As it became obvious the war was drawing to what I imagined was a 'successful' close, I began to plan my life as an artist, a life I had envisioned ever since high school. I sent enquiries everywhere to find out which school was the best for commercial art. The general consensus seemed to be Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York.
After the round of family reunions up and down the East Coast, therefore, I stopped in Brooklyn at the famous old school and received a rude shock. It was not just a matter of deciding which school I would attend, but a matter of which school I could fight my way into. With millions of veterans pouring out of the services and flocking to avail themselves of the free education under the 'G.I. Bill, I was only one of thousands trying to enter Pratt. And when I looked at the work of some of the students at the school which was hanging on the display boards, I was appalled at my own amateurishness. I feared I could never make the grade. Nevertheless, I took the tests, drew the samples and then went up to Maine to await results. My wife and I had rented the lower floor of an old sea-farer's home in East Boothbay.
I had already learned that, even if admitted, I could not make the 1945-1946 term, so I prepared to go to work and study at home as best I could until the next fall. I bought some books on sign-painting, some brushes and equipment, and practiced long hours over an old breadboard which was leaned up against a windowbox full of smelly geraniums.
When I considered that I was able to paint a readable sign, I hung a poster in the front window of the house reading "Signs painted free by returned serviceman who desires practice." For a long while there were no takers of even this bargain. But I was also offering around town to do any odd photography work for a buck and got a few jobs this way.
One of these photography jobs almost got me run out of town. The local Eastern Star, through some good friends, offered me the exceptional honor of taking pictures of some quite secret ceremony. it seems the affair was a very rare occurrence and they wanted photographs of the important ladies and their ceremonial vestments. I duly appeared and took flash pictures of the solemn proceedings, doing my best to stay in the background, but somehow managing to get in the way of the hefty ladies who paraded around and around in some kind of pattern of the utmost meaning. When the action was completed, the victorious participants lined up with a great deal of difficulty, carefully observing seniority and diplomatic protocol, for a group picture. There was no mistaking the historical urgency of the atmosphere there. Never again would such an illustrious group of magnificent Past Masters, Past Grand Matrons, Present Grand Matrons, Great Grand Past Matrons, Grand High Past Secretaries, etc., be assembled in all their plumage, their glorious badges and ribbons of high office.
I managed to get my lights connected right, my camera set and my flashes organized, and even remembered to pull the dark slide out of the camera. I snapped this never-to-be-recaptured historical moment and felt that I had it in the bag. I was promised a dollar a print from many of those present, and the operation seemed to be a great success.
My darkroom consisted of a closet with an old-fashioned chain-pull toilet in our ancient apartment, and unbelievably crude, home-made and makeshift equipment. I rushed home to this 'laboratory" and pre
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managed to win a place in the next year's class. I felt that I had already conquered half of the world. With such a great 'victory', I was able to convince Judy that we ought to have a baby! Both of us had heard that having a baby sometimes 'warms up' a wife, and I dearly wanted children anyway. Besides, we had begun to have a pretty good time, going on long walks together and playing like two kids. With a place at Pratt secured and our marriage showing signs of life, I felt pretty good.
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money, which we did not mention), but it was slow work, even with gallons of beer. He had a convertible and an easy life; and, with the iron conservatism of his family and Maine in general, he couldn't see much sense in the hair-raising schemes we outlined for getting started on a shoestring - his shoestring. He was a quiet, extremely likeable guy, but stolid as a stone Buddha. It took us weeks to 'catch' him but finally we did it. The only trouble was, as we learned later, he caught us!
The company was formed as "Maine Advertising, Inc." at 53 Exchange Street, Portland, Maine. The capital was supplied by Payson, with equal shares to the three of us - Al and I signing notes to Norton for our shares, which were to be paid back out of profits. Payson's uncle managed the Jock Whitney estate in New York and his father's lawyers very kindly arranged the deal. I was president, Al Bonney was secretary and Norton was treasurer.
Al and I ran around and sold like mad, mostly from the imaginative ads which I sketched up and the customers liked better than those they had. We piled up a good batch of accounts and even sold clients space in Newsweek, an unheard of triumph for a Maine-based agency. But then we ran into serious trouble. The magazines and radio stations would not trust us, although we promised to pay when the clients paid us. Cash on the barrelhead was what they wanted, and cash was what we didn't have. But Norton did.
Within a matter of weeks, Norton's lawyers arranged another deal. Norton became head of the agency, with me the Art Director - on a salary in the back room - and Al out as a salesman! The Jews love to refer to this as one of my 'failures', but it was part of my apprenticeship for the job I now have, and a hard school it was. In so far as I got nothing out of it financially, I was a failure, but I did establish a successful agency in Maine - which "couldn't be done." It is there now, as Simonds Payson Company, the biggest in Maine, with huge clients like Bath Iron Works.
Because of my 'failure', young Maine men who formerly gave their talents and earnings and taxes to Massachusetts now have a wonderful opportunity to help their state grow and to bring up their families in a great state, while the clients themselves are serviced right on the spot by top talent. If this is a 'failure', then I hope the Nazi Party will also be such a 'failure',,regardless of whether or not I personally 'get anything out of it'.
Payson got into business with another man who was supposed to have a lot of advertising experience: Doug Fosdick of Lewiston. The production department was moved up there, which included me, the Art Director. My wife and Bonnie and I took a little apartment in the French Canadian city of Lewiston and I dug into the day-to-day grind of advertising agency work. Meanwhile, my 'complementary prize' for winning the illustration competition appeared. Little Nancy Rockwell was born in a Lewiston hospital and once again, we went through the routine of fighting off the breast-binders and pill-pushers.
I got my first introduction about this time to 'office politics'. Payson and Fosdick were frequently at loggerheads, and these two titans of finance often had us peasants upset over the insecurity of what was next,. Such conditions inevitably produced intrigue and conniving among the growing staff - and how I hated it! I longed to devote myself to the creation and production of advertisements, and was doing pretty well at it, when the blow up came. Fosdick split off. We were all moved back to Portland.
The atmosphere in the office was now very different for me. Payson had become an important executive and businessman. He was unhappy with me too close, to remind him how he got started. I didn't mention this, of course, but it was inevitable that he would feel it himself. Al Bonney was eased out, and I could see that it was only a question of time before I, too, would find it simply too difficult to remain. My request for a raise from $75, as the company got more prosperous, was denied by Norton.
I resolved once more to launch a personal assault on the business world, this time for the benefit of my family and myself. Millions of tourists come annually to Maine, but there was no overall and reliable guide for these people as to what was going on, where, when, etc. I designed The Olde Maine Guide to fill this need and started working to get it out for the summer. In the meantime, to feed the family, I started a little radio guide, What Next?, which divided programs by type, a new idea at that time.
I sold my little ads successfully and got What Next? going very well, with people actually subscribing for money, a reaction I had not expected. Then I got the ads sold for the Guide and managed to get it published all through the summer, even winning the endorsement of the Maine State Junior Chamber of Commerce. But the financial struggle to stay alive was deadly, and my family lived in a little cottage at Falmouth Foreside in the most heartbreaking poverty and misery.
It was in that little cottage that I first heard the voice and the words which eventually led to my present political career. One night I heard a man on the radio saying that there were Communists in the American State Department and all over our government; that there was great danger of subversion from the Communist Conspiracy right here in America! He said we had to learn about it and fight it!
I listened enthralled. I couldn't believe that there was such a man left in our government. In his voice there was courage and calm force. He did not sound like the pansies with the faint British accents (phony), which I had heard from Washington before. He spoke like a man and a leader!
Who was he? I waited impatiently to hear his name. Then they announced it: Senator Joseph R. McCarthy of Wisconsin! I whooped and hollered for Joe McCarthy! It seemed like a voice from another planet - a wonderful, patriotic, American voice - a voice which almost seemed to come from inside myself.
But, much as I liked what I heard, it was no more than a very exciting passing thought at the time. I was deep in the business of surviving. As usual in my career, I was succeeding at something which needed badly to be done and winning the plaudits of the multitude, but not their dollars. My financial position was almost impossible and my wife was struggling under fearful conditions. Often we would have nothing to eat but a can of beans donated by Russ Edwards, a man who worked for me, but who also owned a small summer hotel nearby.
Nevertheless, the Guide was doing so well that I had been asked by businessmen in Boston to see about putting out a Guide down there. I was in Boston, discussing this possibility, when the news came that the Navy had recalled me to active duty because of the Korean War. I was ordered to San Diego, to report within ten days!
It was a blessing and a curse all at once. It meant the end of the terrible poverty, but it also meant the end of the business for which I had striven so hard and which was on the point ofpaying me a return. I had been recalled, I believe, mostly because there was a tremendous need in the Korean War for air support of the hard-pressed ground troops. That had been one of my specialties in World War II. The jump from near-starvation to the pay of a flying Lieutenant Commander was a financial relief, if nothing else, so I prepared to report to the Navy for another war.
The horrible living conditions and the poverty of the last few months had almost wrecked what was left of my first marriage. My wife had taken the children to her grandmother's place in Hadlyme, Connecticut, so I went ahead, alone, to San Diego, which I thought was a mistake. So it was that I started off in 1950 with an almost new Nash and drove from Portland, Maine, to San Diego, California. As I did, I left behind forever my place as an ordinary American citizen. I was about to become a convinced Nazi in San Diego and start the career which has led me so far to embattled notoriety all over the earth, and which will one day place me at the head of millions of Americans who now imagine they hate me and all I stand for.
The shock of suddenly becoming an officer and a gentleman again, with cash in my pocket, was considerable. But that was nothing compared to the jolt of finding myself again in a hot little Navy fighter after five years of hardly seeing an airplane. No sooner had I arrived than I was given the hottest thing with a prop - an F8F Bearcat - and told to check out.
Of everything I have ever flown, the F8 is my all-time favorite. It will take off and go straight up like a rocket. It is all engine. In fact, the individual wings are smaller than the engine itself! You sit on the floor of the tiny cockpit, with your legs wrapped around the tiny hydraulic stick and the engine. It has so much power, you have to let it all out once in a while on a flight or the engine fouls up. It is like riding a lightning bolt. When you goose the throttle it goes! The fastest jet in the sky has not the acceleration and drive of that little bumble bee. The jets go a whole lot faster, but they never seem as fast or as hot. The F8 is the 'hot-rod' of the sky, and how I loved it! You can roll it around and around, going almost straight up and tear up the sky like a tiger. It maneuvers so fast and so cute that you can beat anything in the air which tries to stay with you, including jets.
We used these deadly little hornets to train Marine and Navy pilots in the close air support of troops. We had perfected the techniques so well that we could work within fifty or a hundred yards of combat troops. To do it, we instructed our pilots to concentrate on map-reading, terrain identification and efficient communications. Half the time, we taught them in ground school classes at Coronado and the other half over at El Centro, where we rocketed and bombed all day in the desert. My specialty was vision-training and search tactics. The commander of the Pacific Fleet Aircraft wrote me a special commendation for my methods, which helped hundreds of Navy and Marine pilots to chew up the Reds in Korea.
When I had been able to find and furnish a house, my wife, Bonnie and Nancy flew out to join me. Family life was resumed on a relatively happy note. The weather is almost too perfect in San Diego, so that we enjoyed countless picnics, outings and daily barbecues under our own orange tree in the back yard. I also decided to save money by raising our own chickens and purchased a flock of layers and hatched chicks to fry.
But this was also the time that General Douglas MacArthur was being summarily fired by the midget of history, Harry Truman, in the most humiliating manner; while Senator Joe McCarthy was belting away at the coterie of reds, queers and pinkos in Washington who were basically responsible for the general's dismissal. I began to pay attention, in my spare time, to what it was all about. I read McCarthy's speeches and pamphlets and found them factual, not wildly nonsensical as the papers charged. I became aware of a terrific slant in all the papers against Joe McCarthy, although I still couldn't imagine why.
I had known and respected Douglas MacArthur, and we have since corresponded. I thought he would make the greatest president of the United States. When there was a campaign to get him the Republican nomination in 1950, 1 wanted to do what I could to help. I read a letter in The San Diego Union from a woman who lamented that no one would help her get a MacArthur rally going, so I called the lady, whose name I have forgotten, and offered what help I could give. She was very grateful and invited me to her little cottage where she lived in retirement with her husband. I started to tell her all the things I thought could be done, but she smiled with a patient, sad smile and stopped me.
"No," she said, "you can't get a-. hall so easily, even if you pay. They won't rent one!"
"What do you mean?" I blurted. "Who won't rent one?"
She looked queerly and quizzically at her husband, clearly asking him with her eyes about something. He just shook his head.
"Who won't rent you a hall?" I repeated, looking from him to her.
She took a deep breath, looking pained, and said, "The Jews."
"The Jews!" I exclaimed. "What have the Jews got to do with it? What do they care whether you get a hall or not?"
"They hate MacArthur!" she said, and started to say something else when I interrupted her.
"Hate him? That's silly! I suppose some of them do, but certainly not all of them, and certainly none of them hate him enough to stop you from hiring a hall for a MacArthur rally!"
She took another deep breath, looking hurt. "It's true," she said. "They all hate him! Look at this, for instance." She handed me a copy of The California Jewish Voice. There it was: "MacArthur Approaches: Hitler Enters the Chancellory!" The paper went on to rave about how General MacArthur was a threat, another potential Hitler! I couldn't believe it.
"That's only one paper!" I countered. "It's probably just an extremist sheet. I'm sure the Jews don't imagine MacArthur is really another Hitler!"
She showed me another Jewish paper. Its tone was more dignified, but same message was there. She showed me still other Jew papers. In most of them were vile pictures of Joe McCarthy, terrible charges against him and MacArthur and unmistakable venom for both these men.
This is the experience which awaits every honest American, but is usually hard to come by, as might be imagined. I had suddenly been exposed to a whole secret world which the average American never even imagines and never sees: the world of the Jews. In the same Jewish Voice I saw the headlines by the editor, Sammy Gach: "Thank God!" - the day the Soviet Union got the A-bomb!
I saw hundreds of similarly treasonable items, but our people are too insulated and easy-going to look into this Jewish press. Sooner or later, no matter how long the average American is kept in the dark or keeps himself in the dark by imagining that discovering treason against his country and people is 'bigotry', he will find the naked evidence of this unified, alien, fanatical Jewish world in the midst of his own people - implacable, hateful, spiteful, bitter and diabolically clever at appearing to be only a persecuted religious group.
The whole thing, however, still didn't register with me. It was too fantastic. I felt sure there was some misrepresentation, somehow. But the lady gave me some books and papers to take home to study and I left.
When I got home, I looked at the first paper. It was called Common Sense and the headline was "Red Dictatorship by 1954!" 1 figured right away that I had found the source of this monstrous 'Jewish scare' which the lady had told me about. The story was all about a Jewish world plot and I couldn't finish reading it. It seemed too silly and disgusting for an intelligent man to waste his time on. But in the few lines I did read, Common Sense gave what it claimed were startling "facts" about the jewishness of Communism and the 'Russian' Revolution. It listed as the sources of some of these unbelievable facts The Universal Jewish Encyclopedia and various official U.S. Government documents.
This seemed like an excellent opportunity to spike such a fantastic idea as that of Communism being Jewish and I decided to check out these supposed "facts". I went over to the San Diego Public Library in Balboa Park and dug around in the volumes mentioned in Common Sense. Down there in the dark stacks of the library, I got my awakening from thirty years of stupid political sleep, the same deadly sleep now closing the eyes of our people and making them cooperate with their enemies in their own destruction - all in the name of 'good citizenship', 'brotherhood' and all the rest of the shibboleths of 'nice' people - the same hypnotic sleep which we are breaking up with our calculated and dramatic Nazi tactics!
I found that Communism was not only Jewish, but the Jews boasted about its Jewishness in their own books and papers! Rabbi Stephen Wise, for instance, the acknowledged leader of American Jewry for many years, openly and arrogantly laid claim to the Jewish nature of the Communist doctrines with his oft-repeated statement in regard to the Jewish religion: "Some call it Communism; I call it Judaism!"
I found, in unimpeachable documents and intelligence studies by our own U.S. Government that the Russian Revolution was not 'Russian' at all, but almost wholly led by Jews! In the Overman Report to President Wilson, for instance, it said: "...out of 388 members of the first Soviet Government, sitting in the Old Smolny Institute in Petrograd, 371 were Jews and 267 of these Jews were from the Lower East Side of New York City"! Not even Russian Jews, but New York Jews!
I learned, from the article called "Khazars" in The Universal Jewish Encyclopedia, published by Jews, that most Jews are not even Semites or descendants of the Hebrew people of Palestine, and thus of Christ's people, but mostly the descendants of a semi-oriental tribe in central Russia called "Khazars" or "Chazars", whose king, Bulaban, in the sixth century after Christ, ordered his people en masse to become "Jews". I discovered that these 'Jews', called 'Ashkenazim' in the 'trade', as distinguished from the real, Semitic Jews, called 'Sephardim', constitute the bulk and the leadership of the people we call "Jews". It is swarms of these 'Khazars', with their oriental heritage, who are pushing us around, forcing integration on us, degrading our culture with their filthy 'art' of chaos and pornography and, worst of all, spreading the disease of Communism - all the while hiding in the robes of the Jewish 'religion'.
I went on to find, in old copies of The New York journal American, that Jacob Schiff, then head of the gigantic financial empire called "Kuhn, Loeb & Company" and grandfather of the woman who now owns the super-left-wing New York Post, "sank over twenty million dollars in the Russian Revolution", financing another Jew, Bronstein, alias Trotsky, in the murder of the masses of Christian and anti-Communist White Russians!
Most surprising and revealing of all was the often invisible connection between a seemingly pure Gentile Connnunist and the inevitable Jew, lurking just behind. Lenin, not a Jew, was married to Krupskaya, a Jewess. Stalin, also not a Jew, was married to the sister of Lazar Kaganovitch - Rose, a Jewess. Stalin's son married another Jewess and it turns out that Khruschev was the protege of this same Jew, and married another Jewess in the Kaganovitch family!
The pattern was the same in the United States: Alger Hiss, a non-Jew, was the protege of Felix Frankfurter, a Jew, of course. Elizabeth Bentley was the ,mistress of Jacob Golos, supposed to be a 'Russian', but actually another Jew. Fredrick Vanderbilt Field, the Gentile millionaire Communist, again, was married to a Jewess. Whittaker Chambers, another Gentile Communist (who recanted), married to still another Jewess!
In the satellite countries, it was the same. More Jews! Even that sacred 'friend of America', Tito, is the protege of Moise Pijade, another Khazar Jew, who does the 'suggesting' for the strutting Mr. Tito.
In the U.S.A., the F.B.I. was catching hordes of Jew spies: Rosenberg, Greenglas, Soble, Coplin, Moskowitz, Weinbaum, Fuchs, Golos - the names - alone were unrnistakeable, although some were changed, as in the case of John Gates, editor of The Daily Worker, whose real name turned out to be Israel Regenstreif! But the pictures of these camel-like faces were more than enough to identify these Jew spies!
Out of forty-one workers with Communist records at our secret radar laboratories in Fort Monmouth, thirty-nine turned out to be Jews! Out of fifteen Americans convicted of espionage for the Soviet Union since 1946, thirteen were Jews. Out of twenty-one convicted of Communist conspiracy to destroy the U.S. Government by illegal force and violence, eighteen were Jews. When the F.B.I. nabbed the "Second-string Politburo" of seventeen, fourteen of the traitors were identified as Jews! Out of the "Hollywood Ten" who took the Fifth Amendment when asked if they were Communists, nine were Jews!
I looked into The Daily Worker and found the atmosphere to be strictly 'kosher'. There were touching "In Memory of" ads to "Our dear Mother" from Bernie, Abie, Izzy and Nathan Ginzberg; notices of picnics at "Weinbaum's lovely Grove", etc.
In Russia, where I had understood anti-Semitism was running rampant, I found the Jews boasting that the head of Soviet propaganda was a Jew: Ilya Ehrenburg! With all the Jews being caught red-handed as Red spies, is it surprising that the Jew, Ehrenburg, head of Soviet propaganda, wishes to spread the idea that the Communists are "anti-Jewish"?
Even in Japan and China, I found the early planters of the Communist seeds were Jewish. In Japan there was an Anna Rosenberg, and guess who turned up in China as advisor to Sun Yat Sen? Good old George Sokolsky, our'conservative' columnist!
To an intelligent man, the facts were undeniable. They might be explainable, but they were simply undeniable. Communism was Jewish! And the Jews in the United States were almost unanimous in their venomous hatred and suppression of anybody who so much as asked about this fact. Even noticing the number of Jewish Communists and race-mixers brought the unfortunate victim an hysterical campaign against him as a "hate-monger"! The same people who screamed the loudest for 'academic freedom' to preach Communism were the ones who were most merciless in their campaign of suppression against anyone wishing to discuss the Jews in anything but the most fulsome and disgusting praise. The Jews were unanimous in hating McCarthy and MacArthur, with one or two negligible exceptions - which I later found were planned so there would be exceptions, such as Joe McCarthy's "Rabbi" Shultz.
I found this exciting, interesting and frightening, but also very depressing. Far down in my soul I could feet the cold dread of our fate, if what seemed to be going on was going, on I, too, had been brought up never to say the word "Jew" right out, but always "Jewish person" or "person of the'jewish faith", because of what the Bible calls "fear of the Jews." I could imagine the result of my own temperament and my reaction to a challenge if I were to find out that there really was a Jewish plot against my country and my people!
I went back to the papers and books the lady had given me and read them carefully. The tone of the articles, in most cases, repelled me. They were loose in their charges, poorly gotten up, and full of rabid sensationalism, but they kept revealing new pearls of fact, which I found checked out. And when I put all the facts together as best I could, there was no question about it: There was a Jewish plot of some kind or another and it definitely involved Communism and moral subversion.
I went back to the lady and we talked some more, with me doing the listening this time. She was mixed up and confused in many ways, but she knew there were dark forces at work to destroy her country and our White people, and she had the fundamental ideas right. She asked me if I wanted to go hear a man named Gerald L.K. Smith. I remembered the name vaguely, as some kind of horrible radical or other. But she said he was a great American patriot and a great speaker, and gave me a ticket to a speech he was making in Los Angeles.
I was afraid to go, since I was in the Navy, and the whole thing seemed so wild and radical and dangerous. I went to the F.B.I. office and asked to see an agent. I was ushered into a private little chamber and seated opposite a handsome, Nordic-looking man. I told him about Smith and asked if it would be all right to go to his lecture.
"Yes, if you don't participate," he said.
So I went to the speech, and what a thing that was! Few Americans today have ever heard an orator. They have heard talks, speeches, even ravings, perhaps, but it is doubtful they have ever heard an old-fashioned, roof-lifting, earth-shaking, soul-shattering oration. Gerald Smith is the master to end all masters of the human voice. Whatever else he may be, he can seize you by the lapels of your soul, jerk you out of your seat and hold you helpless and spellbound as long as he wants. He does not just roar and bellow. He whispers, he sighs, he wheezes, he coos; then he blasts with the power of a locomotive roaring through a tunnel. He laughs, he cries, he howls, he cajoles, he mimics, he screams, he begs, he goes back to whispering, sneers, leers, yells, bursts into hysterical laughter, then whimpers some heart-rending bit which leaves you limp.
I sat in the balcony, literally on the edge of my seat. If Smith had said suddenly, "Jump!" - I think I would have done it.
I have not heard him for almost ten years, now and he is perhaps losing his steam. He will have nothing to do with me any more and hides under an assumed name in the Congressional Hotel when he comes to Washington, D.C. But he is still the grandest master of the spoken word alive today, and I would walk twenty miles to hear him again.
But it was not just the way he spoke which captivated me - it was what he said. When you peeled away all the emotional overtones of his speech, and got down to the raw meat, you found the basic elements of recognizable truth, beautifully put together to show, at last, the clear pattern of what it is the Jews are trying to do with their conspiracy.
He had books for sale, among them The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion. These I studied carefully. The Jews howl bitterly that they are a forgery, but this is as irrelevant as claiming that a man did not commit a murder with one particular knife, but another knife altogether. It matters not which knife was used. The fact is that somebody did a murder. The Protocols, first put in the British Museum at the turn of the century, long before World War I or II, set forth with horrible clarity exactly what some group would bring about in the way of world wars, inflations, depressions and moral subversions; how they would do it and to whom they would do it.
Sixty years later, not one word has failed of fulfillment exactly as set forth in The Protocols. if they are "forged", then it was done by a genius who knew exactly what the Jews of the world would do for sixty years, with not partial, but perfect accuracy. The Protocols alone, of all knowledge on this earth, give one the power to predict successfully historical events, as I have been able to do since studying them. A theory which enables scientific, calculated prediction is not the mark of a fraud, but always the mark of a realistic theory.
Henry Ford Sr. said of The Protocols, thirty years ago, that they were being ruthlessly fulfilled, which was enough proof for him of their genuineness. Adolf Hitler ten years later said the same thing. Any man who takes the trouble to read these astounding documents will find the same thing. If they were not written by a Jew, they were written with devilish accuracy about the Jews. They enabled humanity, for the first time, to understand what before seemed impossible chaos. All the chaos, the mad 'art', the Communism, the moral filth, the control of the press and entertainment, the development of world wars, the insane setting of labor against capital and vice versa - all these things become calculated elements of a steadily-progressing plan by a nation or race, masquerading throughout the world as a 'religion' in order to accomplish this awful work of destruction under the cover of 'religious tolerance'.
When history is examined, we find this nation steadily and surely progressing toward its goal as "God's Chosen People", who are destined to quietly conquer and subdue the world under the bloody, old-testament despotism of the "King of Zion".
As I researched into the subject of Zionism, I found the Jews not even bothering to cover up this aim of world domination. With the most monumental disdain for the boobs they call goyim (non-Jews), they openly declare that they spurned offers of much better national "homes" for the Jews than Palestine; places where it would not have been necessary to exile and make homeless a million helpless Arabs, but the Jews arrogantly demand Palestine "because it is the center of the world"! Not because it is a biblical promise, but because it is the cross-roads of all the earth between three continents, and their chosen seat of eventual world power.
I am aware as I write this of the outrage upon reason of such statements. I my self suffered this outrage when I first considered or heard of the ideas. But I can assure the reader that I would not lightly set these things forth in such a permanent thing as a book, which will be around a long time to haunt me if I am frivolous or in error. For ten years, now, since I read The Protocols, I have observed the world not going of its own accord, but being steadily and inexorably pushed down the exact paths set forth in these supposed "forgeries" written more than half a century ago. With the election of Kennedy now almost sure, as I write this, The Protocols are rapidly approaching total and final fulfilment.
Wide awake now, after reading and studying all I could, I began to think realistically for the first time in my life, instead of according to the slogans to which I had been trained since babyhood; slogans I had never even thought to question, such as "you mustn't judge people by groups, but only as individuals."
When you come to think of it, the latter is madness! We sank German, Jap and Italian subs during the war without asking which ones of the crew were Nazis, Militarists or Fascists. We sank them all. I hated Roosevelt, but the Japs and Germans were not too careful about shooting at me, along with the New Dealers who were so anxious to get into the war.
When you see a nun, you do not inquire as to the health of her kids, nor do you invite 86-year-old men on a parachute jumping party, even though a few of such age, like Bernard MacFadden, may sometimes do such things. You might fairly expect a Chinaman in a small town to be in the laundry or restaurant business, and a Sicilian member of the Mafia to be mixed up in some kind of crime. Nor is it sensible to insist that skirts are not an indication of females, just because Scotsmen are found in skirts, too, although they are called "kilts". Nobody would be considered mad for presuming a member of the Ku Klux Klan to be a racist, nor a member of the Americans for Democratic Action to hate the Klan. By the same token, simply because we base our views on the weight of previous evidence, we are not crazy or'hate-mongers' when we presume that any given, unknown Jew is a Zionist or a Communist. The probability that he is one of the two and at least sympathetic to Communism is overwhelming.
About the only way we can and do judge people, until we get to know them extremely well, is by the group to which they belong. If that group has proved over a long period of time, by its actions, that it is hostile to us, it is not 'hate' or 'bigotry' to consider unknown members of that group also hostile, unless and until we learn differently about the particular member who is an exception to the rule.
The Jews have calculatingly deprecated this utterly necessary rule of daily living and cultivated the opposite, insane idea that we must presume every individual to be a 'blank', no matter what the evidence of his being a cannibal or a Sicilian or an Irishman or a Swede, all in order to keep people from noticing that a devilish lot of Jews are Communists and therefore traitors!
Once one has realized that the Jews are not 'just a religious group' and a pitiful, persecuted one at that - but a racial and nationalistic group in our midst - then one can see the obvious fact that most of the individual members of this group can be expected to be certain things, namely, Communists, Zionists and race-mixers. This does not mean, of course, that all of the group must be a certain thing, any more than all Germans are Nazis and all Italians are Catholics.
The Jew-Communist-Zionist-traitor situation is much like that of the Mafia. Everybody knows that the Mafia is mostly Italians and mostly gangsters, but that does not mean that all Italians are gangsters or all gangsters are Italian. On the other hand, the principle the Jews want to suppress is that a member of the Mafia is probably an Italian and probably a gangster. Only madmen would put a member of the group called "Mafia" in charge of their police department. Yet, this is exactly what the United States has 'strangely' done with its deadly atomic and hydrogen bomb. From Lillienthal to Strauss, we have put almost nobody else but Jews in charge of atomic weapons and programs, although Jews have constituted over 80% of our atomic spies and Communists! Lillienthal, Oppenheimer, Teller, Strauss, Rickover, LeMay, Isadore Rabi, etc. - always more of the same deadlypattern. We are not to judge Jews as a group, although their group is somehow always in control of the key spots!
As Winston Churchill pointed out, the driving power and leadership of the Marxist forces is Jewish, and most Jews are at least sympathetic to Communism in one form or another, and they cover-up for Communists by screaming "hate-monger" at real anti-Communists. But by no means are all Jews Communists, nor are all Communists Jews. The scientific truth is simply that, on the basis of undeniable statistics, an unknown Jew is probably, but not certainly, pro-Marxist, whether he be a Communist, Trotskyite or just a race-mixing liberal.
As I studied and thought my way further into the chaos of our national madness, I began to wonder why we had gone to war on the side of the Bolsheviks who had openly bragged for a hundred years of their plans to destroy us by force and violence, lies and subversion; while we completely wrecked Christian Germany, which never had a single highly-placed spy in our country and no practical chance of conquering the world, as I had believed they were trying to do. I wondered about Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. I had learned he was right about the Jews. It might be worth reading his book to see if he had anything else right, too.
I hunted around the San Diego bookshops and finally found a copy of Mein Kampf, hidden away in the rear. I bought it, took it home and sat down to read. And that was the end of Lincoln Rockwell as the 'nice guy', the dumb 'Goy' and the beginning of an entirely different person.
Mein Kampf was like finding part of me. Chaos and disorder and mental 'grayness' are immensely frustrating to me and I had suffered for years trying to fathom the bottomless philosophical, social and political mess in the world and the even messier explanations offered by religions and sociology. Over and over I had said to myself, "There must be some sense, some logical causal relationship between social and political facts as to how they got that way!" But no person, no book, nor my own mind had been able to discover head or tail to these things. I simply suffered from the vague, unhappy feeling that things were 'wrong', without knowing exactly how and that there must be a way of diagnosing the 'disease' and its causes, and making intelligent, organized efforts to correct that 'something wrong'.
In Mein Kampf I found abundant 'mental sunshine' which bathed all the gray world suddenly in the clear light of reason and understanding. Word after word, sentence after sentence stabbed into the darkness like lightning bolts of revelation, tearing and ripping away the cobwebs of more than thirty years of darkness; brilliantly illuminating the heretofore obscure reasons for the world's madness.
I was transfixed, hypnotized. I could not lay the book down without agonies of impatience to get back to it. I read it walking to the squadron, I took it into the air and read it, propped up on the chartboard, while I automatically gave the instructions to the other planes circling over the desert. I read it on the Coronado Ferry. I read it into the night and resumed the next morning. When I had finished, I started again and reread every word, underlining and marking especially magnificent passages. I studied it, thought about it and wondered at the utter, indescribable genius of it.
How could the world not only ignore such a book, but damn it and curse it and hate it, and pretend that it was a plan for 'conquering' the world, when it was the most obvious and rational plan for saving the world which has ever been written? Had nobody read it, I wondered, that people went around saying it was the work of a mad "rug-chewer"? How could sensible people get away with such monstrous intellectual fraud? Why was it so hated and cursed? I could see why the Jews would hate and curse it, but why my own people?
I reread and studied it some more. Slowly, bit by bit, I began to understand. I realized that National Socialism, the iconoclastic world-view of Adolf Hitler, was the doctrine of scientific, racial idealism, actually, a new 'religion' for our times. I saw that I was living in the age of a new world-view. Two thousand years ago there had been a similar rise of a new approach or world-view, called a 'religion'; a world-view which shook and changed the world forever.
I realized that this new and wonderful doctrine of scientific truth applied ruthlessly to man himself, as well as to Nature and inanimate matter, and that it was the only thing which could save man from his own degradation in luxury, self-seeking short-sightedness and racial degeneration. The doctrine of Adolf Hitler was the new 'Christianity' of our times, and Adolf Hitler himself was the new 'savior', sent by inscrutable Providence recurrently to rescue a collapsing humanity.
Hitler's and Germany's 'crucifixion' was all according to the inevitable workings of this unknowable Scenarist. Even the eleven hanged disciples in Nurnburg were not without significance! The most hated and dreaded idea two thousand years ago was Christianity, and the most hated and cursed man on earth was Jesus Christ. His followers were bitterly persecuted and murdered by the 'good', 'sensible' people who could see that anybody in his right mind recognized Rome and the Empire as the solid, substantial reality. I realized that today's Marxist-Democratic world is another sprawling 'Roman Empire', and today's Nazis the early 'Christians'. What is going on is far more than a battle for political supremacy in the present social and political situation. it is the utter smashing and destruction of a society which has become so rotten that it will tolerate and even love its own Marxist destroyers, just as it hates, despises and fears the slowly-growing Nazi society which will replace it. Such mighty, awesome thoughts come to a man but once in a lifetime, if ever, and when they do, that man changes for all time.
At once, a great weight lifted off my soul. I knew that I had found my way to the sun at last and the days of mental darkness, searching and endless frustration were over. But at the same time, an immensely heavy burden replaced it, but in a different, even satisfying way. I knew that I had to, I must do what I could, to spread the new and wonderful idea and secure its victory in the collapsing world - no matter what it cost me, or even if I were to become a 'failure' to be 'fed to the lions' in the 'Colosseum'.
I was as sure then as I am now that it will be done. Nothing can stop the victory of what is now a historical necessity, determined by events beyond our control. The Marxists have pretended that they too are historically determined, but they are out of time-phasing. They were fated to rise to the top, and they have. They have had their victory. Now it is all over, no matter how mighty and terrifying their power and their 'Roman Empire' may appear to be.
Today, they are in the Kremlin and the White House, wearing different masks to be sure, but nevertheless grinding the whole world under the brutal heel of the Marxist doctrines of "mass" and "equality" and racial defilement. Their 'Roman Legions', of which I was so long a part, march and destroy everything which dares oppose them. They 'crucify' the whole German Nation and the daring apostles of the Great Man when they speak one word about his genius. But the Marxists themselves have spoken their funeral oration when they said that each thing contains within itself the seeds of its own destruction. They, too, are victims of this perfectly valid law and their destruction is nowready to burst from within themselves in a furious catastrophe. Even their 'legions' are disintegrating under their own Marxist race-mixing doctrines.
WE are the new 'barbarians', forged to iron-hardness in the fires of their hate and persecution. All over the world, we wait to pounce on the arrogant, strutting 'emperors' of Marxism when they have over-extended themselves just a little bit more. They can shore up their confidence with the belief that National Socialism is 'dead', that they are on the march to final 'world revolution' and Jewish mastery of the world under their King of Zion - whether they call him "Commissar", "Secretary General of the U.N." or "Premier of Israel". I know today that there are millions of us, everywhere. Nothing can stop us!
But in 1951, I felt alone with my Book and my inspiration. I did not- even know any 'conservatives', let alone Nazis. And I dared not mention the subject openly to anyone. Even to my wife I did not betray the truth: That I had become an all-out NAZI, worshipful of the greatest mind of two thousand years - ADOLF HITLER!