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An Open Letter & Open Report / Part 1 of 3
June 7, 2019
Part 1 of 3
Dear Ms. Lunelle,
On Tuesday, May 21, 2019, I would travel to the great state of South Carolina to the City of Charleston and serve as the guest speaker to the Sons of Confederate Veterans Secession Camp #4.
As I stood before the camp members, their guests, family and members of the public, I would express how honored I was to be in the home state of my mom, who considered the citizens of South Carolina to be amongst the most courageous and patriotic citizens in the history of the Union.
And, only would come the time, my mom said, when its political leaders were forced to speak of nullification from the compact they forged, because they could not be silent as greedy politicians and Northern industrialists bilked their state coffers with total disregard of suffering imposed upon its citizens. The bloodletting continued after a supposed compromise, and tensions heightened with the election of Abraham Lincoln, and his voiced support of the Morrill Act, a tariff that its leaders felt would surely bankrupt its state coffers, and those of many other states in the South.
They voted to utilize their legal right as spelled out in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution to move away from this Compact, and to form a government to better serve the needs of the state and its people.
I would tell them that the Honorable President Jefferson Davis, like most of the military men who made up his army and navy leadership, were men who loved this Union that my mom spoke of, for there was far too much Southern blood that had been spilled to bring it into fruition. President Davis, just like these war heroes, only wanted to go in peace, if they had to go.
Peace would not come to my mom and dad’s South. Lincoln would conspire with the Northern army leaders before he took office to send his military force South. He saddled up with the devil and his minions, and unleashed hell upon the people of the South like never before in the annals of mankind.
I would tell these wonderful people gathered that I was so sorry that they and their ancestors had been stripped of the dignity they so deserved from this nation because of the stand they made against tyranny and the rule of law. And even worse that the African people were so used to further this charge and false narrative.
And, what the Northern Press had done here in the 21st century far surpassed what Thaddeus Stephens had visualized for his modus operandi for Southern destruction, and that this sacrilege and carnage of the Memorials to our fallen dead heroes is an affront to the women of the South. How brave they were in the times that tried men’s souls. Often sending their dearest treasure of their bleeding hearts without a tear to meet the foe. Mothers who gave both son and husband to their country.
Let us build monuments to our Confederate dead the women would say. It is a woman’s province to rear these remembrances. It was her smile that encouraged, her voice that cheered, her sympathy that followed like angels in the camp, the march, the siege. It was her hands that bound up the wounds, her tears that consecrated the graves. It was hers to rear these evidences of devotion to country and principle. And she did! And now the devil tears them down!
I would tell these wonderful people that my mom and dad would tell my brothers and sisters and I that while so many would condemn the worldwide economic institution of slavery, for those of our ancestors who were lucky enough to find themselves in the Southland of America living and working beside a man and woman who had high regard for the entity called Jesus Christ, and who would bathe the souls of our ancestors in his majesty, in lieu of all the things that the likes of Harriet Beecher Stowe would write, at the end of the day in the Southland of America, we were family, all living and working together in a hostile environment so many could not and would not survive on either side of the Mason Dixon.
My dad would say, “Go look in the mirror, my children, and if you like what you see, get down on your knees and thank the Almighty God that your great, great grandma Hettie, just like your mom’s family Robinson and Williams did in the Southland of America, with the same spirit of hard work, good manners, and respect. And if you emulate them, you will be men, my sons, and you will be women my daughters, no matter what caste you find yourselves in.”
After a nights rest, I would make my way to Temple Terrace, Florida, to address a gathering of my compatriots at a dinner in my honor. Happy Birthday, Savannah, my dear niece! God bless you!
Your brother,
HK
Chairman, Board of Advisors Emeritus, Southern Legal Resource Center
Member, Save Southern Heritage Florida
President, Southern Heritage 411
