by your bedstead.” His smiling eyes poll the crowd and they answer him with nods of acknowledgment.
Yes, yes, of course,
we do.
“In my left hand here, I got a copy of the Constitution of the United States”—
Check rolled piece of paper,
Ruth reminds herself—“given me by my ol’ Drill Sargent, John Wayne Petty, when I left Camp Lejeune to fight the Commies in Korea.” Check J. W. Petty, Camp Lejeune.
“Now, these two things I hold in my hands represent two of the three happiest days of my life. The third is the day my baby boy, Billy, Junior, sleeping right over there in his mamma’s arms—Hold him up, Cassie!—was born.” Baby Billy is a pink-cheeked infant wrapped in a blue-for-boys blanket. Cassie, his pretty blond mother, also pink-cheeked, shows him off proudly then sits back down beside the attentive Sheriff and two members of the local school board, also up for reelection.
“Folks, if I’d abeen here last spring, I woulda stood here before you a happy man—with God,”—He holds up his Bible— “country,”—He waves the rolled sheet of paper—“and family”—He sweeps his Bible-holding hand toward Cassie and the baby—“all, ALL in the divine order which the Good Lord intended.
“But today,”—He drops both arms and shakes his head, mournfully—“I am not happy. And, according to your good Sheriff here, neither are you! NOR SHOULD WE BE!
“My friends, the Supreme Court of our great nation has committed a sin against God and all good Christians. The judges of the Supreme Court have set themselves in judgment of Jehovah’s divine plan. They seek no less than to reverse the curse of Canaan!” At this, the young man drops the rolled paper onto the podium, and forms an angry fist. Striding to the right, he brandishes his Bible high above his head.
“ ‘Cursed be Canaan,’
the Lord says,
‘a slave of slaves shall he be to
his brothers’!”
The crowd responds with a murmured rumble of agreement; the young man lowers his Bible and again shakes his head.
“My friends, the judges of the Supreme Court seek to force the children of the white race to mingle with the children of other races. Yet, God Almighty commands us clearly:
‘Ye shall
not go in to them, neither shall they come in unto you: for surely they
will turn away your heart after their gods’!
”
At this, there’s a syncopation of emphatic calls: “That’s right!” “Yes, Lord!” “Amen, brother!”
“The judges of the Supreme Court have had
their
hearts turned against God! And, in so doing, they’ve turned their backs upon the white race!” Returning to the podium, he flips open his Bible and pretends to read:
“ ‘The Lord thy God hath
chosen thee to be a special people unto himself, above ALL people that
are upon the face of the earth’!”
The crowd begins to hoot and holler, “Above all!” “Yes!” “You tell ’em!” On the dais, the Sheriff grins.
“ Now, folks,”—the handsome speaker hushes them— “I’m not making any of this up. Every bit of it’s in the holy and recorded Word of God. You can look it up yourself, easy as I did. And, while you’re at it, flip on over to the New Testament”—Hathaway flips over—“where JEE-sus, our Lord and Savior, commands:
‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,
and unto God that which is God’s.’
“My friends,”—he places his right hand tenderly on the open pages—“just like you, just like JEE-sus says to, I pay my taxes. And, like a whole lotta you out there, when my country called, I paid two years of my life in Korea. Those slant-eyed Commie devils cost me half a hand!” Hathaway holds up his angry left fist and finally opens it, for all to see. The fingers have no nails or upper knuckles. The crowd gasps. “I have rendered unto Caesar that which is his to have!” He thrusts the ugly mitt in their faces. “But, lemme tell you,”—On cue, Cassie stands up, steps forward, cradling the baby in her arms.
Yes, yes, of course,
we do.
“In my left hand here, I got a copy of the Constitution of the United States”—
Check rolled piece of paper,
Ruth reminds herself—“given me by my ol’ Drill Sargent, John Wayne Petty, when I left Camp Lejeune to fight the Commies in Korea.” Check J. W. Petty, Camp Lejeune.
“Now, these two things I hold in my hands represent two of the three happiest days of my life. The third is the day my baby boy, Billy, Junior, sleeping right over there in his mamma’s arms—Hold him up, Cassie!—was born.” Baby Billy is a pink-cheeked infant wrapped in a blue-for-boys blanket. Cassie, his pretty blond mother, also pink-cheeked, shows him off proudly then sits back down beside the attentive Sheriff and two members of the local school board, also up for reelection.
“Folks, if I’d abeen here last spring, I woulda stood here before you a happy man—with God,”—He holds up his Bible— “country,”—He waves the rolled sheet of paper—“and family”—He sweeps his Bible-holding hand toward Cassie and the baby—“all, ALL in the divine order which the Good Lord intended.
“But today,”—He drops both arms and shakes his head, mournfully—“I am not happy. And, according to your good Sheriff here, neither are you! NOR SHOULD WE BE!
“My friends, the Supreme Court of our great nation has committed a sin against God and all good Christians. The judges of the Supreme Court have set themselves in judgment of Jehovah’s divine plan. They seek no less than to reverse the curse of Canaan!” At this, the young man drops the rolled paper onto the podium, and forms an angry fist. Striding to the right, he brandishes his Bible high above his head.
“ ‘Cursed be Canaan,’
the Lord says,
‘a slave of slaves shall he be to
his brothers’!”
The crowd responds with a murmured rumble of agreement; the young man lowers his Bible and again shakes his head.
“My friends, the judges of the Supreme Court seek to force the children of the white race to mingle with the children of other races. Yet, God Almighty commands us clearly:
‘Ye shall
not go in to them, neither shall they come in unto you: for surely they
will turn away your heart after their gods’!
”
At this, there’s a syncopation of emphatic calls: “That’s right!” “Yes, Lord!” “Amen, brother!”
“The judges of the Supreme Court have had
their
hearts turned against God! And, in so doing, they’ve turned their backs upon the white race!” Returning to the podium, he flips open his Bible and pretends to read:
“ ‘The Lord thy God hath
chosen thee to be a special people unto himself, above ALL people that
are upon the face of the earth’!”
The crowd begins to hoot and holler, “Above all!” “Yes!” “You tell ’em!” On the dais, the Sheriff grins.
“ Now, folks,”—the handsome speaker hushes them— “I’m not making any of this up. Every bit of it’s in the holy and recorded Word of God. You can look it up yourself, easy as I did. And, while you’re at it, flip on over to the New Testament”—Hathaway flips over—“where JEE-sus, our Lord and Savior, commands:
‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,
and unto God that which is God’s.’
“My friends,”—he places his right hand tenderly on the open pages—“just like you, just like JEE-sus says to, I pay my taxes. And, like a whole lotta you out there, when my country called, I paid two years of my life in Korea. Those slant-eyed Commie devils cost me half a hand!” Hathaway holds up his angry left fist and finally opens it, for all to see. The fingers have no nails or upper knuckles. The crowd gasps. “I have rendered unto Caesar that which is his to have!” He thrusts the ugly mitt in their faces. “But, lemme tell you,”—On cue, Cassie stands up, steps forward, cradling the baby in her arms.
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