by Jim Musgrave
“This is not exactly a scientific method, but I know you can find out information others cannot, and you also have the keen intelligence to explain it. I look forward to hearing what you have to report,” I said.
“I must object, Patrick. This report of mine includes facts from two scientists on the faculty at Columbia University, three business owners, and one United States Senator. I have put this theory under the headings of Racial Superiority, Immigration Restrictions, and, believe it or not, the Conservation of Natural Resources.”
“It sounds quite organized. Let me hear it,” I said.
“They call this organization the World Eugenics Collective. The scientists said their beliefs were predicated on proven biology as outlined in Darwin’s work. They have many studies showing proof that only the white race is able to use higher thinking skills to benefit the larger society.”
“Larger society? They must have thought these ideas through a sieve to be able to claim such grandiose purposes,” I pointed out.
“Yes, they claim that only a rigid system of selection to get rid of those who are weak or unfit social failures would be effective. They pointed out that we spend untold amounts of money and time treating the undesirables who crowd our jails, hospitals and insane asylums.”
“That’s an obligation we have toward those less fortunate. Fate is a harsh mistress, and we can never know which group we can become part of,” I said.
“I know, Patrick, but these men don’t believe we have the time to treat these defective people. The senator said that the individual can be nourished, educated and protected by the community during his lifetime, but the state, through sterilization, must see to it that his line stops with him or else future generations will be cursed with an ever increasing population of worthless social discards.”
“Good God,” I said, “they want to prevent these humans from procreation?”
“Yes, they believe this sterilization process should extend to an ever wider net of social outcasts, eventually encompassing entire races. The scientist said his group recommends segregating unfavorable races in ghettoes by installing civil organizations through the public health system to establish ethnic dictatorships to control the breeding of these genetically defective races,” said Becky, turning the page of her document.
“What do they say is the preferred race? And who are the inferior races?”
“They call them the Caucasoids, which are the races based in Europe. The other races are the inferior groups, and they call these the Negroids, based in Africa, and the Mongoloids, based in Asia. However, the scientist pointed out, the newer theory divided these three groups into smaller divisions. The Caucasoids are broken into three groups called the Nordics, who inhabited Northern Europe and other parts of the European continent, the Alpines, whose territory included central Europe and parts of Asia, and the Mediterraneans, who lived in Southern Europe, North Africa and the Middle East.”
“It sounds scientific, but how does it relate to the ghettoes?” I asked.
“According to the World Eugenics Collective, the Nordics were the white men par excellence, because all of their inferior genetic qualities were eliminated due to the harsh winters, hard work and the necessity of foresight and industry that was needed to cope with such difficulties. Such demands on energy, if long continued, so goes the theory, would produce a strong, virile, and self-contained race which would inevitably overwhelm in battle nations whose weaker elements had not been purged by the conditions of an equally severe environment. Those races in the other lands were lazy, genetically defective and bred diseases and mental illnesses.”
“Malarkey! I fought along with Negro troops who were the most industrious and heroic men with whom I have ever had the pleasure of doing battle. If I could choose a warrior to go into a battle with me, I would chose a black man over a white one any day!” I said.
“At any rate, this group believes there needs to be a world-wide effort to selectively breed more of the Nordic prototype and exclude and sterilize the other, more inferior stock such as Jews, Chinese and the rest of the dark-skinned people of the world. Now listen to what they think we should do about immigration,” she said.
“I’m listening,” I said, but my blood was beginning to heat up after hearing all of these lies and exaggerations.
“This group wants to restrict immigration to the United States by limiting immigration from Eastern Europe and Southern Europe, as well as the complete end of immigration from East Asia and Africa. They also want to purify the American population through selective breeding.”
“Selective breeding! How do they aim to do that?”
“They would forbid any mixing of the races and make it the law of the land. They have an entire regulation written out, which they call the Racial Integrity Law. This law is to be used in the South to protect the white race down there, and they argue that it would be incorporated into other laws aimed at conserving our natural resources.”
“Conservation? They leap from racist anti-miscegenation law to protection of the environment. How is this leap explained?”
“They believe that much as our wildlife should be protected by the government by constructing natural preserves, so should we do the same for these white Nordics, in order to protect them from the possible pollution from these inferior types. Better yet, they want to create ghettoes to keep these inferiors controlled for the good of humanity, and it is in the ghettoes that they plan to sterilize all of these sub-species before allowing them back into society.”
“How is this any different than slavery? How can they believe this law would ever be passed by congress?” I was livid.
“The senator actually told Annie, my best girl, that he recently wrote a bill in the Senate to place a Congolese pygmy by the name of Ota Benga, on display in the Bronx Zoo alongside the apes!” Becky shrieked.
“What in Mother Mary’s tarnation for?” I was aghast.
“He said the people needed to see how closely this genetically deformed missing link specimen of the Negro race resembled these apes, so they would then understand how we need to keep them separate from the white population.”
“This senator was from New York? What kind of genetic experiment has the electorate been doing to vote this ignorant reprobate into office?” I pounded the arm of the divan so hard that dust flew up into the air.
“I honestly don’t think you realize how large this group has become, Patrick. The scientist and several of the others claim that their organization has over one hundred thousand members world-wide. They have also branched into smaller groups, such as The American Emigrant Company,” she said, and I realized she knew I would see how this final piece of information would affect me.
“This makes what my father has to tell us that much more important. If this company is so closely related to the Eugenics Movement, then what we can find out about the local organization becomes crucial to my case and where I go next to investigate.”
“Yes, and we need to visit your father right now to find out the details. If he were able to join this group, then what he knows could be most impressive,” said Becky, standing up.
“Thank you so very much for all your work on my behalf,” I said, getting up to follow her to the door.
“Don’t thank me yet, big boy. You still have a lot of dangerous snooping to do,” said Becky, looking back at me and smiling.
* * *
It was after business hours in Five Pints Tavern at Five Points, and my father was flailing his arms with excitement the way he had done on the night when my brother Tim was killed by Paul Kelley inside this same bar. He was also drinking a draft beer. My father rarely drinks, and it must have been quite an ordeal at the church for him to need a drink to calm his nerves.
Becky and I sat across from this old man, my father, and we listened in fascination as he explained what had ensued at the meeting of The Emigrant Company.
“Aye, I thought I was back in grammar school. This Mister Burlinga
me was in front preachin’ to us about the races and why their company was going to keep these lower breeds from mixing with us. I was seeing the logic of his words until he stood up this drawing that he said was published in Harper’s Weekly Magazine.”
“Then they must have accepted you into their group,” I interrupted.
“That they did. When I told ‘em my son was a leader in the ’63 Draft Riots, they all started pounding me on me back and praising me. This Burlingame stuffed shirt told me we needed more courageous acts like that one to show the government we can’t be pushed around.”
“What was the drawing you saw that appeared in Harper’s?” Becky asked.
“He showed three drawings. The first was what Burlingame called the Irish Iberian. The second drawing was a nigger, and the third was a mix of the two. He says, calm as you please, that these Iberians were an African race, thousands of years ago, and they came to Ireland and mixed with the Stone Age savages of the South and West to form the Black Irish. I didn’t think I heard him right, so I asks him if he was callin’ the Irish niggers. He looks down at me like I was some ignorant school boy, and says, ‘Most certainly, Mister Jones. It’s a genetic certainty.’ Jones was the name I give ‘em to stay undercover like you told me.”
“I am honored,” said Becky Charming “Jones,” smiling.
“I was not honored by this idiot. I was so angry I couldn’t keep up with the rest of what he had to say. Something about Anglos and Normans and how we was makin’ the world safe for the white race.”
“Don’t worry,” I told him, “we already know about what they believe, Da. Tell us what they have planned. Did you hear about what they might be doing in the way of business?”
“Ah, yes, me boy-o. They’ve been recruiting Jews and Negroes to become laborers in the South. It sounded like they was using ‘em ta work in jobs sponsored by the government.”
“I think I was at one of these recruiting stations today,” I said.
“And then this Burlingame claims that their group was gettin’ big money to send these people down there. Also, he winks at us real sly and says they had these connections in Washington.”
“It sounds like they do have influence in high places, as we expected,” I said.
“Listen, Patty, it don’t end there. After we ate dinner, I was invited by Burlingame into the back room with about ten other men. He says ta me that he needs more supervisors to go down South for a special project, and he wants me ta go. What kind of project, I asks. He tells me this project begins in May and that it’s top secret. He says it’s much bigger than the draft riots, and he thinks I can be trusted. So, I tells him I’d be proud ta go. He hugs me and tells me I would get the details about the project in the coming months.”
I was very proud of what my father had learned. He had the courage to go out of his way to do something for me, and I wanted to repay him in some manner. I knew that he still felt guilty about Tim’s death, so I decided to try to make it up to him.
“Da, Tim was not in his right mind when he picked a fight with Paul Kelley. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. When the demon seizes your mind, you see only what he wants you to see. I know you loved him, but Tim never realized how much he missed Ma. It was eating him up on the inside. He took it all out on the society around him,” I said, and I reached over and touched my father’s large hand.
The beer must have been mellowing his mood because he looked back at me with soft eyes. “I know, Patty. Yer brother was an angry young man. He was angry ‘cause his mother died. He was angry ‘cause he couldn’t enlist like you did. He was also angry ‘cause he couldn’t read the way you did. Were ya aware of that, me boy-o?”
“No, I was not. Did he tell you?”
“Not in so many words. He would just sulk around when you went to yer library. He picked up magazines and newspapers and pretended he was readin’ ‘em. But I knew better. He never got the gift of learnin’ the way you did, Patty. That’s what I wish I could have helped him with.”
“He never let me help him,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. “He was too stubborn, like you. I’m sorry I never tried more to help him,” I said, and I stood up and walked over to my seated father and put my arm around his shoulders. He looked up at me with a distant gaze, as if he were staring through me into another world.
“I know. When yer ma died, I died inside. I’m happy I can help ya now, though. It’s never too late, is it, Son?”
“No, it’s never too late,” I said. “Please keep us informed about this project of yours. I need to investigate some more people, and I also have to think about a way to go down South with you without raising undue suspicion.”
“That I’ll do! Now take this sweet lass home. It’s getting too late on the streets, and it ain’t safe,” said my father, as he escorted us to the front door.
* * *
After I dropped Becky off at her apartment, I started thinking about those suspects I needed to question and why I needed to question them. My foremost suspect was Evon Burlingame because of his role in The American Emigrant Company and its affiliation with the World Eugenics Collective. However, after my visit from Uncle Billy Sherman, I also needed to question General Grant. General Sherman seemed to believe Grant was personally involved with this conspiracy of racial superiority and that I had to make him aware of this “fact” before he lost his job. In addition, I still had Shannon O’Hara on the suspect list as a kidnapper of Dr. Mergenthaler.
As I took my clothes off to retire, I found myself standing naked in front of the full-length mirror on my chiffonier. How was I going to infiltrate this organization without raising any questions as to my allegiances? My body was hairy, and I could see my resemblance to the brutes of our planet, but there was something in the eyes that led me to believe we were of a higher order of species. I remembered William Shakespeare’s quotation from Richard III, “To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes.” My intelligence was shining in those hazel eyes staring back at me. If this World Eugenics Collective worshipped the Nordic race as the supreme goal of humanity, then I would advance the evolutionary ladder one step higher.
The English monarchy had their “Great Chain of Being” in order to rationalize their power over the masses, so I would create another such chain. What kind of chain would that be? Perhaps a chain that reached beyond our lonely planet and into the heavens, yes, but not a God-like heaven of divine bliss but an evolutionary chain of being from a far superior world on another planet. Yes! I would become Dr. Ronald Wentworth from Oxford University, London. My theory of interplanetary evolution would give these men something to ponder, all right. Of course, I would need Becky’s help to concoct my credentials and provide my disguise. She knew enough important and educated people to allow me to perfect my scheme into a scientific presentation.
Of course, I would argue, only the white man was the beneficiary of the inherited gifts from these Martian space travelers, and I would assure them that my theory did not damage their racist outlook one iota. I would merely be showing them that I was one step ahead on the learning curve, and they would, as a result, embrace me like a long-lost brother. Perhaps then I would also be able to accompany them down south to see what this special May project of theirs was.
As I strutted before the mirror, my mind filled with the possible “science” of my scheme:
My people came from the planet Mars. We, like you, evolved through Darwinian natural selection, since our environment is similar to yours. However, many thousands of years ago, my leaders decided to transport our sperm to other planets because we had evolved to a far superior state of biological strength and mental wisdom. Thus, we traveled by our flying space vehicles, and we landed on your planet, this Mother Earth, and we found the crude beginnings of Homo sapiens. Beings were walking the earth, but they did not own the ability to invent and to control their environment, as we did. We therefore decided to inject these be
ings with our seed, and thus the miracle of interstellar evolution began! We gave you the gift of our genus, and then we had to leave. There are many billions of planets in this great universe, and they also needed our help. Without our seed, no planet could evolve the perfect white overlords to keep the races in their places and to create the new and exciting inventions of the future. Gentlemen, you must believe me. Without us, your evolution will never reach the magical heights that we have reached. With us and our seed, you will evolve into the following beings, as long as you keep your species pure and untainted by the mongrel hordes:
Your skin will evolve into a greenish color.
You will have very large almond shaped eyes.
You will only have three fingers.
You will have the ability to move objects with your minds, and you will be totally telepathic and communicate silently with your thoughts.
Your source of food will be an effervescent type of liquid revitalizing to your entire being.
Your eyes will become a dark brown or black color.
Your main source of seeing will actually be through a telepathic nature, not your physical eyes.
Your sense of hearing will even transcend your telepathic nature.
You will also have ability to sense with the back of your heads.
Your average life span will be like ours, from 350 to 400 of your earth years.
Ultimately, in the future, your highly developed spiritual nature will allow you to never age, since you will then have the ability to transcend time and space.
We terminate your lives when the contract that has been arranged for your existence is up.
There is also no sickness on Mars, as it was eliminated centuries ago, and so it shall be on Earth in the future.