A cautionary tale
Rewind to 1924 and another presidential election year.
A narcissistic, misogynistic, braggart leads a movement to purge America of “foreigners” and other “undesirables.” His goal is to ultimately capture the presidency and impose his vision of America on an unsuspecting public. Followers march through the streets of small towns and large cities, often assaulting law-abiding citizens. At large rallies, he exhorts his audiences to follow his leadership, sometimes criticizing the Constitution and courts.
At one rally, he sweeps down from the sky in an airplane. Morally bankrupt politicians, fearing the leader’s power, journey to his lavish mansion to seek his blessing and bask in his presence. Protestant preachers spew sermons of hate from the pulpit. A craven press, afraid of the wrath of his followers, write glowing stories — and bury anything damaging — about the great leader. Using his wealth and influence, he dodges serious criminal charges, even including rape. Women and even young children join his movement.
The leader? David Stephenson, Grand Dragon of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan of Indiana. Playing to people’s fears, he created the largest state Klan organization in the country. Those who knew his weaknesses for fame, whiskey and women excused his character “flaws.” After all, “the end justifies the means,” doesn’t it?
Trying to answer the question as to why an otherwise intelligent people would follow such a flawed individual, Timothy Egan, author of “A Fever in the Heartland,” writes that “They believed because they wanted to believe.”
And Stephenson? No, he didn’t win the presidency — nor did any of his followers; in fact, the following year (1925) he was personally destroyed, a victim of his own excesses. The unlikely hero of this cautionary tale was a woman by the name of Madge Obenholtzer. Read Egan’s riveting account to learn how Madge, another of Stephenson’s many victims, posthumously brought down the most powerful man in Indiana and his movement.
Robert W. Frenz
Crystal Lake