Superman versus the Ku Klux Klan

by Richard Bowers

  Assistant Attorney General Daniel Duke of Georgia also took on the Ku Klux Klan in Atlanta. The hard-charging prosecutor had sent a number of Klansmen to prison for violent attacks against blacks and accused moral backsliders in the 1930s and early 1940s, and he was determined to see the guilty parties serve out their sentences. Late in 1941 Georgia governor Eugene Talmadge suggested granting clemency to the convicted floggers. This triggered a showdown between the fiery prosecutor and the race-baiting governor, who had long pandered for votes from KKK leaders and their followers. At a public hearing on the proposed pardons, Duke held up two leather whips with KKK etched into the handles and waved them in Talmadge’s face while making the point that the Klan’s weapon of choice could stop a bull elephant. Unmoved by the argument, Talmadge stated that he was familiar with such whips because he had once used one on a black man. Talmadge would go on to curry votes from the Klan and Duke would stand against them for years to come.

  * PART FOUR *

  COLLISION

  After the war, the world seemed like a different place. The horrors of the Holocaust were fresh in the public mind. German war criminals were on trial in Nuremberg, Germany. With the goal of preventing another global conflagration, world leaders were forming the United Nations in New York City. Soldiers were mustering out of the military, buying homes, and starting families. The first automatic clothes dryers were on sale at Sears, Superman was looking for a new villain, and the Ku Klux Klan was planning a revival. Over a frenetic one-year period, the Man of Steel and the men of hate would pursue their separate paths—and then collide.

  * CHAPTER 15 *

  OPERATION INTOLERANCE

  AS WORLD WAR II CAME TO AN END, the radio producers of The Adventures of Superman were looking for a new villain. The show was drawing more than four million listeners to the nearly 200 Mutual stations nationwide and garnering solid ratings. But even a successful kids’ radio program had to change with the times. The old enemies—Nazi agents, German scientists, foreign dictators, and Japanese traitors—were no longer relevant. Even the standard villains of mobsters, monsters, mad scientists, criminal masterminds, and supernatural forces seemed exhausted. On top of that, the parent-teacher organizations and child psychologists were still at it. They claimed that kids’ radio held out violence as the answer to every conceivable problem for a generation of over-stimulated youth. Seeking a new direction, the producers of The Adventures of Superman asked a tough question: What next?

  Shortly after the end of the war, that question was bandied about the luxurious Park Avenue offices of Kenyon and Eckhardt, the advertising agency that represented Kellogg’s and managed its link to The Adventures of Superman. The agency played an active role in the show and provided vital support to the producers, cast, and crew. For example, it employed a crack team of decoders to decipher thousands of letters that Superman fans wrote to their hero in secret code.

  Contemplating the future of the program, K&E vice president William B. Lewis asked a fascinating question: What if The Adventures of Superman tackled contemporary social issues like racism and anti-Semitism? There had been plenty of stories about racist, hatemongering organizations in the New York press, and the issue wasn’t going away anytime soon. So why not take it on? What if they used Superman to teach children the values of tolerance and fair play and the importance of accepting other kids regardless of race, religion, or national origin? What if Superman could teach a generation of children to reject those who preached prejudice and hate? After all, the entire country had banded together to win the war. Now most everyone was banding together to build a peaceful and prosperous future. Those grim photographs and films of mass graves and starving concentration camp prisoners had made an indelible mark on the public mind. Could Superman lead the way? Lewis thought so. “We’re not in the business of education,” he said. “We’re selling corn flakes. But we’d like to do both. We sure would like to do both.”

  BOB MAXWELL JUMPED at the chance to lead the campaign. He also knew it had a good chance of bombing. The most obvious risk was that the shows would come across as preachy or dull to a mass audience of kids raised on the fantasy, thrills, and spills of adventure radio. If bored or confused listeners tuned out, the ratings would plummet, the sponsor would howl, and the network honchos would demand a return to the standard fare of blood and thunder. “You’ll lose your audience,” one skeptical associate reportedly told Maxwell at the outset of the project. “Children want straight, unadulterated entertainment.” Other kids’ radio shows had produced educational programs with disappointing results. Those programs had traded their sizzle for serious messages and, after losing large segments of the audience, had quickly returned to the tried-and-true formula of murder, mystery, and mayhem.

  Despite the pitfalls, Maxwell believed that the potential payoff out-weighed the risk. By producing outstanding shows with the theme of tolerance, The Adventures of Superman could set a new standard for educational programming for the entire broadcast industry. In addition a successful campaign would spur a torrent of positive publicity. The broadcast trade publications would praise the producers for their vision and follow-through, and the mainstream press would herald Kellogg’s as an enlightened corporate sponsor. The breakthrough shows might even make allies of the growing coalition of parents, teachers, and psychologists railing against the violence in kids’ radio.

  Then there was Maxwell’s other reason for embracing the effort. His current observance of Jewish tradition may have consisted of downing the occasional lox and bagel at the corner deli and gathering with family on holidays, but he still wanted to do his part. After all, the world knew that six million Jews had died in the Nazi death camps. Didn’t everyone have a duty to make sure this atrocity never happened again? Maybe he could make a contribution by teaching young Superman fans to reject prejudice and to embrace tolerance. Besides, he had watched his father win awards and accolades for his humanitarian service. He wanted that for his radio show—and himself.

  Looking ahead to the Operation Intolerance campaign, Maxwell knew one thing for sure: Entertainment had to trump education. The programs would have to be fast paced and full of adventure. Each episode would have to end with a compelling cliff-hanger to make listeners come back the next day. Superman’s adversaries would have to be just as frightening as the criminal masterminds and mad scientists of old. That meant taking on real-world hatemongers like neo-Nazi thugs and hooded Klansmen and not pulling any punches. In preparation for the launch, Maxwell and company reportedly reviewed 25 scripts that failed to hit the mark. “The difficulty was that, while most of the writers were adept at the melodramatic, cliffhanging, hair-breadth escape techniques necessary for a show like Superman, few knew how to weave the social point of view artfully into the story,” the newspaper PM reported.

  The show’s producers finally found the answer in Ben Peter Freeman, a former New York Times reporter who was making a name for himself as a first-rate freelancer around town. Freeman had proved himself to The Adventures of Superman over the previous year, as he had tapped his potent imagination to pen a number of popular episodes including “The Scarlet Widow,” which featured one of the few female master criminals to clash with the Man of Steel. Beyond his obvious creative flair, Freeman’s background as a journalist was also helpful to Operation Intolerance, since the final scripts would have to accurately reflect the reality of organized hate in America.

  Even with a solid wordsmith on board, there were other potential pitfalls. What if a 12-year-old white boy from the Midwest tuned in to an episode just long enough to hear a bigoted character taunt a Negro girl? Might the impressionable listener imitate the racist behavior? What if a teenager tuned in to a scene in which a youth gang desecrated a synagogue? Could that young listener get the mistaken notion that such behavior was OK or, worse, that Superman endorsed it? The other risk was that programs based on real-life hate groups could scare kids half to death. What if a little girl ran to her parents and asked, �
��Will those men in hoods and robes tar and feather our family too?”

  Maxwell knew that the job required a deep understanding of children and education. He believed in fully researching potential show themes and went all out on this campaign. He first turned to education consultant Josette Frank, a researcher for the Child Study Association of America (CSAA). The bookish and well-spoken Miss Frank had lobbied Maxwell to be part of his effort of “shaping a new form of radio entertainment for children.” Miss Frank had challenged him to go beyond portraying “heroes for heroism’s sake,” adding that “kids are invested in the future and their part in it.” She jokingly assured Maxwell, “I am seething with ideas for you to throw out.” She believed that the radio producers could infuse educational messages with enough excitement to make kids “drop their baseball bats and rush to their dials.” As the work on the script continued, Miss Frank began soliciting advice from organizations ranging from the Big Brothers of America to the National Conference of Christian and Jews. She ran sample scripts by the leaders of those organizations and channeled the feedback to the writers and producers. Knowing that strong scripts and careful research were essential, she told Maxwell, “Only the children can give it success!”

  Miss Frank was well known to the Superman team. In the late 1930s, while consulting with DC Comics on complaints of violent and sexually explicit content, she proved to be an expert the editors could work with. She was far more open-minded than the hard-core critics who blamed comics for everything from high dropout rates to teenage sex. In contrast, Miss Frank pointed out that millions of kids actually chose to read comic books and learned valuable lessons from the plot twists and usual triumph of good over evil. Still, Miss Frank was no pushover. In a letter to the publisher of Wonder Woman, she once wrote, “This feature does lay you open to considerable criticism … partly on the basis of the woman’s costume (or lack of it), and partly on the basis of sadistic bits showing women chained, tortured, etc.” Despite her concerns, Miss Frank probably saw value in Wonder Woman’s decidedly feminine superpowers—she could deflect bullets with her bracelets—as well as her sensible advice to abused women: “Get strong! Earn your own living—Remember, the better you can fight, the less you’ll have to!”

  Miss Frank even called a luncheon meeting at the American Museum of Natural History with famed cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead, who advised Maxwell to step carefully with—as the agenda put it—“stories dramatizing, realistically or by allegory, the fight against threats to democracy—fascism, intolerance, mob run, vigilante movements.” Mead advised that tense drama on racial or religious conflict might be “inappropriate to the building up of serene attitudes.” Maxwell responded, “What makes you think there is any serenity in children’s programming?”

  With serenity put in its proper place, the first scripts came together, and Operation Intolerance got the final go-ahead. The first on-air reference to the program came that winter, in 1946. On February 5 announcer Jackson Beck intoned a new opening: “Yes, it’s Superman. Strange visitor from another planet, who came to earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman, defender of law and order, champion of equal rights, valiant, courageous fighter against the forces of hate and prejudice!”

  On April 16, 1946, millions of children tuned in at the appointed hour to begin an exciting new series. This time Superman would not be battling mad scientists, atomic weapons, and supernatural menaces; he would not be turning back tidal waves and breaking up smuggling rings. This time America’s favorite superhero would be declaring war on religious bigots and racist extremists. The first installment was titled “The Hate Mongers Organization.” The story went like this:

  ON THE STREETS of Metropolis at midnight, two shadowy figures approach Hoffman’s Drug Store on Morton Street. As one of the thugs heaves a rock through the display window, the other douses the building with gasoline. The young hoodlums then light a fire that quickly destroys the drugstore and engulfs the entire city block.

  It turns out the arsonists are foot soldiers of the Guardians of America, a secretive group of Nazi-like terrorists run by a racist and religious bigot who goes by the name Frank Hill. Hill and his gang of teenage thugs are out to stop the Metropolis Interfaith Council from building a community clubhouse and gymnasium “for the use of all boys and girls in the neighborhood, regardless of race, creed or color … where children of every race, ethnic background and spiritual belief can play and learn that all people are alike.” Inspired by Hill’s hateful rhetoric, his band of misguided “juvenile delinquents” steps up its violent attacks against supporters of the proposed community center. The Guardians invade a Jewish temple and stab a rabbi. They beat up a Catholic boy who witnessed an arson.

  As the tension mounts, Clark Kent explains the grim reality to cub reporter Jimmy Olsen—and to the millions of impressionable young listeners glued to their radios. “It isn’t just the Catholics, or the Jews, or the Protestants they’re after,” the mild-mannered reporter explains. “Their game is to stir up hatred among all of us—to get the Catholic to hate the Jew and the Jew to hate the Protestant, and the Protestant to hate the Catholic. It’s a dirty, vicious circle, and like Hitler and his Nazi killers, they plan to step in and pick up the marbles while we’re busy hating one another and cutting each other’s throats. It’s an old trick but for some reason a lot of us still fall for it.”

  Jimmy Olsen has gone undercover to infiltrate the Guardians. He gains the trust of the gang and arranges a rare meeting with Frank Hill. Jimmy meets Hill in the group’s penthouse headquarters and pretends to embrace the Guardians’ mission. Then Jimmy is stunned to learn that a respected community leader—a purported backer of the unity house project—is really a secret supporter of the Guardians. The turncoat knows of Jimmy’s close ties to Clark Kent and exposes him as a mole. His cover blown, Jimmy is bound, gagged, thrown in the back of a car, taken to the Metropolis bridge, and tossed in the river. As Jimmy sinks toward almost certain death, Superman soars to his rescue, plunging into the river and lifting him to safety.

  Then the Man of Steel flies to the Guardians’ headquarters to round up Hill and his gang. He searches the headquarters and finds documents showing that Frank Hill is actually Franz Hiller, a former Nazi spy with a grand plan to impose a fascist dictatorship on the United States. The young gang members are shocked to learn that Hiller had manipulated them. In the end, the Man of Steel warns the gang members:

  Remember this as long as you live: Whenever you meet up with anyone who is trying to cause trouble between people—anyone who tries to tell you that a man can’t be a good citizen because of his religious beliefs—you can be sure that the troublemaker is a rotten citizen himself and a rotten human being. Don’t ever forget that!

  The radio team was elated. The ratings for “The Hate Mongers Organization” pushed The Adventures of Superman to the number one children’s show on air. The praise from the press just added to the euphoria. The CSAA applauded the “use of children’s own favorite medium to … combat the spread of race and religious bigotry.” Serving dozens of African-American newspapers, the Calvin Newspaper Service applauded “this noble effort to make better citizens of our children and to eradicate from their minds all thoughts of racial and religious intolerance.” The National Conference of Christians and Jews encouraged other broadcasters to “follow the lead of Superman.”

  “The Hate Mongers Organization,” however, was just an opening salvo in the show’s war on bigotry. In this episode the producers had played it safe by pitting Superman against an adversary like Franz Hiller. Germany’s Nazi threat was still fresh in the public mind, and Hiller was not that much different from the Nazi villains Superman had conquered during the war. Now the creative team was preparing to take on a dire and truly American threat to democracy: the Ku Klux Klan. The timing was perfect.

  * CHAPTER 16 *

  RETURN TO STONE MOUNTAIN

  THE EVENTS OF MAY 9, 1946, in Atlanta were not fant
asy. Late that night a 300-foot-tall wooden cross burned on a granite butte near the top of Stone Mountain. The flames cast a glow over more than a thousand men clad in white robes and hoods. Distinguished by his flowing green robe, Ku Klux Klan Grand Dragon Samuel Green presided from a makeshift altar made of flagstones, draped with an American flag, and bedecked with an unsheathed sword, a canteen of water, and a Bible open to Romans 12: The Christian Life. As plumes of flame leaped into the night and a half moon rose in the distant sky, the Grand Dragon delivered a blistering call to arms in defense of white rule. Bringing his racist rant to a crescendo, he cast his gaze on several dozen men kneeling before him in plain clothes. After leading the new recruits in the sacred oath of initiation, he declared them knights of the Ku Klux Klan. He also warned that betrayal of the organization’s secrets would result in the ultimate punishment: death at the hands of a brother. As the ceremony ended Green cried, “We are revived!”

  Grand Dragon Green was elated with the Stone Mountain coming-out party. More than 200 new recruits had been initiated that night, and more than a thousand spectators had trekked up the mountain to witness the event. Major newspapers, national wire services, and a nationally circulated magazine had covered it, and most reporters had used adjectives like “eerie,” “mysterious,” “awesome,” and “haunting” to describe the goings-on. In fact the next issue of LIFE magazine featured a four-page photo spread under the headline “Ku Klux Klan Tries a Comeback. It Pledges Initiates in a Mystic Pageant on Georgia’s Stone Mountain.” Now millions of readers across the country had the message that Green wanted them to have: The KKK was rising again.