Thomas Dixon

The Sins of the Father: a Romance of the South Thomas Dixon

The young editor of The Daily Eagle and Phoenix straightened his tall figure from the pile of papers that smothered his desk, glanced at his foreman who stood waiting, and spoke in the quiet drawl he always used when excited: "Just a moment?'til I read this over??" The foreman nodded. He scanned the scrawled pencil manuscript twice and handed it up without changing a letter: "Set the title in heavy black-faced caps?black?the blackest you've got." He read the title over again musingly, his strong mouth closing with a snap at its finish: THE BLACK LEAGUE AND THE KU KLUX KLAN DOWN WITH ALL SECRET SOCIETIES The foreman took the manuscript with a laugh: "You've certainly got 'em guessing, major??" "Who?" "Everybody. We've all been thinking until these editorials began that you were a leader of the Klan." A smile played about the corners of the deep-set brown eyes as he swung carelessly back to his desk and waved the printer to his task with a friendly sweep of his long arm: "Let 'em think again!" A shout in the Court House Square across the narrow street caused him to lift his head with a frown: "Salesday?of course?the first Monday?doomsday for the conquered South?God, the horror of it all!" He laid his pencil down, walked to the window and looked out on the crowd of slouching loafers as they gathered around the auctioneer's block. The negroes outnumbered the whites two to one.