A Book Report

As I continue the slow recovery of a stubborn calf injury, I'm reading a book about Indiana history, A Fever in the Heartland. It's a history of the Ku Kluz Klan in Indiana, once a strong hold of the racist group.

I know a bit about the history of the Klan in Indiana, but this book has enlightened me on the depth that it penetrated local and state government. Kinda scary to put it mildly. The book follows the rise of the Klan in the 1920's, essentially 1922-1925. 

There are references to places I'm familiar; Richmond, I've driven by the community countless times, where Louis Armstrong recorded his first jazz album; Evansville, my collegiate alma mater, where the Grand Dragon of Indiana got his start; Valparaiso University, where I earned my athletic letter at a conference track meet running for the University of Evansville, almost becoming the university owned by the KKK. 

What is interesting, scary and concerning is that much of the rhetoric of the Klan then, about Jews, Catholics, Blacks, Southern European immigrants, is similar to the anti-immigration rhetoric we hear today: "...but our immigrants now are from southern Europe and they have not our ideas, either religious or educational. They are idiots, insane, diseased criminals"* The only thing missing is calling it a shithole country.

As I read the book, it has made me wonder about my own family's history during this time. The area where I grew up, Adams County, Geneva, Berne, is not mentioned in the book. But with the proliferation of Klan members, men, women and Ku Klux Kiddies, there was surely members in the area. Were my grandparents members, activists opposed, quietly keeping their heads down? I don't know. 

My history: one grandparent was first generation born in the US, the other a county Democrat party official. My upbringing: conservative, family values, belief in God, respect for others, hard work, honesty. At this time, I trust my grandparents were not members, but either voiced their views against those of the KKK or remained quiet to protect their business. 

What would I think if I learned otherwise? It wouldn't change who I am, but it would likely change how I view my family history. And that's important, because I now have grandkids who may one day wonder about my involvement in current affairs. I don't want them to be ashamed that I sided with bigots.

*A Fever in the Heartland, Chapter 5, paperback version, p. 54-55. Speech by Daisy Douglas Barr.