The White Patriot Party Proudly Presents...

A White Man Speaks Out

The former leader of the largest active
White Rights Group in the United States,
Speaks out for White America.

...by F.Glenn Miller

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Chapter 10:
$200,000 Cash Donation
And Meeting "The Silent Brotherhood"

"I'm giving you $75,000 now, and I'll bring you another $125,000 in six weeks," said the leader of "The Order," Robert Jay (Bob) Mathews, as he sat calmly in my living room in mid August 1984.

"We've been getting great reports on your organization, and we want to help it get even better," continued the clean-cut, boyish looking 31-year-old Texan.

I stared back in wonder and disbelief, as I sat a few feet away in my favorite easy chair.

"Mr. Miller, I represent a group of people who want to help certain White organizations by providing large financial donations.

I found my voice, and inquired, "Is the money stolen?"

Quickly and without batting an eye, he answered, "Yes, it is, but it was stolen from ZOG's banks"

The word ZOG was widely known and used throughout the White Movement, so I understood what he meant. ZOG is the acronym for "Zionist Occupation Government."

That meeting with Bob Mathews marked my first knowledge of, and contact with, the neo-Nazi group called "The Order," or "Bruders Schweigen," which means Silent Brotherhood, in German.

It also marked my first deliberate step, as leader of the CKKKK, into the realm of felonious illegality.

I had engaged in fights, and on one occasion helped to expose two blackmailers, breaking several laws in the process, and I had committed many misdemeanors during my adult lifetime, but I had never, knowingly broken the law in my capacity as leader of a White racist organization.

Furthermore, there were no criminal charges pending against me.

This was my true situation, as far as the law was concerned when I met Bob Mathews in August 1984.

However, I was convinced by then that Morris Dees would win his civil case against me and the CKKKK, severely reducing our ability to unite, organize, and educate the masses. I also feared entrapments, frame-ups, and assassination at the hands of the federal government.

I was however, fanatical in my determination to continue building the CKKKK. So, all things considered, I decided to accept the money, knowing full well, I'd be committing a felony, and subjecting myself to possible imprisonment. But, since I was convinced the federal government was either going to throw me in prison on trumped up charges or kill me anyway, then accepting the stolen money didn't seem unreasonable, at the time.

And besides, I believed that the biggest limitation to the CKKKK was money. With money, and especially with $200,000 cash, many of my dreams for advancing the CKKKK could become reality.

The Order was a secret underground neo-Nazi group of about 60 people, around 25 of whom formed the inner-circle, and committed the serious crimes.

Within less than one year, the largest trial of any White supremacy group in American history would be held in Seattle, Washington to try Order members for crimes ranging from murder and bank and armored car robberies to conspiracy to commit murder, and bombing porno stores.

Investigating and apprehending those men would require over 700 federal agents, working in 60 cities, and 18 states.

The Order robbed banks and armored cars, netting over 4.5 million dollars, more than half of which was never found or accounted for by the authorities.

At least two books have been written about The Order, and of course, The Order gained massive national and international media coverage that extended over several years, preceding, during, and subsequent to the manhunts and several trials.

Two hundred forty crimes were attributed to The Order by federal officials, committed during an approximate 18-month period.

One robbery alone netted 3.6 million dollars in cash, making it the largest armored car heist in American history. It was carried out by twelve members of The Order, near Ukiah, California in July 1984, just one month prior to Bob Mathews' first visit to my home.

The first trial alone cost the government over 6 million dollars, according to an estimate made by the author of one of the books, who attended the trial.

At least five deaths would be attributed to The Order, including the death of Alan Berg, a radio talk show host, in Denver, Colorado.

Berg, who was Jewish, was assassinated because of his public outspokenness against White racist and anti-Semitic groups and leaders. Two Order members would be convicted for his murder, and Mathews was involved, having done most of the planning, according to testimony, and statements he made to me.

Why did Bob Mathews decide to give Glen Miller $200,000, and how did he know of my existence and whereabouts?

Actually, I had been visited by two Order members four moths prior to my meeting with Mathews, but they neglected to inform me who and what they were.

Andy BarnhiIl and Denver Parmenter, two clean cut young men, came to my house in late April. I had been in the woods 100 yards or so behind my house, feeding my livestock and was on my way back, when I met them halfway.

After shaking hands and the introductions (I don't recall what names they used, but they weren't their real names), they said they'd heard about my group, and had decided to stop by for a chat, being from out of state and traveling through.

I didn't think anything unusual about it. I had received hundreds of out of state visitors, who dropped by for visits and updates on the progress of the CKKKK and to discuss racial, political, and social issues, And, I'd always politely, and enthusiastically shown them my newspaper, my telephone message unit and other tangible evidence of my group's success, spending much time and effort in convincing them that the CKKKK was the best White racist group around, in hopes they'd join or make a financial contribution.

After an hour of talking with Barnhill and Parmenter, and showing them what the CKKKK had to offer, one of them asked me to step outside for a private conversation.

In the backyard, Parmenter, the taller of the two, said "Mr. Miller, we're really impressed with you and your group, and we'd like to give you a little donation," while handing me $1000 in cash.

I was flabbergasted. I'd never received a donation nearly that large before. I think I stammered something like, "Are yaw'll sure you can afford it?"

They didn't look all that prosperous, being in blue jeans and looking like average, working class rednecks.

They both smiled and one said they'd have to leave then, so I walked them to their car parked around in front of my house, detouring on the way to get several back issues of my paper which I gave to them.

Driving away, they smiled and gave the Heil Hitler salute, which I returned with some gusto.

Bob Mathews would not live to see his 32nd birthday. Alone, wounded, and surrounded by over 100 federal agents in a rented frame house in Washington State at 6:00 a.m. on December 8, 1984, after having held the police off with machine gun fire for thirty-six hours, refusing to surrender, a helicopter dropped flares onto the roof, igniting the house and the thousands of rounds of ammunition inside, creating an exploding inferno, which burned him alive.

To provide the reader greater understanding of Bob Mathews and The Order, I will reprint here, a letter written by Mathews and mailed to the Congress of the United States, a few days prior to his death.

Mathews also wrote poems, and I'll begin with one of his shorter, though more revealing, ones:

Give your soul to God and pick up your gun
It's time to deal in lead
We are the legion of the doomed
The army of the already dead

The following letter, written by Mathews, reveals his views of the national, political, racial, and social situations, and, the view shared by other Order members.

By reading this letter, the reader will be able to form a more clear insight into what motivated Mathews and his followers to come together and commit over 240 acts the average American finds reprehensible.

BOB MATHEWS' LETTER TO THE U.S. CONGRESS

All of you together are not solely responsible for what has happened to America, but each of you, without exception, is partly responsible. And the day will come when each of you will be called to account for that responsibility.

The day will come when your complicity in the betrayal of the 55,000 Americans who were sacrificed in Vietnam will be called to account. Whether you were a "hawk" or a "dove" will not carry much weight then. All that will matter is that you played politics while they were dying. All we will ask you is why you failed in your responsibility to them and to America, why you failed to use the full power of your office to expose the treason of your colleagues.

The day will come when your subservience to the Anti American "Israel Lobby" will be called to account. Your votes to strip American arsenals so that Zionists can hold on to stolen land; you acquiescence in a policy which has turned all our Arab friends into enemies, seriously jeopardized our oil lifeline, and bankrupted our national economy — those things are inexcusable. And no plea that you "had to do it," that the Jewish pressure on you was too great to resist, will acquit you.

The day will come — if America survives — when you will pay dearly for having weakened America and strengthened our Communist enemies all over the world. And don't try to tell us that Henry Kissinger is the one to blame for that. You confirmed Kissinger's appointment knowing full well what his policies were. You went along with Kissinger. You could have stopped him any time you wanted to.

The day will come when, above all else, you will pay for betraying your race. Most of you will say that you are against the forced racial busing of school children, that you are against the Black terror which stalks the streets of our cities, that you are against the "reverse discrimination" which takes jobs away from Whites and gives them to Blacks, that you are against the flooding of America with illegal immigrants, because you know all these things are unpopular. But you brought every one of these plagues down on our heads. You passed the "civil rights" laws which gave us busing in the first place, and then you refused repeatedly to specifically outlaw this monstrous crime against our children. It was your scramble for Black votes and your cowardice in the face of the controlled news media which allowed our cities to become crime-infested jungles. You set up the requirements that employers had to meet racial quotas. And you passed the immigration laws which started the flood of non-White immigrants into America — a flood which is now out of control.

We hold you responsible for all these things; for every White child terrorized in a racially-mixed school, for every White person murdered in one of our urban jungles, for every White woman raped by one of the arrogant "equals" roaming our streets, for every White family hungry and desperate because a White worker's job was given to a Black. Each day the list grows longer, but the day will come when the whole score will be settled and you will pay for every one of these debts in full.

Don't try to explain to us that you voted right some of the time, that government is a game of give and take, and that you had to vote for the bad laws in order to get others to vote for good laws. All we care about is that you have collectively ruined America and put our whole race in jeopardy.

We know what America used to be and what it could be today. And we can see what it has become instead — and you presided over that transformation. We placed our trust in you, we gave you the responsibility for our future, and you betrayed us.

You know how to lie smoothly and convincingly, how to talk out of both sides of your mouth at the same time, how to switch sides without blinking an eye, but when the American people finally rise up in righteous wrath and demand justice, none of your trickery and deceit will save you.

Whether you were an instigator of the treason or whether you just went along for the ride will make little difference to us. We will not listen to your explanation that you were really on our side all the time... We will only remember that you could have stopped what has happened to America, and, for whatever reason, you did not.

No, when the day comes, we will not ask whether you swung to the right or whether you swung to the left; we will simply swing you by the neck.

With these things said, let the battle begin.

We, the following, being of sound mind and under no duress, do hereby sign this document of our own free will, stating forthrightly and without fear that we declare ourselves to be in a full and unrelenting state of war with those forces seeking and consciously promoting the destruction of our race.

Therefore, for blood, soil and honor, for the future of our children, and for our King, Jesus Christ, we commit ourselves to battle. Amen.

[Signed by Order Members]

By August 1984, the CKKKK was widely known and respected by White racists all over the country, due mainly to our activities being published in The White Carolinian.

And, since all Order members were associated in one way or another with some of these groups, they learned of me and the CKKKK in that way.

Andy Barnhill and Denver Parmenter had visited me for the purpose of checking me out personally, so that Mathews could decide whether or not I was worthy of receiving Order money, and of closer association with The Order.

Obviously, I passed their inspection with flying colors, because The Order decided that the CKKKK would receive more money than any other group in the country, and they gave money to about a dozen.

Several Order members, who became government witnesses following their arrests, stated that I was supposed to have received $300,000, but only $200,000 was ever delivered to me. The only other group close to that, was Tom Metzger's California based (White American Resistance) group, which received $250,000, according to those same witnesses.

I don't know what happened to the other $100,000. But I was never in a position to complain, so I didn't. I was happy with what I got.

I sat with Bob Mathews in my living room for about three hours that August day, chatting about the CKKKK, Jews, and racial matters.

His girlfriend Zillah Craig, eight months pregnant at the time, who had accompanied him, sat in the kitchen talking woman talk with Marge over cups of coffee, while our children ran in and out of the house, playing and trying to draw attention to themselves.

Zillah would give Bob a daughter and the only child he ever fathered, though he also had a young adopted son of about seven, whom I met and shook hands with at a meeting in Michigan a year or so later.

Bob told me that he and some friends would be in the Raleigh area for several days, and could I recommend a good motel nearby. So, I phoned the Day's Inn motel, nine miles away in Benson, and made reservations.

Shaking hands at the door, Bob informed me he'd give me the $75,000 the following day, and would call me the next morning.

As soon as he left, I began thinking "FBI trap." Mathews sure looked the part, but having a pregnant woman with him didn't, so I was confused.

In any case, the dollar signs in my eyes got the better of me, so after Bob's call the next morning, I high tailed it to Benson in my pick-up truck, in much higher spirits than was my norm, though I was still suspicious.

It so happened that I had received a call that morning from the Mount Olive printing company saying my August edition of The White Carolinian was printed and ready for pick up, so upon arrival at the Day's Inn, I asked Bob to ride with me the 70 miles to Mount Olive. He accepted, without so much as a "why not," and jumped into my truck.

At that time, The White Carolinian averaged about 15,000 to 20,000 copies per month, but it was about to improve dramatically. Bob helped me load the papers into the back of my truck, once I'd backed it up to the loading platform, and he browsed through one on the way back to Benson, making several favorable comments about the content. In fact, he seemed impressed with the CKKKK, in general, especially after I'd explained about our message units, marches, rallies, and other activities, and showing him pictures of crowds of people in camouflage uniforms carrying Confederate Battle flags, cross lighting ceremonies, and other activities, which were in that White Carolinian edition, or in the several other editions I'd brought with me.

It was during that three-hour trip that Bob Mathews told me, in some detail, about The Order, and about some of their illegal activities, including the murder of Alan Berg, the California armored car heist, and at least one bank robbery which Bob said he'd carried out by himself. But, he rounded out his story by saying The Order was mainly interested in providing above-ground White groups with money, and that the Berg murder was just a one-time thing, owing to Berg's particularly obnoxious tirades against White groups and leaders.

This revelation of illegalities, especially the murder, really shook me up, and I seriously considered refusing the money, and to try and forget I'd ever met Bob Mathews. While he was talking, I was panicking, but hoping my nervous jerks weren't noticeable.

"Glenn, we're sitting on three-and-a-half million dollars," said Bob (they had by then dispersed or spent about one million) "and, we've got teams operating all over the country," he continued.

"We're working on a $50 million dollar bank job, and we've got men working for that bank on the inside. I hope we can pull it off. If we do, we'll be bringing you a lot more that $200,000," Bob said, while I struggled to keep the truck on the right side of the center line and out of the ditch, but listening and trying to concentrate on the magnitude of what he was saying so casually, at the same time.

"Bob," I said, "about that money you're going to give me, there are no strings attached to it, are there?"

Quickly, Bob answered, "Oh no, we just want you to continue on with what you've been doing."

I was relieved to hear that, but I continued, "As you can see, I'm in the above-ground movement, so I'm very vulnerable. The feds and the FBI watch me like hawks all the time."

Bob responded, "Don't worry, Glenn. We don't want you to do anything illegal. Your job is to work for the Movement aboveground, so you have to stay clean. You know, in a way your work is more dangerous than ours because the Jews and the Niggers and the feds know where to find you, but we're secret. Nobody even knows what we're doing or where we are."

He then went on to explain how he and his men all had obtained new identities, new birth certificates, new drivers' licenses, and about technical equipment they used to avoid arrest, such as police scanner radios, with which they monitored law enforcement agencies, and voice stress analyzer machines which they used to screen members of The Order.

By the time we reached the Benson motel, I had decided that I would accept the money, and gladly. It was like a dream come true. Money, and lots of it, and there were no strings attached. After all the years of scraping and begging for small donations, the CKKKK finally would have some real capital to work with. I was ecstatic and glowing with optimism and gratitude, as I envisioned mountains of White Carolinian newspapers, and hundreds of telephone message units, and other tools that would bring the White masses into the CKKKK.

Getting out of the truck in front of the motel restaurant, Bob stuck his head back through the window and said, "I'll call you later on today. By the way, is there an airport anywhere near here?"

The only airport I could think of was the one in Angier, so I said, "Yeah, there's one near Angier, about seven miles the other side of my house."

"OK, buddy," Bob replied, "I'll call you in a few hours," and with that he turned his back and walked oft.

I drove away wondering why he hadn't yet given me the $75,000, but confident that he would.

Back at my house, I unloaded the 20,000 White Carolinians and stacked them neatly in a corner of my living room as I did each month, preparatory to mailing some to members and supporters and rolling the rest in rubber bands for distribution to the public.

Marge was busy sticking address labels onto envelopes, and sorting them by zip codes which was a requirement of the local post office. Soon, we were both stuffing the latest edition of The White Carolinian into the envelopes, licking them shut, and making neat stacks, after which we could place rubber bands around each stack, and place them into postal shipping bags. I would then drive them to the post office in Benson, fill out a form, and turn them over to postal employees for mailing.

At this time in August 1984, our entire mailing list amounted to no more than 400 or 500 addresses. By July 1986, we'd have over 5,000 members and supporters, and the mailing list was well over 2,000. In many cases, more than one member, and in some cases four or five, resided at one address, so I would just mail one copy per address, to cut down on work and expense. By 1986, the CKKKK's monthly mailing filled ten or twelve large postal bags, and the work of sticking, licking, folding, sorting, and stuffing, etc. would require 30 to 40 man hours, or in our case, woman hours, because Marge did most of it by herself. Sometimes, the Rickey Nunnery family or others would drop by to help, but that was infrequent.

The speed and efficiency with which Marge accomplished this task never ceased to amaze me, especially the sorting by zip code part. Marge would have the living room and kitchen floor completely covered with stacks of 9" x 13" envelopes, each stack bearing the same first three digits in the zip code, and she knew exactly where each was located, as she stood in the middle pitching envelopes here and there, never missing the right stack. And, she did this while smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and watching four little children at the same time.

Bob telephoned on schedule, "Buddy, something's come up. Some of my friends are flying in tomorrow, could you go with me to the Angier airport and pick them up?"

"Sure, be glad to. About what time?" I asked.

Bob answered, "Ten in the morning. I'll come by your house about 9:30. By the way, they want to see the expression on your face when we give you a little donation. Do you mind?"

I paused a bit, but said, "That'll be all right, I guess."

With the benefit of hindsight and better sense, I wished later that I had declined that request, because it meant that more than one person would witness my receiving stolen money. But not wanting to jeopardize the donation or offend him, I agreed to the request.

Bob arrived on time the following morning, and I led the way in my truck to the Angier airport. Bob and his companion, Zillah followed behind in a new four-door sedan, which he drove.

The Angier airport is very small and has a dirt runway, located about two miles north of Angier, just off highway 55.

We were early, or the plane was late, so we spent the time sitting in Bob's car discussing various topics, including Bob's "suggestions" concerning how best to spend the $200,000 he planned to give me.

The airport looked deserted except for two or three small one-engine planes parked nearby, and one elderly man who peeped out at us occasionally from inside a small storage building some 50 to 60 feet away from where we sat parked beside the runway.

Bob spoke softly, but business like, "Glenn, I have several requests. I won't tell you what to do with the money, but I want to offer a few suggestions and we'll see if you agree with them. First, I'd like for you to put six men on your payroll, including yourself, and pay them $400 per week. I want you to buy two good vehicles and spend about $7,000 or $8,000 for each, and one of my men wants you to send one of your members to school to learn how to play bagpipes. We've heard about your marches and rallies, and he's a nut about Scottish bagpipe marching music."

I answered, "Sounds good to me, Bob. I will do all that, but I think $400 a week is too much, I can get them a lot cheaper than that, and I can save money on the vehicles, too. About sending somebody to school to learn how to play bagpipes, I'll have to look around to find a school, but I won't have any problem finding somebody to go. Maybe, I'll send two or three."

Bob said, "Just make sure you get vehicles in good condition. Don't be too cheap. I like the four-door sedans, myself. They're perfect for travel."

Then he added, "I'll be back in six weeks to bring you the other $125,000, and if you don't mind, I'd like for you to make a list of what you've spent money on, and what you plan to do with the rest. It doesn't have to be too elaborate. We'd just like to know roughly what your plans are."

"OK Bob, no problem." I answered.

We spent an hour talking about the White Movement and various leaders around the country, and I stated my intention to print large numbers of The White Carolinian, and have them distributed by full time employees, and to greatly increase the number of our telephone message units.

Bob listened patiently to my ramblings about how I would bring more and more people into the Movement and turn them into dedicated activists.

I sensed that he wasn't much interested in organizing the White masses, though he didn't say that. He had somewhat of a far away look in his eyes, as if he envisioned something else entirely. But, he pacified me with an occasional, “Good, Glenn, that sounds good."

A plane circled overhead, then swooped down in a perfect landing, and four young healthy buck-looking White men in jeans got out and came toward us, all grinning when they recognized Bob and Zillah.

Meeting them halfway between the car and plane, some 150 feet, Bob smiling, embraced each in turn in a strong manly fashion, and there were "Hail Victory" greetings all around.

Turning to me, Bob introduced us, and I shook hands with each saying that it was a great pleasure to meet them.

One said, "Mr. Miller, it's good to finally meet you. We've been hearing a lot of great things about you."

Getting back to our vehicles, Bob asked me to lead the way to their motel, and that since he had a lot to discuss with his friends, they would all ride with him.

Arriving at the motel, some 30 minutes later, everybody except Bob and I went into the rented room, one closing the door behind them.

Standing outside together, Bob said to me, "come back tonight at 9:00 and we'll give you the money then."

"OK, Bob, that'll be fine. It's better that I not be seen too much with yaw'll, since my face is known just about everywhere I go, especially here in Benson, and I might draw the cops to you."

I left then, but returned promptly at 9:00 p.m.

After knocking and being allowed into the motel room, I found them all sitting around on beds or chairs or standing beside the dresser on which sat a machine, which I was told was one of their voice stress analyzers, a modern version of a lie-detector machine.

They would give me this machine the following day, explaining that it was the best on the market, and sold retail for $8,000. It appeared brand new.

They greeted me with smiles and "hail victories," which I returned and after a few minutes of small talk, Bob handed me the small paper sack containing the $75,000 in large bills. The stack of money was no more than eight or ten inches high.

And so, they all got to see my facial expression, and I didn't disappoint them. Grinning and looking grateful and sheepish, I told them that words could not describe my appreciation, and that I hadn't known that America still had White men willing to put their lives and freedoms on the line for our Race, as they were doing.

One Order member came to my rescue, and said, "Don't worry about it Mr. Miller, what you are doing is more dangerous than what we're doing, because you're out in the open." I appreciated his words.

Thanking them again, I turned to the door, indicating that I was leaving, and Bob followed me outside to my truck.

Seeing that I was somewhat in a state of awe, and emotionally moved by the experience of being in the presence of all those revolutionists, Bob patted me on the back as I sat behind the steering wheel, and said, "Take it easy buddy, everything's going to be all right. Don't worry about a thing. I'll call you tomorrow."

I said "Hail victory," raising my hand in that salute, smiled my thanks and drove away into the night toward home.

With the gesture of taking the little brown bag, I had doomed myself to prison. Within a few months the arrests of Order members would begin, and several including Zillah Craig and Denver Parmenter would become government witnesses and tell federal agents about my having received the stolen money. Six were actual eyewitnesses to the transaction, thanks to their desire to "see the expression on my face."

Not only was I then guilty of receiving stolen money, I was also guilty of harboring murderers, bank robbers, and terrorists, and thereby subject to at least a 10-year prison sentence, if not more. And that wasn't the end of my involvement, by any means. Five months later I would help hide Order member, David Lane, from the authorities, and solicit another man to assist me, committing other felonies in the process, bringing my total exposure to at least a 20-year prison sentence. And, there would be plenty of Order members willing to testify against me. Of the 25 or so inner-circle members, over half would become government witnesses, following their arrests. And, even those not actually witnessing my crimes were informed of them by those who had, and could therefore be "corroboration" witnesses against me in court.

I was to learn later that The Order had plans for me, other than just being a recipient for their stolen money. They wanted me to provide them with recruits from within the CKKKK, which was their intention from the beginning. The money was just the enticement to get me involved, and they intended to use it to convince me to comply with their "requests" in the future.

All this was revealed by a Bob Mathews' associate by the name of Thomas Martinez, who not only became a cooperating witness, but wrote a book about The Order, as well.

He stated Bob Mathews had informed him that the money given to White racist groups such as Glenn Miller's CKKKK would bring them into The Order as allies in his armed revolution. And, at least one Order member told the authorities "they" had intended to go to North Carolina and get men from Glenn Miller's group, but were arrested before they could.

I refused to cooperate with the authorities for three years after I'd met and learned about The Order, and could easily have struck a deal during any of that time, and received complete immunity from prosecution authorities. Not only would I never have spent one day in prison, I could have kept the $200,000 and received financial "assistance" from the government as an added reward. Thomas Martinez was given $26,000 in "assistance," just after he'd agreed to become a witness, according to his own admission in his book.

Following the arrest of Order members, I was subpoenaed to appear before two separate federal grand juries in 1985, one in Seattle, Washington and the other in Fort Smith, Arkansas. I took the Fifth Amendment both times, refusing to provide information against anyone.

Also, in 1985, FBI agent Jack Knox and U.S. Attorney Samuel Currin interrogated me in Raleigh, trying to gain information, but I refused to give them any. Knox informed me that according to information he had already received, I was facing 20 years in prison, even then.

The day after giving me $75,000, Bob Mathews dropped by my house, as he'd promised. And, he was alone.

Standing in my living room, he said, "Glenn, you need a code name I can use in case I need to call you about anything. Do you have a nickname or can you think of one I could use?"

I though a few seconds, then said, "Yeah, Rounder, you can call me Rounder."

The name Rounder is the nickname of one of my favorite uncles, and in his case, it implied someone who gets around a lot. My cousin Bill Allen and a best friend schoolmate Freddy Smith and I got into the habit of calling each other by that name while we were growing up because we all thought highly of that uncle.

All Order members had code names. "Carlos" was the code name chosen by Bob Mathews, and others went by names such as Lone Wolf, Grey Fox, Mr. Closet, and The Watchman, etc.

The word Rounder alongside the name Glenn Miller written down on paper by Order members would show up at their trial in the form of evidence. Mathews would give me yet another code name, which was "Swamp Fox," and that, too, was documented by Order members and subsequently became evidence for government prosecutors.

Mathews had gotten the code name "Carlos," from the internationally famous Palestinian terrorist, whom he admired.

Bob left my house after only a few minutes visit, saying that he had many places to go and things to do, but adding, as he got into his car to leave, "I'll see you in six weeks, with the rest of the money."

With that, he was gone and I could sit down in calm concentration and plot what to do with the money, to further the CKKKK.

Marge was totally ignorant about the money then. I had told her nothing, and I succeeded in keeping the money a secret until after several weeks of spending much more than the CKKKK was taking in. She got suspicious, and began accusing me of being up to something illegal. After my alibis failed to convince her, she became increasingly more suspicious, and I finally got tired of her constant accusations and nagging, so I told her the money was a big donation from a group of businessmen who demanded to remain anonymous, but that the money was absolutely legal.

Somehow, I convinced her that this story was the true one, so she was content for a while. She would not learn the truth until she read it in the newspaper, following the arrest of Order member Bruce Pierce and after he had informed federal interrogators that I had received money from The Order. Pierce recanted later and did not become a government witness.

Not being a gullible woman, Marge put my new found wealth together with the newspaper report, and figured out the truth by herself.

And, when she did, she screamed insulting phrases at me over a three-day period, which included, but were not limited to the following: "Are you crazy?... You mean you took money you knew was stolen?... Oh, my God, I married an idiot... What do you mean, bringing stolen money into my home... How dare you jeopardize me and the children... My mother and sister said you were crazy... Get that money out of my house now... No, you get out of my house, and take that damn money with you... Oh, Lord, what can I do? I married a fool... He's going to put us all in prison... I'm going home to my mother and I'm taking the children, and I never want to see you again... No, this is my home, you get out... Oh Lord have mercy on us all... He's a fool and an idiot... How could I have married such a man?..."

That was only a few of her exclamations. I omitted the more graphic ones. And I didn't mention the things she threw around the house, while she was saying them.

Marge, being from Italian ancestry and raised in a strict Catholic family, was not inclined to greet certain family disasters with gentle words of kindness, nor the family member who caused it.

After several days of alternating periods of screaming and the silent treatment, Marge finally relented, and realizing there wasn't anything she could do to change things, she became my sweet wife again, determined to keep the family together no matter what.

Anyhow, there I was sitting on $75,000 and expecting another $125,000 in six weeks. How best could I further the CKKKK?

The first thing I did was to sit down at my kitchen table and do the layout for a special introductory edition of The White Carolinian. Taking the very best photographs of our marches and rallies, and selecting good propaganda articles written by myself and other writers, plus many other things such as cartoons, a big application for membership form, and a strongly worded appeal to the masses to join or support the CKKKK, etc. I put it all together, and drove it over to the Benson Printing Company and ordered a whopping 100,000 copies. The cost was over $7,000.00

It required a large flatbed truck to move this mountain of newspapers, and I gloried in taking snapshots of it, and in distributing them by the thousands to our den leaders and to individual members and supporters for passing out to the public.

Steve Miller, Chaplain and number two man in the CKKKK, who lived near Fayetteville wanted to renovate a large garage into a meeting place, improve upon our loud speaker system, and engage in several other projects to further the CKKKK, so I gave him $10,000 and told him to get to work on them. I gave him an additional $800, and informed him that from then on he'd receive that amount in monthly salary, in exchange for his full time services, plus additional money for special projects.

Steve would eventually receive about $30,000, all tolled, in salary, expenses, and for special projects.

It so happened that two Oklahoma men who had read about the CKKKK in an Oklahoma newspaper, had recently relocated for the purpose of joining us. They met Steve, and moved in with him, along with their wives, and one small child each.

Steve thought highly of these two men and recommended that I put them on the payroll also, because they were hard workers and their wives were willing to pitch in, free of charge. And, all four were highly dedicated and knowledgeable about the Movement, Steve explained.

These two men were Douglas Sheets and Jack Jackson, who, on April 30, 1987, were arrested with me in Missouri, following my Declaration of War and a nationwide federal manhunt.

I agreed to Steve's recommendation and while speaking with them, I explained that the money was from wealthy contributors who wished to remain anonymous, and furthermore, I didn't want other members to know anyone was on the payroll. That was to be kept a secret between us.

I had met and spoken with both Doug and Jack previous to that, but only briefly, and I too had been impressed with them.

Both were bull-like men, weighing over 200 pounds. Though Doug was 38, he looked 25 and Jack was only 23, but the dominant personality of the two. Both men stood 6' 1".

In the coming months, I came to know them well and their wives became friends with Marge as we all got together frequently at my house or Steve's and at marches and rallies.

I concluded they were intelligent, talented, and dedicated to our cause, and I grew to admire Jack and Doug, more and more. They were two tough, dedicated White men, and I wanted millions more like them.

Steve immediately put them to work rolling 20,000 White Carolinian newspapers, and distributing them around a 100-mile or so radius of Fayetteville. Steve lived in a fairly large farmhouse in the country, and had a huge yard and two out-buildings, so they had plenty of room in which to work and hold meetings. Steve's Den would eventually have around 25 to 30 members, and they helped to start other Dens in the Fayetteville and adjoining Robeson and Harnett County areas.

Jack and Doug were soon arrested for littering, while throwing out papers in Florence, South Carolina. The local police obviously had received complaints and wanted to discourage the CKKKK from operating in their city.

When I learned of this, I wrote the Florence mayor a letter on Klan stationery, saying that passing out literature was an expression of freedom of speech and therefore, protected by the First Amendment. And I quoted the U.S. Supreme Court ruling on the subject. Furthermore, I wrote, that if he didn't drop the litter charges against my men, and pay them $1000 in damages, I was going to stage a Klan march through the center of his city, and sue the city for one million dollars.

A few days later, I got a call from the Chief of Police, who apologized for the arrests, asked me to have Jack and Doug come to Florence and pick up their $1000 check, and that anytime in the future we wanted to pass out literature in Florence, to "come on down anytime," and that they'd be glad to have us.

To rub it in and set an example, I reported the whole affair to the Florence paper, and it was printed in their next edition.

A few weeks after that, Jack and Doug read in their local newspaper that there had been a race riot between Blacks and Whites in a small town in Robeson County, so they dressed up in their camouflage uniforms, rigged up two large Confederate flags to Doug's Bronco Jeep, and loaded it with shotguns and assault rifles, and drove to that town.

Jack and Doug informed me later that the White townspeople, recognizing what they were, had cheered them from the sidewalks, and a long line of admirers had followed them to a convenience store, where they stood around cheering. Seeing the opportunity to sign up new members, they passed out White Carolinians, and several joined the CKKKK on the spot. They were so inspired, they not only joined, but got together later with Jack and Doug and began their own CKKKK Den.

Oddly, neither Jack nor Doug ever actually joined the CKKKK. They were members of another national group called "Posse Comitatus," which means power of the county. The gist of Posse Comitatus was that the U.S. Constitution provided for only one legal law enforcement agency, and that was the county Sheriff's department. All others were unconstitutional, and therefore illegal and void.

Since county sheriffs' had the authority to deputize, the Posse Comitatus reasoned that Black crime and all other anti-White acts could be corrected by bands of armed White men, deputized by county sheriff's. And, that no power was constitutionally empowered to stop them.

There was, of course, much more to the Posse Comitatus and they published stacks of legal documents to back up their claims, but their "power-of-the-county" approach formed the basis for the group.

Unfortunately, Posse Comitatus was not successful in attracting many members, so Jack and Doug decided to work with the CKKKK, though declining to actually join it.

But, that was fine with me, as long as they did their work.

Actually, the CKKKK had lots of people who wore camouflage uniforms and marched and rallied with us, but for various reasons, would not officially become members.

Equally unusual was my policy that allowed people to join through the mail. All one had to do was to fill out an application form provided in our newspaper, and mail it in along with the $20 dues, and I'd send them a full membership card. Since the CKKKK was a legal, above-ground organization, I thought, why not?

We no doubt, had Blacks, Jews, and Communists on our mailing list due to this policy, but I didn't worry about that, either. The Blacks would be immediately recognized and thrown out of any meeting, and they all had to pay money to the CKKKK for the privilege of being on the list.

As for the possibility of Jewish or Communist infiltrators, or government infiltrators for that matter, there was little I could do about it but warn members, which I did constantly. But since we were legal, the only harm they could do was lead others into committing illegal acts, or commit acts of sabotage themselves, in which case, they'd be breaking the law, not us.

I warned members about that hundreds of times. It was a regular topic of my speeches at meetings through those years.

I bought a large 3-seater diesel-powered three-year-old station wagon for $5,200, and paid cash for it.

I never put a cent of the $200,000 in the bank, for obvious reasons.

I disliked the station wagon, and after a couple months, I gave it to Steve, and purchased a brand-new 4-cylinder Chevrolet, which cost $7,400.

I've always been a fanatic on saving gas money, and the station wagon was having mechanical problems, which I felt Steve, Jack, and Doug were better capable of handling.

I phoned a dozen or so Den leaders, asking them to pick up bundles of White Carolinians for distribution within their areas, and for the most part, I provided the papers free of charge, although I required those I felt could afford them, to pay the usual $40 per thousand, which was about the cost of printing.

I mailed bundles to those unable to make the trip, and soon the bulk of the 100,000 was in the hands of the public, so I got to work on the next edition, and had it printed in 50,000 copies.

Meanwhile, Steve and I continued traveling around the state meeting with members and starting new Dens. By July 1986, we had almost 100 Dens.

I also had several more telephone message units installed around the state, having purchased a half dozen at the local Radio Shack. I put the word out to Den leaders that the CKKKK would not only pay for the machine, but also installation charges, deposits, and the monthly phone bills as well, if members would allow them to be installed in their homes.

This led to a rapid increase in the number of message units. However, most members insisted on footing their own expenses, and did so for several years.

We had a total of 28 message machines operational by July 1986.

Many times, I drove hundreds of miles to install them myself, and throw out hundreds of White Carolinian s in the area to advertise the phone numbers to call. This never failed to get them going full blast, and I never ceased to be amazed at their popularity, although I knew that most people called them out of curiosity or for entertainment.

However, I never admitted it to members or to news reporters, choosing instead to proclaim loudly, that I was educating the masses, and if they didn't believe me, they should try calling one of the numbers and they'd see for themselves that the machines were almost always busy, delivering a different 2-minute message every week to tens-of-thousands of people.

About 200 uniformed CKKKK members attended the national Klan rally in Stone Mountain, Georgia, held annually over Labor Day weekend, for the previous 56 years. White racist groups from all over the country converge for this annual gathering, to hear speeches, renew old acquaintances, make new ones, exchange literature, and participate in a cross lighting ceremony featuring three huge crosses.

Steve and I were asked to present formal speeches, along with 20 or so leaders representing other groups, as was the case in '82, '83, '84, and '85, which were the years we attended.

At that particular rally in 1984, I was called aside and asked to meet with Texas Klan leader Louis Beam in a nearby motel, for the purpose of videotaping an interview. Beam was, at that time, taping 30-minute interviews with various leaders, for broadcasting throughout the country via public cable TV.

Beam, along with 13 others, would stand trial on federal charges of Sedition, in Fort Smith, Arkansas in 1988, but they were all acquitted.

I met Beam at the motel as requested and did the interview. And, a few months later, I did a similar taping for another group of White activists associated with The Order. The later taping was conducted in a Holiday Inn motel room near Cohoctah, Michigan, in conjunction with an annual meeting sponsored by Bob Miles, leader of a group called The Mountain Church.

Bob Miles was a widely known and respected leader, who had previously served 6 years in a federal prison for bombing empty school buses in protest of forced busing of school children in Pontiac, Michigan.

Steve and I and other CKKKK members attended two rallies on Miles' farm in 1984 and 1985, and I found him to be a highly intelligent, articulate, and effective speaker and leader, though I differed with his religious views.

Miles, as well as Pastor Richard Butler leader of the nationally known and highly publicized "Aryan Nations," whom I also met and spoke with on several occasions, were acquitted in 1988, along with Louis Beam on Sedition charges.

The Stone Mountain, Georgia rally of 1984 was more successful than either the 1983 or 1982 ones, and 1985 was even bigger, indicating that the National White Movement was growing in number.

That annual rally was an accurate gauge, in my opinion.

By 1984, the strength of the CKKKK prompted Georgia rally coordinators to add a public march through downtown Stone Mountain, to the rally held on private property. And, since my military experience was known, I was chosen from among the 25 or more national leaders, to form the marchers into formation, and lead the public parade.

I did this in 1984 and 1985, and both marches included 300 or 400 people, dressed in assorted uniforms. Some wore Klan robes, some camouflage fatigues. I had brought 150 or 200 of our Confederate flags mounted on flag poles, and these were carried by marchers. CKKKK members being the more experienced and best dressed in their camouflage fatigues, combat boots, and green berets, were placed in front, and in both 1984 and 1985, the CKKKK made up over half the number of marchers.

With the use of my bullhorn, the sound of loud martial music, added to the flags and uniforms, I was able to orchestrate very respectable looking parades, which were captured on video by our two CKKKK camera men, Tony Wydra and Jesse Radford. Wydra was killed in 1989, under mysterious circumstances.

Just after the parade, Charlie Reck was arrested on a firearms violation, and Steve and I had to bail him out from the county jail, costing the CKKKK $500. Reck was a tough, young former Marine who was our Security leader, at that time.

Sanford, N.C. Den leader Rickey Nunnery rented a Greyhound-type bus and a driver in 1984 and transported CKKKK members to Stone Mountain. Other members traveled in convoys or in individual vehicles. Each year, I advertised the Stone Mountain rally in The White Carolinian, and placed large emphasis on the importance of a big CKKKK turn out to increase our prestige and to attract new members and supporters, even though the trip from North Carolina was long and costly.

Returned home to Angier, I didn't have long to wait for the second and final donation from The Order.

One day late in September, I answered the phone to hear, "Hey Buddy, this is Carlos, how you doing?"

Not even trying to hide my joy, I said, "Fine as wine, and twice as strong. How the hell are you doing?"

Bob replied, "Ok. I'm at the location where we met the last time. I was wondering if you could drop by for a few minutes to see me. I'm in the same room as before."

I responded, "Sure, I'll be there in 15 minutes," and hung up the phone.

Bob had only one other person with him this trip. It was Andy Barnhill, one of the two men who'd given me $1000 the previous April.

I found Bob to be his usual charismatic, confident self, which is really remarkable under the circumstances. He knew by then the FBI was hot on his trail, but he didn't speak of it to me. To hear him talk, one would think he was immune from any interference, and that he would continue for years to rob banks and armored cars, and build his secret underground Army of White resistance soldiers.

He exuded confidence and efficiency. And he impressed me as being brilliant, fanatically healthy, and incredibly perceptive. I would put him in the class with Hitler, Rommel, Stonewall Jackson, and Nathan Forest. And I am not exaggerating, he was an awesome man.

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight and having studied the chronology of The Order's activities in detail, I am convinced that at that stage, Bob Mathews knew his days were numbered and that he would soon die for his Cause. And, not only did he believe it, he looked forward to the confrontation.

I often since then fantasized a scenario wherein he and I were leaders in a great above-ground organization, with hundreds of thousands of members, and with millions of dollars with which to build the Cause of racial unity, strength and survival.

We would have huge modern headquarters buildings scattered throughout the South, with Confederate flags mounted on 100-foot flagpoles in front. We'd stage mass marches and rallies, participated in by tens of thousands of young, healthy and enthusiastic people screaming their racial pride and solidarity, totally consumed with the determination to fight on and to overcome any obstacles that stood in our way.

We would have the best young minds leading the growing formations of awakened White people in every community, town and city throughout the South, and their fanaticism would create inspiration and social upheavals that the White masses would overcome their fears and brainwashing and would love and support them. And, we would all march triumphantly to the Capitol of every state in the Confederacy, and demand sovereignty and independence from the federal government of the United States, with the absolute blessing and support of The Southern White masses.

Bob greeted me at the door of his motel room in Benson with a big warm smile and a firm handshake.

"How yaw’ll doing?" I said as I shook hands with Bob and Andy Barnhill.

"Things couldn't be better, Glenn," said Bob, sitting down on the edge of one of the two beds.

Barnhill sat down in a chair near the window.

I walked over and sat down on the other bed, near the phone and night stand.

"How's everything going with you, Glenn? What you been doing for the Cause?" Bob asked.

I handed him the latest edition of The White Carolinian, and showed him the picture of the 100,000 newspapers stacked on the flatbed truck, which I knew would impress him, and I went on to explain my actions since his last visit six weeks prior.

I said, "Bob, things are really going great with our Klan. I bought that station wagon you see out front. That stack of newspapers you see, is 100,000 copies. I paid a little over $7,000 for that. I bought a video camera to record our marches and rallies, and two VCRs, and I gave Steve Miller, my number two man, $10,000 for a few projects he's working on. I've got four men on the payroll now, including myself, and I'm paying them $800 a month. Let's see now... oh yeah, I'm working on buying some property and I plan to build a headquarters building on it. I've found a bagpipe training school in Raleigh, but haven't got anybody enrolled in it yet, but I will soon. I've decided to give the station wagon to Steve, and I'll be buying another one for myself. I want to get something a little better on gas. I ordered 300 more large Confederate flags and I've already got the flag poles for them. I've got members all over passing out our newspapers, and new members are coming in faster than ever before. I bought six more message units, and I got three of them installed already and they're going full blast."

Bob interrupted, "Sounds good, Glenn, you've been pretty busy since I last saw you. We heard you were at the Stone Mountain rally and that you guys put on a great march down there. I've been traveling quite a bit, and I've got men scattered all over, and it's getting to be a job keeping up with them, but I promised you I'd see you in six weeks and here I am."

I replied, "I don't envy your job, Bob. Yaw'll have really blown my mind. I still can't believe it. I didn't know our Race had men like yaw'II left. It's just incredible to me. By the way, I want you to call my latest recorded message. We've got 17 units going now. Here, I'll dial one for you." And, I dialed the number to discover it was busy, so I tried again and finally got through on the third or fourth dial, and handed the phone to Bob.

He listened to the two-minute message, and I could tell he was pleased because he insisted on Barnhill hearing it. So, I redialed and handed the phone to Barnhill.

"Great message, Glenn. They should really be effective. Get all those going you can." Bob said.

"Glenn, here's a document I want you to read and memorize, then burn it after you have. It'll tell you some of the things I want you to do and a little about what we're doing and how we operate. And, one other thing, I want you to write down a telephone number. It's our message center. If you need to get a message to me, just call this number and give your code name Swamp Fox. This is the new code name I want you to use," explained Bob, as I listened closely, and wrote down the number on a piece of paper.

After I had taken the document, Bob said, "Glenn, we hate to rush off, but we're in a bit of a hurry, you understand. I'll be in contact with you when I think it's necessary."

"Ok, Bob," I said, "One final thing, and I hate to bring it up, but, I need to know, so I'll know whether to spend the $200,000 fast or to conserve it. Can we expect any more money?"

Bob answered, "We'll probably get more money to you, but it may be a while. But in any case, don't depend on it. Nobody knows what the future holds, but we'll do the best we can."

From his tone and words, I concluded there probably wouldn't be any more and I dropped the subject.

Bob then got up and picked up a medium sized cardboard box sitting on a table in one corner of the room, and handed it to me saying, "Glenn, here's the rest of the money. Use it as a tool to further our Cause. Never look at it as money, just as a tool."

Taking the cardboard box, I said, "I understand. God bless you and all your men. I just don't know how to thank you and if I try, I'll probably start stuttering, so I won't try. Yaw'll be careful, and God be with you."

I shook hands with him at the door, holding the box under my left arm, and Barnhill leaned over and shook my hand, and said, "Good luck, Mr. Miller."

I walked out then, sat the box in the front seat of the station wagon, got in and drove away.

That was the last time I ever saw Bob Mathews. In less that 2 1/2 months, he would die a horrible death, burned alive in a burning house, intentionally set by agents of the FBI. His last act was to squeeze the trigger of his machine gun in defiance, as the smoke and flames engulfed him.

Andy Barnhill would be arrested soon afterwards in Montana, and would be one of only 12 Order members who refused to cooperate with federal prosecutors. He was sentenced to 40 years in a federal penitentiary.

Other Order members turning government witnesses would either be given much lighter sentences, placed on probation with no active prison sentence, or receive no punishment at all.

The 12 loyalists received sentences ranging from 40 years to life..

As I said, there have been at least two books written about The Order. The one I found most interesting and complete was Talked to Death, written by Stephen Singular.

That book describes, step by step, the really incredible story of those brave men who called themselves, The Silent Brotherhood.

On the way home, I pulled oft the highway and parked for a few moments to inspect the contents of the cardboard box. Opening the flaps, I saw that the box, which was about two feet long, ten inches wide, and ten inches high, was completely full of neatly stacked bills of all denominations. Except for the one dollar bills, thick rubber bands secured each bundle of about three inches high, and held small slips of paper on which was written the amount of money in the bundle. The eight or ten bundles of ones held no slips of paper, but were secured with rubber bands. Other bundles held 5's, 10's, 20's, 50's or 100's.

It was an awesome sight, and the experience of seeing and fondling those thick bundles of money is one I'll never forget. I felt the desire to gather up the bundles in my arms, hug them to my chest, and hum and swoon.

The next day, I purchased two plastic pipes, normally used by plumbers for septic tank lines, about three feet long and five inches in diameter. The pipes were rounded on one end and had screw-on caps at the other. I would bury the money, minus the one-dollar bills, in those pipes.

Using a post hole digger, I placed the pipes containing the money into the ground, with the pipe caps pointed upward. That way, when I needed cash, I didn't have to dig up the whole pipe. I'd just dig down a few inches, and unscrew the cap.

The document given to me by Bob Mathews contained several things: Code names; a suggestion that my group expand to cover nine listed Southern states; a request that I maintain a record of how money was spent; and a statement indicating how future stolen money would be divided. As I recall, about 60% would be divided among those doing the robbing, and 40% divided among selected above-ground groups, which judging from the number of code names amounted to ten or twelve.

I read the document five or six times, then burned it.

I decided to comply with the document. It did not ask me to break any law, and it placed no demands on me, only recommendations, so I figured, why not?

In October 1984, I changed the name of our group to The Confederate Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, and I organized literature distribution drives in South Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia. Soon afterwards, phone calls and membership applications from those states began to trickle in, and within a few months, we had at least one Den established in each. Still later, we established Dens in Florida and Louisiana. We also installed telephone message machines in Virginia, Tennessee, South Carolina, and Georgia. And they soon became as popular as the others.

Those machines, for the most part, were installed in large cities like Atlanta, Columbia, Richmond, Raleigh, Charlotte, Tallahassee, and in smaller, though populous, cities such as Jacksonville, Kinston, Asheville, Fayetteville, Statesville, Sanford, and Rocky Mount, North Carolina. This meant that about seven or eight million people could call at least one message without having to call long distance.

I changed the name of our newspaper from The White Carolinian, which like the name Carolina Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, was obsolete, to The Confederate Leader.

Newspaper distribution and increasing the number of message machines was then, my most important objective because they delivered my views directly to the White masses, and they brought in the bulk of new members, supporters, newspaper subscribers, and financial donations.

Everything else was of secondary importance.

Consequently, I cajoled, pleaded with, praised, bribed, paid, and even insulted members into distributing more and more of our newspapers to the White public. I was fanatical about this, and members learned that if they wanted to stay on my good side or get an honorable mention in my paper, they'd best become fanatics too, or give me the impression they were.

To set the example, I distributed thousands myself. Hundreds of times, I'd go out with large feed sacks full of rolled up papers and throw them on lawns, in driveways, or near mail boxes. Everywhere I went, I took papers with me.

Marge and I and our three boys spent days rolling papers in our living room. And, I placed pictures of us and other members amid piles of papers, in our newspaper, as an incentive and inspiration.

Driving alone, I could easily throw out 5,000 papers in and 8-hour period and did so many times, with my shotgun and.44 magnum pistol within reach.

I often pondered the financial and mathematical results. How many new members, supporters, subscribers, and dollars resulted in, for example, the distribution of 1,000 papers? I reasoned that if the dollars received equaled the dollars spent, then the possibilities were limitless. And, if enough dollars received would enable me to hire full time distributors plus pay the other expenses involved, then we could get millions of papers to the public monthly, free of charge or even show a profit.

So, I started keeping track as best I could, and concluded that one member, supporter, or subscriber resulted from the distribution of 1,000 papers. We weren't even near to breaking even, and we never did. I was greatly disappointed at this realization, but not discouraged, because I always felt it would eventually improve and gain momentum along with our membership number. I felt that we needed only to get out more papers.

And, I discovered that a meeting or rally brought about $1 per attendee in donations. A rally of 300 people would result in about $300 in donations. It was really uncanny how close this trend seemed to be.

Thanks to The Order, however, in August 1984, my financial discouragements decreased dramatically.

To give the reader some idea of where the $200,000 went, I'll list some of the expenditures here:

Steve Miller for salary, expenses & special projects: $30,000
Computer: $2,300
Video camera and VCR's: $3,000
Newspaper printing: $40,000
Salaries of three people, not including Steve's: $30,000
10 acres of land I intended to use for a training camp: $12,000
Two vehicles: $12,600
Money spent underground: $10,000
Used school bus, insurance, two motors, maintenance, etc.: $3,500
Travel expenses for myself and others: $5,000
Confederate flags for parades and uniforms given to members: $2,000
Literature and books purchased from other groups: $3,000
Donations given to other groups and individuals, including Zillah Craig and Richard Butler: $3,000
Blank video and message cassettes, cameras, film, loud speaker system and other equipment: $4,000
Cost for message machines, installation and service charges: $4,000
Miscellaneous office supplies, typewriter, paper, rubber bands, etc.: $2,500
Political campaign expenditures: $4,000
Money given to Marge to keep her contented and working hard for two additional years: $6,000
etc., etc., etc.  

The preceding lists the large expenditures that come to mind. There were, of course, hundreds of minor expenditures, such as bail money, legal expenses brought on by Morris Dees, charity money I gave to members and their families, money spent on burlap, fuel oil and other things preparatory to rallies, meetings, and marches, food and beverages for large gatherings, gas money given to members during literature distributions, air plane rentals for Steve and I to make trips, paying Louis Beam to train members in use of computers, buying rifles and shotguns given away as prizes, three firearms to protect myself and my family, rental of Confederate uniforms for public marches, cost of photo developing, etc., etc., etc.

Of course, money also came into the CKKKK on a daily basis in the form of donations, dues, and the sale of T-shirts, flags, patches, video tapes, books and other items. The monthly income all tolled increased from about $800 to $1200 in August 1984 to between $3,500 to $4,000 in July 1986, but our expenditures always exceeded our income many times over, after August 1984.

And, I will admit I spent a few thousand dollars out of the $200,000 on my family, but it amounted to no more than that.

I kept records on Order money until it was reported over the news that Order member, Bruce Pierce, had informed federal prosecutors of my association with that group. Then I burned everything in writing that even hinted of that association, including financial records, and for good and obvious reasons.

I even burned three one-hundred dollar bills because they bore the name of a California bank, stamped in ink.

I am certain that among all the groups and individuals who received money from The Order, none came close to me in either the effective use of money in spreading racist and anti-Semitic propaganda, or in the percentage of Order money spent on The American White Movement.

My record of success and growth proved it. The whining of Klanwatch, the Anti-Klan Network and Morris Dees proved it. The attacks by the media proved it. And, state and federal investigations confirmed it.

And to top it off, I borrowed $25,000 from my father in April 1987, when the last of The Order money ran out, so I could go underground and declare war against the federal government.

Being in the White Movement also cost me my home and 25-acre farm in Johnston County in 1986. I was waiting to begin a six-month active prison sentence and it was too dangerous to leave my wife and four small children at that widely known address. So, I had to sell out quick and move them to a safer location, and lost $20,000 when doing so.

My family moved from a nice house and a 25-acre farm in my home state, to a mobile home and a 1-acre lot in Hillsville, VA.

By the time of my arrest on April 30, 1987, I was not only broke, I was indebted to my father for $25,000. And according to news media and prosecutor predictions, I was facing a 200-year prison sentence, to boot.

In August 1984, when I received Order money, the CKKKK had around 1,000 members and supporters, and our mailing list contained 400 to 500 addresses. Twenty-three months after that, we had over 5,000 members and supporters and our mailing list contained over 2,000 addresses. Our numbers increased fivefold in that short period.

The tremendous growth was due mostly, of course, to the money. But I must add that it was also due to the hard work of many dedicated members.

U.S. Attorney Samuel Currin hit the nail on the head in early 1986, when he was quoted in the Raleigh newspapers as having said, "They're gaining momentum and prominence."

Beginning in November 1984, federal agents began the arrests of Order members, and their crimes unfolded in the newspapers and on TV news. The media hounded me about the Bruce Pierce confessions, but I denied it, even to friends.

The story was so prominent in the news that in early 1985, Forrest Sawyer of CBS's Good Morning America TV show, phoned and invited me to appear on his program. He neglected to inform me, however, what the topic of conversation would be, so Steve and I boarded a plane, at CBS's expense and went to the Big Apple. I thought I was being given a grand opportunity to voice my racist and anti-Semitic views.

But, as I sat under the bright glaring TV lights at the studio, Sawyer leaned over, and live before ten million viewers, asked me, "Mr. Miller, is it true that you received stolen money from The Order?"

Prior to going on the air, neither he nor anyone else at CBS had mentioned a word about The Order, so I was surprised by the question. But, since it wasn't the first time I'd been surprised by questions from reporters, I didn't panic, and instead, answered, "Of course not. That's ridiculous and nothing more than Jewish propaganda designed to discredit legitimate and legal White leaders." And, I answered several more questions by injecting racist and anti-Semitic statements into the 5-minute conversation, much to Sawyer's discomfort.

Prior to going on the air and while waiting in the CBS lounge, Steve and I rubbed elbows with Harold Brown, the then U.S. Secretary of Defense, who was waiting to go on the same program to explain the military's position on servicemen joining White groups. He came in for a cup of coffee and Steve and I were already there drinking ours.

I didn't immediately recognize Brown, so I asked Steve, "Steve, who the hell is that? I think I've seen him before."

Steve informed me, and Brown (a Jew) overheard the conversation and frowned at us in indignation. He had deducted or recognized who we were, and he was visibly shaken.

By this time, Morris Dees, et al., were off my back, but only temporarily. I signed an agreement with him in January 1985, in exchange for his dropping the law suit. This meant that the investigations and depositions by the Southern Poverty Law Center ceased, and that myself or other members weren't being dragged into court every few days.

After 15 months of investigating Glenn Miller and the CKKKK and finding absolutely nothing criminal to charge me with, Dees offered me a deal in court one day.

"Glenn," said Dees, "I'll drop the lawsuit, if you'll sign this piece of paper."

He, I, and two of his associates went into a small office and I sat down and read it over. The agreement began with words to the effect; "l, Glenn Miller, as leader of the Confederate Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, and of any subsequent White supremacist organization, do hereby agree to comply with the following agreement":

The reader should remember the words, "as leader of," because they are the words which would eventually get me exiled from the White Movement and destroy my organization.

The agreement went on to state that I agreed not to assault, harass, or intimidate Black citizens, march through predominantly Black neighborhoods, or break either of the several North Carolina anti-Klan laws, which were listed by statute number, Since I did not intend to do any of those things anyway, I was willing to sign it, just to get Dees off my back so I could devote my full attention to my organization.

Later, I would proclaim to members and to the media, "Hell, I'd have signed that thing in the beginning for a $25 donation and saved Dees a million dollars in investigation costs."

I felt that if I broke the laws listed in the agreement, I'd be arrested anyway for breaking the laws, so why not sign a piece of paper saying I wouldn't? What difference did it make?

The difference was of course, that by signing the agreement "as leader of," I was accepting legal responsibility for every single member and associate of my organization.

All Dees had to do then was go back to Alabama and wait for me to publish a few more editions of my newspapers, so he could charge me with operating a paramilitary organization in violation of the agreement. He could hold me legally responsible for the actions of every member and associate of my organization.

But, even with all that, Dees would never have succeeded in getting me convicted without the use of two lying witnesses, Robert Norman Jones, and James Holder, who were coaxed, rehearsed, and persuaded to testify against me, and in my opinion, they were also paid money by Dees or one of Dees' associates.

Before the agreement could become legal, it first had to be approved by Judge Britt, so Dees and I went before him that same day. Judge Britt had to determine if we both understood what we were agreeing to, so when he asked if I understood, I explained my interpretation of the agreement. Of course, I had no attorney because I couldn't find one willing to take the case for less than $20,000, and the court couldn't provide a free one because it was then a civil case and not a criminal case. It wouldn't become a criminal case until months later, when Dees charged me with violating the agreement.

Nevertheless, I explained to Judge Britt that I wanted him to understand that I would not accept responsibility for the actions of other members and that by signing the agreement, I was simply agreeing not to break the laws myself. I even posed a hypothetical situation wherein a member of the CKKKK went out and broke the law without my knowledge or consent, and asked Judge Britt if, in that situation, I could be held responsible in a court of law.

He was evasive and did not give a clear answer, so I assumed my interpretation was correct, but it was not. Incidentally, every word spoken at that hearing is on court records, and therefore readily verifiable.

At that time, it was beyond my comprehension that any American citizen could be held legally responsible for the actions of others whom he had no control over. Hell, I couldn't force anybody to do anything or not do anything they wished, without violating their civil rights. And, the idea that I could, was preposterous to me.

Incredibly, the 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Richmond, Virginia would agree with Judge Britt that I could be held legally responsible for the actions of other people. After my conviction in July 1986, I appealed on the grounds that while some of my members may have violated the agreement, I did not, so therefore I was innocent. The appeals court disagreed, and the following newspaper report of their ruling was published in the August 18, 1988 edition of the Raleigh News & Observer:

"On appeal, Miller raised several issues relating to whether there was sufficient evidence to prove criminal contempt. Among them was his contention that he was not directly involved in activities by White Patriot Party members that allegedly violated Britt’s Order."

"But a unanimous three-judge panel of the 4th U.S. Circuit of Appeals said Miller, as head of the organization, had an obligation to put a halt to the prohibited activities."

"We believe that the jury could reasonably infer that Miller knew the prohibited activities were continuing and that he tacitly approved their continuance in dereliction of his obligation pursuant to the court order," the panel said."

Now, I ask the reader, is that a fair or constitutional ruling?

The court ruled that I "had an obligation to put a halt to the prohibited activities," of other people. Of course, the court declined to advise me just how I was supposed to put a halt to the activities of other people. They just said that I had a legal obligation to do so.

It appears to me that since the court required me to control other people by halting this or that activity, then the court also should have given me the legal power to do so, by making me either a U.S. Marshal or Deputy Sheriff.

Not only did Judge Britt, and the appeals court dictate that I was legally liable for the actions of 5,000 other people, the U.S. Supreme Court did, as well, because they ruled on my appeal by allowing the conviction to stand.

The leader of The Little Old Ladies' Sewing Association couldn't operate under those conditions. Nor, could the Wake County Baptist Deacon's Committee, because surely one or more of their 5,000 members would break some law sooner or later, and the leader of those organizations would go to jail along with the member who had broken the law.

Assuming the reader understands the preceding described situation I found myself in, after July 1986, then the reader also understands why I went underground and declared war against the bastards.

 

That judicial outrage, far more than anything else caused me to reach the conclusion that I had no other choice but to resort to illegal action.

And, not only had the court placed me in the impossible situation of being legally responsible for 5,000 other people, the court went even further and ordered me to dissociate myself completely from all the members of my group and all the members of 28 other groups, which the court listed. And the court sentenced me to prison, to boot.

So, I said to hell with all that obvious and blatantly unconstitutional conspiracy to shut Glenn Miller up, and after steaming for eight months about it, I did what I thought I had to do, and that was to declare war on the conniving sons-of-bitches.

After signing the Dees agreement and the meeting with Judge Britt in January 1985, Dees shook my hand, and asked if I'd give him a ride to the airport. He was returning in triumph to his home in Montgomery, Alabama. I agreed to give him a lift, thinking I would pick his brain a little during the one-hour ride to the Raleigh-Durham Airport, and gain more insight into that international darling of interracial brotherhood.

"Glenn," said Dees, as I drove along, "you could really do me a big favor, if you would."

"How's that, Morris?" I said, trying to sound friendly and receptive. I was, in fact, rather happy to be dropped from the lawsuit, and therefore, in a good mood.

Dees continued, "Glenn, I'm really not a bad guy. Hell, I'd defend you or any of your members for nothing if I felt your rights were being violated. That's the kind of guy I am. I'm spending a fortune on security, Glenn. If you would tell your friends in the other groups that I'm not a bad guy, I wouldn't need all that security. Some of them have threatened to kill me. Do you think you could help me out on this?"

I replied, "I guess so, Morris. I'll be talking to some of them, and I'll do what I can."

Listening and talking to Dees, I had accidentally made a wrong turn, and we found ourselves on a lonely dirt road outside Raleigh. Dees about had a nervous fit and raising up in his seat looking around, told me that I must have made a wrong turn and to turn around.

I did, and got back on track headed for the airport.

Dees calmed down a bit, and resumed the conversation, "Glenn, I own a 2,500 acre farm outside Montgomery, and I'd like for you to come down for a visit sometimes."

I replied, "Hey, that sounds great. I'll try to do that."

Then I began a conversation about Blacks and other minorities. "Morris," I said, "I just don't understand you. You're obviously a White man. How can you work so hard against White organizations? Don't you realize that the White race is dying out? The Blacks and Browns are multiplying at three times our rate. The country is being flooded with tens-of-millions of non-White aliens. And, abortion has already killed over 15 million White babies. Don't you worry about things like that?"

"But Glenn," said Dees, "it doesn't matter how many niggers there are. We'll always be on top because we're more intelligent than they are."

Dees was trying to appease me by using the word "nigger," and I pretended that he had, but I continued chiding him for his attacks on White racist groups and individuals. But, the conversation remained calm and friendly, and finally we arrived at the airport, and I dropped him off.

A few days later, I received a very friendly letter from Dees, along with a gift, two expensive green camouflage-colored ink pens. Later, in court in July 1986, my lawyer would show the letter to Dees and ask if he'd written it. And, he reluctantly admitted that he had since his signature was on it, but he flatly denied ever having ridden to the airport with me. However, at least one person saw us leave the courthouse together, a young lady whom I recognized as being one of the court clerks.

The CKKKK held the biggest public march in its history in January 1985. We had plenty of money then, thanks to The Order, and I spared no expense in preparing and advertising for it.

More than 500 of us marched ten blocks through downtown Raleigh, and held a rally and gave speeches in front of a huge Confederate memorial. Hundreds of members wearing camouflage uniforms and combat boots and carrying 3 x 5 foot Confederate battle flags mounted on 11-foot poles, more or less in step to loud martial music. I led the march with my bullhorn, counting cadence and leading periodic shouts of "White Power." Our video cameraman Tony Wydra did an outstanding job of capturing the march and speeches on film, which I reproduced later and sold copies of to members and the public.

Although we passed out 25,000 copies of The Confederate Leader to advertise the rally and to invite the White public to join with us, only a hundred or so spectators showed up, which was not unusual. A handful of protesters showed up also, and heckled a little, but they posed no problem or threat, whatsoever, thanks to at least fifty cops who were on hand, and to the sight of hundreds of young marching rednecks.

I also advertised by way of all our telephone message units, and through paid broadcasts on two separate radio stations. But, for whatever reasons, the White people around Raleigh never showed up in sizable numbers at any of our rallies, meetings, or marches.

Later, just following our January 1986 march through Raleigh, I received 2 or 3 separate phone calls from men saying they'd tried to join our march, but were stopped by Raleigh police who told them only members were allowed at our assembly point, and turned them away. I remember concluding at the time based on what they'd told me, that it was a deliberate action by some Raleigh cops to lessen our number of marchers. But I was so engrossed in other major problems at the time, I never got around to investigating. Who knows how many others were turned away, as well?

The morning after the march, I saw it again on a national news broadcast and it looked even more impressive, as it showed expert film footage taken from in front of our eight-abreast marching formation, with the accompanying sound of dynamic German martial music, which I had taped from a record entitled, "War Songs of The Third Reich." I remember being amused at the realization that hundreds-of-thousands of New York Jews also watched that scene and heard the TV moderator explain that neo-Nazis had marched in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina. And the film made it look like there were thousands of us.

Even Claude Sitton, editor of the liberal Raleigh News and Observer, told me later when I'd called to make my usual complaint about his news coverage, that the march was, in his words, "very impressive."

I made it a habit in those days to call various reporters and criticize their reporting of our activities, to put them on the defensive and to make them aware they had offended "The Klan," though it never succeeded in causing them to say or write anything good about us. It did, however, succeed in getting them to at least publicize our activities. So, I thought it worthwhile to call or write them frequently and punctually.

Five hundred marchers might not seem like much, but believe it or not, that's the most people participating in a public White racist demonstration in at least the preceding twenty years, in the entire country. And, except for our group, none other has managed that many demonstrators since then.

Even the Stone Mountain, Georgia public march failed to draw five hundred, and that march represented dozens of groups nationwide.

Rallies held on private property were, of course, a different matter. The CKKKK managed to attract as many as 2,000 at a rally. And, a few other groups managed 500 or so on rare occasions, but they were few and far between.

At the time, I attributed small turnouts to the apathy and cowardice of the White masses. I felt that though many millions sympathized with our racist Cause, they were afraid of Black mobs attacking them on the streets, losing their jobs, or of some other adverse repercussions, and that's why they stayed away from us. I was confident, however, that the more demonstrators we could put into the streets, the more people would overcome their fears and join with us. And, I was convinced that once we were able to field 1,000 uniformed men on a regular basis, that the White masses would be so inspired and so encouraged, they would begin flooding into the CKKKK and we would begin a gigantic momentum that would sweep the South. The momentum would create such a revolutionary spirit, that the masses would be stampeded into our ranks, much like people were stampeded into the ranks of the anti-Vietnam war movement, and the Civil Rights Movement.

I was also confident that once our numbers got into the tens-of-thousands with the corresponding finances, that the better educated and more capable Whites would join our ranks. Those people, I felt would form the leadership, and together with the masses, would constitute a formidable organization capable of achieving my goal of uniting, organizing, and educating the great White Southern masses.

That, of course, was my plan from the beginning, and I never changed, nor lost sight of it until my court conviction in July 1986.

1985 found us branching out into states other than North Carolina. We marched or held rallies in Georgia, South Carolina, and Tennessee, as well as throughout North Carolina. And, we saturated large areas of those and other Southern states with tens-of-thousands of our newspaper, The Confederate Leader. Those activities, plus our telephone message units brought increasing numbers of members, supporters, and financial donations reaching into a total of around thirty states.

Full CKKKK membership was restricted to the South, but I had no objection to outside money and supporters.

I purchased a used school bus for transporting members and for advertisement purposes. Removing the front half of seats, I replaced them with soft couches. Steve, Jack, Doug, and Charlie Reck painted the outside camouflage, and I hired a printer to print in large yellow letters: "WHITE PATRIOT PARTY — CALL 894-5230 — WHITE PRIDE, WHITE UNITY, WHITE POWER," on both sides and the rear. Later, I added: "GLENN MILLER FOR U.S. SENATE."

After wiring two 11-foot flag poles holding large Confederate flags onto the bus, we drove it through dozens of towns and cities, but this activity being somewhat provocative, I always included at least a half-dozen heavily armed men. Once, we parked it in the WRAL TV parking lot in Raleigh, where I held a press conference. The bus was defective and broke down several times, and I wound up buying two additional motors, plus paying for other repairs, but we managed to get thousands of miles out of it.

I scheduled one big march or rally for every single month during 1985 and early 1986. That was in addition to routine meetings, spontaneous demonstrations, and other activities. Some months, we marched through as many as two or three cities in one day and staged a rally the same night.

The city police in Forest City, North Carolina gave us a hard time and harassed us a little in efforts to discourage us, so I had an extra march through that city the following month in protest, and they were much nicer the second time around. I was determined to make our public demonstrations as acceptable to the authorities as were demonstrations by Black groups, and I believe I succeeded to some large degree. White law enforcement officials were not especially against our Cause, they just disliked the bother and extra work involved with our parades, and like most other Whites, they felt we were trying to "Stir up the Negroes," which was never my desire or intent.

In any case, I was nice to all authorities, complying with their city ordinances, and obtaining necessary permits. I did however, on occasion, chastise arrogant police officers over my bullhorn when I felt they were interfering unnecessarily with our marchers. And, I would usually meet with city police chiefs or their representatives prior to marches, to coordinate parade routes, to familiarize myself with their local ordinances, and to establish good working relationships.

The Raleigh police were especially accommodating because I let them know that I would cooperate with them if they'd cooperate with me. An unruly mob can be extremely troublesome to the police and they well knew it, as did I. But, more than one Raleigh police officer confided in me that the CKKKK was the most orderly and clean crowd of demonstrators they'd ever worked with.

We held large marches and demonstrations in downtown Raleigh in both January and February 1985, the first being to protest against the Martin Luther King holiday, and the second to protest against forced racial school integration. And, we held a dozen or so other demonstrations in Raleigh over those years. The police didn't like it, but they were kind and cooperative.

The South Carolina and Georgia police were the exact opposite. During our rally in Columbia, which about 400 people attended, the local police showed up in the hundreds, and many stopped vehicles and harassed members and others en route to the rally site. And, at the rally site, they forced members to open the trunks of their cars for random searches. Hundreds of Whites turned around and left out of fear and intimidation, which was blatantly the intention of the police to begin with.

During our Georgia rallies, the police had the legal authority to come onto our privately owned rally fields and harass members by looking into vehicles, writing down license plate numbers, taking pictures, and intentionally looked menacing at the rally attendees.

The police in Georgia and South Carolina were well aware of our prominence in North Carolina, and they were determined to discourage us from extending that prominence into their states. They wanted us out of sight and out of mind, so to speak, and therefore no problem to them. They had enough problems with Black groups, and they sure as hell weren't going to allow their problems to double with White ones, if there was any way to prevent it. Of course, I could understand their point of view, but I thought they should have at least considered our constitutional right of Freedom of Speech and assembly, anyhow. And, I rammed it down their throats through press conferences before TV, radio, and newspaper reporters, and letters to the editor to the largest newspaper in South Carolina and Georgia. And I threatened them with Klan marches through downtown Columbia and Atlanta, which I knew they dreaded much more than any private property rallies.

Given time, I believe I could have convinced police officials in other Southern states to accept us, just as I had convinced North Carolina officials. But, because of my 1986 court conviction, I was not given the time.

 

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