Originally published: . Volume 8, No. 4. Source pages: 2.
In the 1960s, when I was about ten, my father, the editor/publisher of a weekly newspaper, took on the KKK in what was surely the poorest, most backward place in God’s green creation– Red River Parish. It was a long battle with lots of skirmishes.
One evening, just after dark, the family was sitting at the table, finishing supper and as was typical, my father was talking and everyone else was listening. My mother and father, both journalists in a small, sleepy little parish, always focused on the human dramas that unfolded in this rural community, the people, the society, the news. This night was no different.
We all sat in front of the three large windows finishing dinner, and I was listening. Then, a small light flickered in the middle of our large, night- shrouded yard caught my attention. I squinted. Then squinted again. Finally I pointed to interrupt my father, and asked, “What is that?”
Everyone at the table turned to look, as the light grew larger and we all saw it. In the middle of the yard was a burning cross. Not just any cross, but one of those famous KKK crosses. Now ablaze. The wood was almost gone, and the flames had made their way into the yard, into the ditch, and even down the highway. But then, mere minutes later, the local fire truck roared into our yard and men jumped down and began to put out the fire.
The KKK members had waited down the road in a cow pasture to see my father’s reaction, but when no one noticed the fire, or how it was spreading, they had to summon the fire department. Some of those in the group that set the fire were also the same ones who put it out. A very small town.
It was not a particularly successful cross burning, and it got worse. The next day, my father had me draw up a sign that said “See genuine KKK cross, 25¢” and we placed it in the yard. He took a photo of the cross, the sign, and the yard, and put the photograph and the whole story of what had happened on the front page of the newspaper for the next week’s edition.
This article is part of a historical newspaper archive. Read the original issue for its original layout, photographs and graphics.