the smelling salts."
The crowd went wild. Hennesy had stood in the door of his place of business and watched the entire parade. When the last of the white robed marchers had passed he took out his handkerchief and wiped the cold sweat from his face. Two negroes who had watched the parade from the alley walked farther down the alley from the lights and engaged in earnest conversation. They were bootleggers and for years had been doing a thriving business, carrying their goods on their hips. "Mose," said Pete, "what you all think of these damn Kluxers?"
"Pete," replied Mose, in a suppressed tone, "you's mighty ca'less of that isthmus of youse."
"Niggah, what youse mean by 'isthmus'?"
"Ma go'graphy sa'd that an isthmus is a narrow neck connectin' two la'ger bodies."
"Well, what you mean 'bout me bein' ca'less of my isthmus?"
"I means dat youse stands a mighty good chance of gettin youah isthmus stretched when youse refers to dem gente'mens as 'damn Kluxers.' When I speaks of dem gente'mens I's gwine to say Mistah Kluxers. You get me, Pete?"
"Yes, I duz, and I 'spects it's goin' to be pow'ful unhealthy round heah for gente'men of ouah profession. If them damn—I means 'Mistah' Kluxers would jest take them masks off we'd know who to keep away from."
"Youse right, Pete. The legislater an govenah shuah ought to make 'em take them masks off, and then we'd know who to stay way from when we's transactin' ouah bizness."
"Youse right, but Govenah Slydell's man wa'n't elected, so we can't count on that."
"Well, Pete, what's you gwine to do?"
"What's I gwine to do? Well, suh, I'se gwine to leave on that twelve o'clock train tonight."
"And I'se gwine with you less—less——"
"Less what?"
"Less thar's a train goin' fo' that time."