This book is dedicated to all Caucasians in the Great Republic who can trace their ancestry back ten generations and confidently assert that there are no black leaves, twigs, limbs or branches on thei...

Over twenty years ago a gentleman in Asbury Park, NJ began manufacturing and advertising a preparation for the immediate and unfailing straightening of the most stubborn Negro hair. This preparation w...

Max Disher stood outside the Honky Tonk Club puffing a panatela and watching the crowds of white and black folk entering the cabaret. Max was tall, dapper and smooth coffee-brown. His negroid features...

Slowly, haltingly, Max Disher dragged his way down the hall to the elevator, supported on either side by an attendant. He felt terribly weak, emptied and nauseated; his skin twitched and was dry and f...

Dr. Junius Crookman, looking tired and worn, poured himself another cup of coffee from the percolator near by and turning to Hank Johnson, asked “What about that new electrical apparatus?” “On th’ way...

Matthew Fisher, alias Max Disher, joined the Easter Sunday crowds, twirling his malacca stick and ogling the pretty flappers who passed giggling in their Spring finery. For nearly three months he had ...

A huge silver monoplane glided gracefully to the surface of Mines Field in Los Angeles and came to a pretty stop after a short run. A liveried footman stepped out of the forward compartment armed with...

Two important events took place on Easter Sunday, 1934. The first was a huge mass meeting in the brand new reinforced concrete auditorium of the Knights of Nordica for the double purpose of celebratin...

One June morning in 1934, Grand Exalted Giraw Fisher received a report from one of his secret operatives in the town of Paradise, South Carolina, saying: “The working people here are talking about goi...

For over two years now had Black-No-More, Incorporated, been carrying on its self-appointed task of turning Negroes into Caucasians. The job was almost complete, except for the black folk in prisons, ...

“Bunny, I’ve got it all worked out,” announced Matthew, several mornings later, as he breezed into the office. “Got what worked out?” “The political proposition.” “Spill it.” “Well, here it is: First,...

Hank Johnson, Chuck Foster, Dr. Crookman and Gorman Gay, National Chairman of the Republican National Committee, sat in the physician’s hotel suite conversing in low tones. “We’re having a tough time ...

“What’s the matter with you, Matt?” asked Bunny one morning about a month before election. “Ain’t everything going okeh? You look as if we’d lost the election and failed to elect that brilliant intell...

The afternoon before election Matthew and Bunny sat in the latter’s hotel suite sipping cocktails, smoking and awaiting the inevitable. They had been waiting ever since the day before. Matthew, tall a...

Toward eleven o’clock on the evening before election day, a long, low roadster swept up to the door of a stately country home near Richmond, VA, crunched to a stop, the lights were extinguished and tw...