My first intimate contact with the “Invisible Empire” took place in upper East Tennessee, a section of the United States where one would least expect such a movement to take a definite foothold. There is practically no racial friction whatever in this section. The negro population is not large, and the negroes themselves are orderly and well-behaved people, industrious and well liked by the white people. A remarkable thing about East Tennessee is the scarcity of Jews. It is very doubtful if a careful search of the entire fifteen counties would disclose enough Jewish people to fill a synagogue. There is likewise a paucity of foreign population, for, with the exception of a few Greeks, the foreign element seems strangely absent. It is also remarkable that in this section the Roman Catholic religion does not seem to have been able to take root. While there is a small Catholic Church in Johnson City, and one in Greeneville that is opened but once a year, the other places have few, if any, Catholics in them. It is doubtful if one could find in all America a group of people who appear to be more overwhelmingly Americans or more uniformly Protestant in their religious views than the inhabitants of this section.

In January, 1921, I was sent by a Chattanooga business house with which I had been connected for some time, on an extended trip through East Tennessee.

In February I arrived at Johnson City, intending to make that my headquarters and visit the other towns, which are easy of access. Early in March, 1921, I noticed a young man of pleasing personality, but I had never talked with him until the morning of March 16, when we were thrown together at the breakfast table.

“What are you selling?” I asked, taking it for granted that he was a traveling salesman.

He looked at the Masonic emblem I wore on my coat, smiled and handed me a clipping from the Johnson City Staff, stating that the organizer of the Ku Klux Klan was in town seeking recruits, but that people did not want the Klan, and expressing the hope that the vagrancy laws would take care of the worker for the movement.

My curiosity was immediately aroused, and after the organizer had carefully examined my Masonic and Knights of Pythias cards, we had a long talk together. He was an excellent salesman of his proposition, and in a few minutes he had me completely sold. In response to questions, I seemed to qualify, for the organizer, or Kleagle, as he is officially called, told me to hold myself in readiness and he would take me in that night. When evening came, I accompanied the Kleagle to the office of a prominent business man who had assembled his brother and his entire office force, and nine of us were taken into the “Invisible Empire,” Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. The ceremony of “naturalization” was held in an inner office, the Kleagle wearing his white robe, with cape lined with red satin, and his peaked helmet with mask in which were cut two eye holes. It was my first glimpse of the Ku Klux regalia.

Next day, the Kleagle met me at breakfast again, and stated that he was compelled to go back to Knoxville, which was his headquarters, and asked me if I would not take hold of the work for a week, acting as his representative during his absence. He stated that, on account of newspaper opposition, he had been unable to make any rapid progress, but believed that on account of my more extensive acquaintance I could render some valuable service to the cause. This I agreed to do for him, and during the day was instructed in many matters connected with the soliciting work. On one point, he was very emphatic. “In your work,” he said, “it is advisable to get the mayor, the sheriff and his deputies if they are eligible, and the police department. Also we want the telephone and telegraph people, and the better class of railroaders.” With this special injunction, the Kleagle boarded the train for Knoxville, and left me in charge of the field, first notifying the Klansmen that he had so designated me.

On April 6, 1921, the Kleagle was suddenly called to Atlanta for a conference with the Imperial Kleagle, or chief organizer, and notified me that I should have to take charge of the work temporarily during his absence. He returned, however, on the evening of April 8, 1921, in time to obligate a class of thirty-six men whom I had waiting for him. He brought with him a commission as Kleagle made out in my name, and placed me in charge of the field, with the statement that he had been made a King Kleagle in another field. That night we conferred until very late, going over the entire work, and I had several papers which had to be made out. One of these papers was one of the most remarkable documents I have ever seen. It is called the “Kleagle’s Pledge of Loyalty,” and reads as follows:

It will be noted in studying the foregoing document that the pledge is not to the organization, but to William Joseph Simmons.

In addition to this “pledge of loyalty” to “Emperor” Simmons, I was also required to sign an application for an indemnity bond, which was an agreement, not to indemnify the organization from loss, but to indemnify William J. Simmons in the sum of one thousand dollars. The application for employment, which in my case, was made after I was employed, was also directed to the “Emperor.”