This is my two hundred and first monthly teaching letter and continues my seventeenth year of publication. Since WTL #137, I have been continuing a series entitled The Greatest Love Story Ever Told, and have been expanding on its seven stages ever since: (1) the courtship, (2) the marriage, (3) the honeymoon, (4) the estrangement, (5) the divorce, (6) the reconciliation, and (7) the remarriage.

THE GREATEST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD, Part 60,

THE REMARRIAGE (i.e., Second Advent):

In WTL lesson #’s 199 and 200, we dwelt on the passage at Isaiah 4:1 which states: “And in that day seven women shall take hold of one man, saying, We will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel: only let us be called by thy name, to take away our reproach.”

I am still of the opinion that we are now living in the age when this prophecy will be fulfilled, as before WW II, the conditions didn’t exist where a woman could “... eat [her] own bread, and wear [her] own apparel ...” The way society is now going, it appears that Isaiah 4:1 will not be fulfilled until after the Second Advent of Christ, as it seems that we never learn anything until after-the-fact! It is paramount that we understand at Yahshua Christ’s Second Advent that all nonwhites and race-mixed persons will cease to exist per, Obadiah15-16: “¹⁵ For the day of Yahweh is near upon all the heathen: as thou hast done, it shall be done unto thee: thy reward shall return upon thine own head. ¹⁶ For as ye have drunk upon my holy mountain [Israel lands],so shall all the heathen drink continually, yea, they shall drink, and they shall swallow down [the food they obtained with food-stamps], and they shall be as though they had not been.” And there will be no resurrection for nonwhites that are not 100% pure White! 99.99999999%ers will not make the grade!

However, for those who are 100% pure White Adamites, there will be two different resurrections and two different judgments, John 5:20, 25-29: “²⁰ For as the Father raiseth up the dead, and quickeneth them; even so the Son quickeneth whom he will ... ²⁵ Verily, verily, I say unto you, The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of Yahweh: and they that hear shall live. ²⁶ For as the Father hath life in himself; so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself; ²⁷ And hath given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of man [i.e., Adam]. ²⁸ Marvel not at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, ²⁹ And shall come forth; they [pure White Adamites] that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they [pure White Adamites] that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.” Again, there will be no resurrection for nonwhites, for they will be a thing of the past!

Speaking of the resurrection, it would be well to peruse John 6:39-44: “³⁹ And this is the Father’s will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day. ⁴⁰ And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day. ⁴¹ The [Edomite]-Jews then murmured at him, because he said, I am the bread which came down from heaven. ⁴² And they said, Is not this Yahshua, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? how is it then that he saith, I came down from heaven? ⁴³ Yahshua therefore answered and said unto them, Murmur not among yourselves. ⁴⁴ No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him: and I will raise him up at the last day.” Again, there will be no resurrection for nonwhites, as they will be entirely annihilated at Yahshua’s Second Coming!

There is more on resurrection at Acts 2:26-31: “²⁶ Therefore did my heart rejoice, and my tongue was glad; moreover also my flesh shall rest in hope: ²⁷ Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption. ²⁸ Thou hast made known to me the ways of life; thou shalt make me full of joy with thy countenance. ²⁹ Men and brethren, let me freely speak unto you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried, and his sepulchre is with us unto this day. ³⁰ Therefore being a prophet, and knowing that Yahweh had sworn with an oath to him, that of the fruit of his loins, according to the flesh, he would raise up Christ to sit on his throne; ³¹ He seeing this before spake of the resurrection of Christ, that his soul was not left in hell, neither his flesh did see corruption.” Again, in no way will there be a resurrection for nonwhites, as they will be toast! Instead of being as “a cake not turned” (Hos. 7:8), they will be burned on both sides, inside and out, with nothing left “... as though they had not been” which leaves no room even for an unpleasant memory!

It is apparent that upon the Second Advent of Christ, there will be a drastic transformation of the world’s population, all for the better! With the two resurrections, and the eradication of all of the nonwhite and mule-peoples, there’ll be a racial shift that will simply dumbfound one’s imagination. However, with the exception of the removal of the nonwhite and mixed multitudes, which will happen immediately at Christ’s appearance, the two resurrections and the two judgments may take thousands of years to complete. It is important to understand that eventually Yahweh’s Sovereign Will shall prevail, which takes us back to Gen. 1:28 where it states:

“And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish [sic fill] the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.”

Charles Thomson’s Septuagint reads thusly on verse 28:

“[28] And God blessed them saying, ‘Increase and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and all the cattle, and all the earth, and all the reptiles which creep on the earth’.”

This Septuagint translation by Charles Thomson shows that when the Old Testament was translated from the Hebrew into the Greek somewhere around 285 to 247 B.C., the translators understood that it meant “fill” rather than “replenish”, as the KJV has it, and there is a lot of difference between the two. The important thing to grasp here, unless one understands the proper meaning of the word, is that it will be impossible to conceive of what the Sovereign Will of Yahweh consists. Paul speaks of Yahweh’s Will at Romans 12:2 thusly:

“And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”

The perfect Will of the Almighty is expressed again at John 6: 37-40 stating: “³⁷ All that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. ³⁸ For I came down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me. ³⁹ And this is the Father’s will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day. ⁴⁰ And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day.”

Christ then explained Himself more completely at John 20:27-29: “²⁷ Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. ²⁸ And Thomas answered and said unto him, My Sovereign and my God. ²⁹ Yahshua saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”

To understand some of these things, it is paramount that we become familiar with the three Wills of Yahweh, and in order to get a handle on the subject of Yahweh’s Wills, we have to come to the realization that He has three different Wills which come into play, depending on the circumstance at hand. These three Wills are as follows:

1. Yahweh’s Supreme-Sovereign Will, which consists of the desires of His heart, or His ideal design to achieve His ultimate objectives, such as expressed at Matthew 18:14.

2. Yahweh’s Permissive Will, which consists of our own personal choices, whether beneficial or detrimental, as not to limit each individual’s free will which He granted us at our creation. He allows us to suffer or profit by our own decisions, whether advantageous or harmful.

3. Yahweh’s Ultimate Will, which permits Him to achieve His own goals given man’s choices, whether good or bad, working all things out according to His Purpose for the good of those who love Him, Romans 8:28.

While it’s not in our line of thought for this lesson, there is a good Bible passage that shows the distinction between Yahweh’s Sovereign and Permissive Wills in two successive verses at Isa. 1:19-20 thus:

“¹⁹ If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land: ²⁰ But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of Yahweh hath spoken it.”

As one can see, this is quite a severe admonition coming directly from the Almighty! It might be well, when we are studying our Bible to take notice of these three Wills of Yahweh, for there are many times we fall into the “Permissive” rather than the “Sovereign” category, and we are helpless to do anything about it. For example, when our forefathers (the house of Israel and later the house of Judah), were divorced and placed into punishment for 2,520 years, it was not by the Sovereign Will of Yahweh, but His Permissive Will. And because all of the tribes didn’t enter these 2,520 year periods at the same time, they didn’t all come out at the same time either, so for all of the twelve tribes, it covers a greater period than 2,520 years.

In the first place, the reason that all of Israel was placed into punishment was because they rejected Yahweh as their Sovereign, and demanded a king like the heathen around them. Well, Yahweh let them have their king-style of government, and throughout their punishment period it was a dismal failure. So after the king debacle for 2,520 years of king-rule, the various Israel nations decided on a representative-style of man-rule. That isn’t working out either, and our punishment continues. As a matter-of-fact, we will not be free until the Second Advent of Yahshua. What it all boils down to is, when we were born, we came into existence during a decree under Yahweh’s Permissive Will, and we have no say in the matter! So when we pray the Lord’s prayer (for the want of a better name) we utter “... Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven ...”, we are requesting His Sovereign Will to take effect. So whatever politics one might adopt, it will provide no relief of our sufferings until Christ’s Second Coming! It’ll be then, and then only, that we can expect to live under equitable rule! That’s why we must have an individual judgment for (1) the righteous, and (2) the unjust Adamites.

I will now refer to my essay Resurrection Life, How, When & For Whom? in part:

There is probably no other Biblical topic with so many and varied concepts as the Resurrection. Each little splinter-group has its own interpretation, and usually applies it to their own sect. But at 2 Peter 1:20 he says: “Knowing this first, that no prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation.” To this we must ask, “Does the Resurrection fall under the category of prophecy?” It would appear that it might be a good idea to see what Scripture has to say on the subject. When studying a topic in Scripture it is always a good idea to use the rule of first mention. The first mention alluding to eternal life is found at Genesis 3:22: “And Yahweh singular Elohim said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever.” The only tree through which we can receive eternal life is Yahshua the Messiah, and Yahshua was no more a physical wooden tree than “... the tree of knowledge of good and evil ...” (Gen. 2:9). This is metaphorical language for living entities (Yahweh and Satan). The Bible uses the metaphor “dry tree” for a eunuch (Isa. 56:3). Yet there are those who demand that every Biblical tree be a wooden tree. They even demand that Eve ate from a wooden tree! Thus, at Genesis 3:22 we have the first allusion to eternal life. (Also cross-reference Rev. 2:7; 22:2.)

It is amazing, but there are many who don’t believe in a bodily resurrection, that somehow it will be only spiritual. There is probably no other Biblical doctrine so twisted entirely out-of-shape. Let’s readJohn 5:28: “Marvel not at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice ...” Would not this be similar to when Yahshua Christ called Lazarus from the dead, except he was resurrected only to die again; John 11:43? However, this passage is resurrection to life eternal. And, as we shall see later, the term “all” must be qualified.

Continuing at verse 29: “And shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of judgment.” Well, how many resurrections do we have here? Two, of course. There are a lot who teach a general resurrection. Just think of the amount of confusion that would cause. These are two different resurrections at two different times. And the first of these two resurrections is not going to happen just at the beginning of a so-called “rapture”, followed by a so-called “seven years of tribulation” as the futurists claim! Rather, life will be continuing on, similar to how we observe it today, and as Paul describes it at 1 Cor. 15:51-52: “⁵¹ Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, ⁵² In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.”

This will be an interesting period of time to experience for all those who will go through it. It will be a judgment in itself. Imagine all the embarrassed pastors who were teaching false doctrine, not receiving a glorified body while some in their congregations do! Consider the spouse who receives a glorified body, but the mate who does not because of having a tinge of racial impurity! Envision the surprise of many who had family or friends who recently died who everyone considered outstanding Christians who are not resurrected, while many who were not considered Christian are. Ponder why some are not included, even though racially pure, simply because they dealt deceitfully, confiscating someone else’s valuable lawful possessions. Also, contemplate the wonderment of people when some will suddenly appear to be about 30 rather than 70 or 80. And think of the amazement, when it is discovered, that not a single member of a non-white or half-breed union are included. So the “all” at John 5:28 does not include “all” races! William Finck’s translation of Phil. 2:14-15 reads:

“¹⁴ Do all things apart from murmuring and disputing, ¹⁵ that you would be perfect and with unmixed blood, blameless children of Yahweh in the midst of a race crooked and perverted - among whom you appear as luminaries in the cosmos ...”

But the biggest question is: What are we going to do with all the aborted and stillborn White babies, along with those who died before accountability? Surely, they will not be in the resurrection of the condemned. Picture in your mind the distraught catholics whose current pope receives not an immortal body. Nor shall John-Paul, the recent bad-fig-jewish pope, be resurrected.

Those of the resurrection to life appear to be raised all at the same time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with those resurrected to judgment. 1 Cor. 15:22-24: “²² For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. ²³ But every man in his own order: Christ the firstfruits; afterward they that are Christ’s at his coming. ²⁴ Then cometh the end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to Yahweh, even the Father; when he shall have put down all rule and all authority and power.” From1 Cor. 15:51-52, it is clear that both the “resurrected” and those “changed” will be instantaneous, while at 1 Cor. 15:22-24 it is “every man in his own order”. That each man will be judged separately is clear at 1 Cor. 3:11-15: “¹¹ For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Yahshua Christ. ¹² Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; ¹³ Every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. ¹⁴ If any man’s work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. ¹⁵ If any man’s work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.”

There are two categories of works here to be judged, those which will stand the test of fire, and those which will not. Thus, all false doctrines will be burned up, never to be promoted again, and those advancing them will find themselves empty-handed before Yahshua, totally without reward. But like it says, they will be saved, yet they will not be given any authority in the kingdom since they have proved themselves untrustworthy. Sorry to say, there is a lot of wood, hay and stubble floating around Israel Identity today! ....

When Paul said at 1 Cor. 15:23, “But every man in his own order: Christ the firstfruits; afterward they that are Christ’s at his coming”, the “green ears” at Lev. 2:14 are the “firstfruits” that he was talking about! It was paramount that no one eat any of the barley crop until after two wave sheaves were offered, for in like manner there was no one resurrected to everlasting life until after Christ rose to life. Therefore, there was not a single Adamite resurrected to eternal life until Christ was raised to life after His Crucifixion.

To get a better preview of the two resurrections we have referenced from Scripture thus far, I will next quote 1 Tim. 5:24, which says: “Some men’s sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment; and some men they follow after.” This should make it clear that there are indeed two different groups of people involved, one receiving rewards and the other receiving judgmental condemnation with little or no reward. The first group are those who were humble enough to admit their inadequate position and believed the gospel, and adjusted their lives according to the light given them during their contemporary tenure. This first group would even include many who were under the corrupt roman catholic religious system during the dark ages. The second group are those who were wise in their own [proud] conceit (Proverbs 26:5). Compare the two malefactors crucified with Christ (Luke 23: 39-43).

How many years are going to be consumed for both the judgmentof rewards and the judgment of wood, hay and stubble is not fully evident, but 1 Cor. 15:23 simply states, “... But every man in his own order ...” The Greek term translated into English by the A.V. as “order” is Strong’s #5001, or τáγμα tágma; genitive tágmatos, neuter noun from tássô (5021), to arrange in an orderly manner. Anything arranged in order or array such as a body of troops, a band, cohort (Septuagint 2 Sam. 23:13). In the NT, order sequence, or turn (1 Cor. 15:23), The Complete Word Study Dictionary by Spiros Zodhiates, page 1364.

This Greek term is obviously a military term for a military company, platoon, cohort, division or a Roman legion. It should now be apparent that each person in the wood, hay and stubble category will be judged with their contemporaries both in time and location. In order to accomplish this it is evident that those resurrected to judgment cannot all be resurrected at the same time. One can now see that this would be a very orderly way to carry out a judgmental condemnation. Thus, nothing will be hidden under the rug. All innocent victims will be exonerated! To judge all those in the resurrection of wood, hay and stubble may take hundreds or even thousands of years to complete.

And resurrection is for White Adamites only. This can be verified at Ecc. 3:21: “Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?” Who are the beasts spoken of here? Jeremiah 31:27 will give us a clue: “Behold, the days come, saith Yahweh, that I will sow the house of Israel and the house of Judah with the seed of man, and with the seed of beast.” Are we to believe that the house of Israel and the house of Judah will literally have sexual intercourse with animals and produce offspring half animal and half man? After all, the A.V. term “beast” (Strong’s #929) is the same Hebrew word at Ecc. 3:21 and Jer. 31:27. So it is obvious that both of these passages speak not of four-legged animals, but of beast-people! Now with angels it is different, as they can take upon themselves the form of man or other living creatures such as animals or birds. At Josephus’ Antiquities 18:6:7 and 19:8:2, he records two instances where angels took on the form of an owl, to which Eusebius (in his Church History) agrees at 2.10, and which is found in Scripture as “angel” at Acts 12: 23. For an angel to transform to man, bird (owl) or animal kind is but one step away from cohabitation with them, procreating mutants. Are we not witnessing today the “sow[ing of] the house of Israel and the house of Judah with the seed of man, and with the seed of beast-[people]”? When beast-people, or any mixture thereof die, there is no resurrection for them. It’s that simple, for “the spirit of the beast ... goeth downward to the earth”!

This brings up another interesting sequel for those resurrected to condemnation. While the condemned Whites will be saved, they can hardly be in the resurrection of rewards for bringing forth mixed-beast offspring! Even the patriarch Judah mixed his seed with a Canaanite woman. But there is sufficient evidence that he repented of that, sending his sin forward to the judgment, rather than following after. Therefore it would appear that it would be advisable for all those of the house of Israel and the house of Judah to repent likewise before it is too late, and disown the unclean spouse and any offspring from such a union. And thank Yahweh, a few have and will reap reward rather than judgment by sending their sins forward to the judgment! Even though the majority probably will not repent and disown the offspring by beast-people, at the resurrection of the wood, hay and stubble, they will still be saved, but will be mighty low on the totem-pole in the kingdom. Even lower still will be the pastors (especially in Israel Identity) who teach and preach universalism, a doctrine which Yahshua Christ hates! “And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.” (Daniel 12:2)

To show this I will repeat a portion of my brochure Was Christ Politically Incorrect? The following rendition of Matt. 13:47-50 does absolutely no violence to this passage:

“⁴⁷ Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a net, that was cast into the sea [of people] , and gathered of every race: ⁴⁸ Which, when it was full, they drew to shore, and sat down, and gathered the good [racial kind] into vessels, but cast the bad [racial kind] away. ⁴⁹ So shall it be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, ⁵⁰ And shall cast them [the bad racial kind] into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.” These are Christ’s words, not mine! Therefore, the only conclusion we can arrive at is the fact that Yahshua Christ Himself is a RACIST.

Yahweh never dealt with the other races, but only with White Adamites, and after Abraham, Isaac and Jacob He dealt exclusively with Israelites. When Yahweh came in the flesh as Yahshua, He came exclusively to the lost sheep of Israel! And the false pastors who teach that “After the Jews rejected their Messiah, God turned to the Gentiles”, they are just what Scripture calls them, “dumb dogs”. There’s a lot of difference between a bad-fig-jew and a racially pure member of the tribe of Judah. Yahshua Christ is one of the latter!

Some of the dumb dog pastors teach a spirit-only resurrection. If our Redeemer did not resurrect in a physical body, He is no longer of the tribe of Judah, and Revelation 5:5 is a lie. I have said it before and I will repeat it again, Yahweh was spirit until He came in the flesh as Yahshua. Therefore He came in the flesh, He grew up in the flesh, He ministered in the flesh, He was crucified in the flesh, He arose from the dead in the flesh, He ascended in the flesh, and He will return at His Second Coming in the flesh. And Job declared at 19:25-26: “²⁵ For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: ²⁶ And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God ...”

The 1833 Webster Bible translates it: “25 For I know {that} my redeemer liveth, and {that} he will stand at the latter {day} upon the earth: 26 And {though} after my skin {worms} destroy this {body}, yet in my flesh shall I see God ...”

The 1599 Geneva Bible translates it:: “²⁵ For I am sure, that my Redeemer liueth [sic old English] , and he shall stand the last on the earth. ²⁶ And though after my skin wormes destroy this bodie, yet shall I see God in my flesh.”

An important passage on the resurrection is found at Acts 17:29-33: “²⁹ Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of Yahweh, we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by art and man’s device. ³⁰ And the times of this ignorance Yahweh winked at; but now commandeth all men every where to repent: ³¹ Because he hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he hath ordained; whereof he hath given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead. ³² And when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked: and others said, We will hear thee again of this matter. ³³ So Paul departed from among them.”

It is paramount that we notice that Paul addresses the offspring of Yahweh, and no other. So the “all men” at verse 30 can only be Adamites, especially Israelites. Paul is not opening the door to the other races as many falsely imply! Rather, speaking to Athenians, Ionian Greeks, he was addressing Japhethite descendants of Javan (Gen. 10:2), whom the Athenians were. You will also notice that Paul uses the word “repent”, which is the Greek word #3340, going to the NA27 in the Libronix Digital Library, it links to The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament vol. 4, page 625:

“... μєτανοει̑ν means a change of heart either generally or in respect of a specific sin, whereas μєтαμє́λєσθаι means ‘to experience remorse.’ μєтаνоєι̑ν implies that one has later arrived at a different view of something ...”

Thus, Paul was simply telling his audience that their premise was flawed and they needed to change their mind. Nominal churchianity declares the first resurrection is for the saved and the second for the unsaved, or lost, but as we have observed, both are saved, and the first is for reward and the second for judgment.

There was another resurrection recorded at Matt. 27:50-53 which reads: “⁵⁰ Yahshua, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. ⁵¹ And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent; ⁵² And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, ⁵³ And came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.”

Many make the mistake of thinking that these saints came out of their graves during the crucifixion. There are two important things to notice about this resurrection. First, and as I have said before, not a single person was resurrected to life eternal until after Christ’s Resurrection, which verse 53 makes very clear. Second, this resurrection was only an earnest (down payment) on the final two resurrections. You will notice verse 53 says: “... and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many ...” It should be obvious that Jerusalem cannot contain the amount of people who will be in the first rewards resurrection and second judgment resurrection! Some may number these three resurrections differently than I have here. Some even refer to these three resurrections as the barley resurrection, the wheat resurrection, and the wine resurrection. Whatever number or name is attached to these three resurrections, Christ’s Resurrection and those raised at Matt. 27:50-53 must fall under the barley resurrection. [End of my essay Resurrection Life, How, When & For Whom? in part.]

Resurrection requires the concept of Redemption, and means purchasing back something one once owned. For a good definition of our subject, I will cite The Popular And Critical Bible Encyclopedia And Scriptural Dictionary, ©1904, vol. 3, p. 1433:

“REDEEM, REDEEMED ...

“1. To redeem is to buy back persons or things formerly sold, by paying a due price for them (Lev. xxv:25).

“2: To deliver from distress and bondage, by the exertion of great power and love (Deut. vii :5; xxxii:6).

“3. To deliver men from the broken law, sin, Satan, an evil world, death, and hell, by the price of Jesus’ obedience and suffering, and by means of the enlightening and sanctifying power of his Spirit (Luke i:68; Gal. iv:4, 5; Tit. ii:I4 ; 1 Pet. i:[18], I9), they are ‘redeemed from the earth,’ from among carnal men, and ‘to God,’ into a state of fellowship with, and voluntary subjection to him (Rev. v:9; xiv:3).

“4. To ‘redeem time’ is, under the conviction of misspending much of it, to double our diligence in the improvement of what remains for us (Eph. v:16). The children of Israel are called ‘the redeemed of the Lord [sic Yahweh]’ (Isa. xxxv:9; lxii:12), as returning from Babylonian captivity ....”

From the time Abraham placed Isaac on the altar of Yahweh, Abraham’s descendants through Isaac and Jacob became His one and only CHOSEN PEOPLE. From the time that Christ suffered on the Cross, He purchased back His CHOSEN PEOPLE (the twelve tribes of Israel), and absolutely no one else. However, the other non-covenant White Adamites will be resurrected, having a lower status.

This is my two hundred and second monthly teaching letter and continues my seventeenth year of publication. Since WTL #137, I have been continuing a series entitled The Greatest Love Story Ever Told, and have been expanding on its seven stages ever since: (1) the courtship, (2) the marriage, (3) the honeymoon, (4) the estrangement, (5) the divorce, (6) the reconciliation, and (7) the remarriage.

THE GREATEST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD, Part 61,

THE REMARRIAGE (i.e., Second Advent):

In the last lesson, WTL #201, we covered the subjects of the Second Advent of Christ, and the two judgments of the good and evil Israelites, along with how all of the White Adamites (covenant and non-covenant) will be resurrected in their own order, “some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt ...”, Daniel 12:2.

To really get the context of this excerpt, we need especially to read vv. 1 through 4 thusly:

“¹ And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation even to that same time: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book. ² And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. ³ And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever. ⁴ But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book, even to the time of the end: many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.”

I am sure that many who are reading this are longing for the time when we will either be resurrected, or changed in a nanosecond, and receive an immortal body. On the other hand, the changes that are to take place will be very frightening, and we will have to pray to Yahshua Christ to give us strength to endure the terrifying events that are prophesied to happen, Isaiah 27:1-4:

“¹ In that day Yahweh with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent; and he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea [of people]. ² In that day sing ye unto her, A vineyard of red wine. ³ I Yahweh do keep it; I will water it every moment: lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day. ⁴ Fury is not in me: who would set the briers and thorns against me in battle? I would go through them, I would burn them together.”

I should point out that Jamieson, Fausset and Brown in their 6-volume Commentary (although they confuse the Edomite-jews with the true Israelite tribe of Judah), do make a good observation on Isaiah 26:20 where the KJV states:

“Come my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast.”

Then the comment is made by Jamieson, Fausset and Brown, vol. 3, p. 644: “20 Come my people, enter thou into thy chambers. When God is about to take vengeance on the ungodly, the saints shall be shut in by Him in a place of safety, as Noah and his family were in the days of the flood (Gen. 7:16), and as Israel was commanded not to go out of doors on the night of the slaying of the Egyptian first-born ....”

A center-reference takes us to Psalm 74:12-23:

“¹² For Elohim is my King of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth. ¹³ Thou didst divide the sea by thy strength: thou brakest the heads of the dragons in the waters [i.e., sea of people]. ¹⁴ Thou brakest the heads of leviathan in pieces, and gavest him to be meat to the people inhabiting the wilderness. ¹⁵ Thou didst cleave the fountain and the flood: thou driedst up mighty rivers. ¹⁶ The day is thine, the night also is thine: thou hast prepared the light and the sun. ¹⁷ Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter. ¹⁸ Remember this, that the enemy hath reproached, O Yahweh, and that the foolish people have blasphemed thy name. ¹⁹ O deliver not the soul of thy turtledove unto the multitude of the wicked: forget not the congregation of thy poor for ever. ²⁰ Have respect unto the covenant: for the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty. ²¹ O let not the oppressed return ashamed: let the poor and needy praise thy name. ²² Arise, O Elohim, plead thine own cause: remember how the foolish man reproacheth thee daily. ²³ Forget not the voice of thine enemies: the tumult of those that rise up against thee increaseth continually.”

The timing of this passage would concern itself with the destruction of the temple at Jerusalem, as many of the Psalms attributed to Asaph deal with the captivity of ancient Israel and Judah. This also seems to be an example of what Christ’s Second Advent might be likened to.

Adam Clarke has a cross-reference at Jer. 30:7:

“Alas! for that day is great, so that none is like it: it is even the time of Jacob’s trouble; but he shall be saved out of it.”

At the head of Jeremiah chapter 30, Clarke makes the following observation in part: “This and the following chapter must relate to a still future restoration of the posterity of Jacob from their several dispersions, as no deliverance hitherto afforded them comes up to the terms of it; for, after the return from Babylon, they were again enslaved by the Greeks and Romans, contrary to the predictions of the eighth verse ....” Therefore, this is likely to happen near the time of Christ’s Second Advent.[Clarke also confused the Edomite-jews with true Judah and Israel.]

A center-reference from the KJV guides us to Joel 2:11, 31:

“¹¹ And Yahweh shall utter his voice before his army: for his camp is very great: for he is strong that executeth his word: for the day of Yahweh is great and very terrible; and who can abide it? ... ³¹ The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and the terrible day of Yahweh come.”

Joel chapter 2 is somewhat difficult to understand due to its metaphorical language. Jamieson, Fausset and Brown in their 6-volume Commentary (although they too confuse the Edomite-jews with the true Israelite tribe of Judah), described Joel chapter 2 thusly, vol. 4, p. 515:

“CHAP. II. 1-32 – The Coming Judgmenta Motiveto Repentance – Promiseof Blessingsin the Last Days – A more terrific judgment than that of the locusts, foretold under imagery drawn from that of the calamity then engrossing the afflicted nation ....” So if one can translate the metaphorical language of Joel 2:1-32 into the literal, one will better grasp the meaning of the chapter. And, yes, it does refer to the latter days just before the Second Advent of Yahshua Christ!

Adam Clarke has a cross-reference to Matt. 24:21:

“For then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be.”

Jamieson, Fausset and Brown in their 6-volume Commentary (although they confuse the Edomite-jews with the true Israelite tribe of Judah), they describe Matt. Chapter 24, in vol. 5, pp. 133-134 thusly:

“CHAP. XXIV. 1-51. – Christ’s Prophecyof the Destructionof Jerusalem, and Warnings Suggestedby it to Preparefor His Second Coming. (= Mark xiii. 1-37; Luke xxi. 5-36.) ....”

Mark 13:1-37: “¹ And as he went out of the temple, one of his disciples saith unto him, Master, see what manner of stones and what buildings are here! ² And Yahshua answering said unto him, Seest thou these great buildings? there shall not be left one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down. ³ And as he sat upon the mount of Olives over against the temple, Peter and James and John and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴ Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign when all these things shall be fulfilled? ⁵ And Yahshua answering them began to say, Take heed lest any man deceive you: ⁶ For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many. ⁷ And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for such things must needs be; but the end shall not be yet. ⁸ For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the beginnings of sorrows. ⁹ But take heed to yourselves: for they shall deliver you up to councils; and in the synagogues ye shall be beaten: and ye shall be brought before rulers and kings for my sake, for a testimony against them. ¹⁰ And the gospel must first be published among all [White Israelite] nations. ¹¹ But when they shall lead you, and deliver you up, take no thought beforehand what ye shall speak, neither do ye premeditate: but whatsoever shall be given you in that hour, that speak ye: for it is not ye that speak, but the Holy Ghost. ¹² Now the brother shall betray the brother to death, and the father the son; and children shall rise up against their parents, and shall cause them to be put to death. ¹³ And ye shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake: but he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved. ¹⁴ But when ye shall see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing where it ought not, (let him that readeth understand,) then let them that be in Judaea flee to the mountains: ¹⁵ And let him that is on the housetop not go down into the house, neither enter therein, to take any thing out of his house: ¹⁶ And let him that is in the field not turn back again for to take up his garment. ¹⁷ But woe to them that are with child, and to them that give suck in those days! ¹⁸ And pray ye that your flight be not in the winter. ¹⁹ For in those days shall be affliction, such as was not from the beginning of the creation which God created unto this time, neither shall be. ²⁰ And except that Yahweh had shortened those days, no flesh should be saved: but for the elect’s sake, whom he hath chosen, he hath shortened the days. ²¹ And then if any man shall say to you, Lo, here is Christ; or, lo, he is there; believe him not: ²² For false Christs and false prophets shall rise, and shall shew signs and wonders, to seduce, if it were possible, even the elect. ²³ But take ye heed: behold, I have foretold you all things. ²⁴ But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, ²⁵ And the stars of heaven [entities in positions of authority] shall fall, and the powers that are in heaven shall be shaken. ²⁶ And then shall they see the Son of man coming in the clouds with great power and glory. ²⁷ And then shall he send his angels, and shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from the uttermost part of the earth to the uttermost part of heaven. ²⁸ Now learn a parable of the fig tree; When her branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves, ye know that summer is near: ²⁹ So ye in like manner, when ye shall see these things come to pass, know that it is nigh, even at the doors. ³⁰ Verily I say unto you, that this generation shall not pass, till all these things be done. ³¹ Heaven and earth shall pass away: but my words shall not pass away. ³² But of that day and that hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels which are in heaven, neither the Son, but the Father. ³³ Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. ³⁴For the Son of man is as a man taking a far journey, who left his house, and gave authority to his servants, and to every man his work, and commanded the porter to watch. ³⁵ Watch ye therefore: for ye know not when the master of the house cometh, at even, or at midnight, or at the cockcrowing, or in the morning: ³⁶ Lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. ³⁷ And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.”

Luke 21:5-36: “... ⁵ And as some spake of the temple, how it was adorned with goodly stones and gifts, he said, ⁶As for these things which ye behold, the days will come, in the which there shall not be left one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down. ⁷ And they asked him, saying, Master, but when shall these things be? and what sign will there be when these things shall come to pass? ⁸ And he said, Take heed that ye be not deceived: for many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and the time draweth near: go ye not therefore after them. ⁹ But when ye shall hear of wars and commotions, be not terrified: for these things must first come to pass; but the end is not by and by. ¹⁰ Then said he unto them, Nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: ¹¹ And great earthquakes shall be in divers places, and famines, and pestilences; and fearful sights and great signs shall there be from heaven. ¹² But before all these, they shall lay their hands on you, and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues, and into prisons, being brought before kings and rulers for my name’s sake. ¹³ And it shall turn to you for a testimony. ¹⁴ Settle it therefore in your hearts, not to meditate before what ye shall answer: ¹⁵ For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist. ¹⁶ And ye shall be betrayed both by parents, and brethren, and kinsfolks, and friends; and some of you shall they cause to be put to death. ¹⁷ And ye shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake. ¹⁸ But there shall not an hair of your head perish. ¹⁹ In your patience possess ye your souls. ²⁰ And when ye shall see Jerusalem compassed with armies, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh. ²¹ Then let them which are in Judaea flee to the mountains; and let them which are in the midst of it depart out; and let not them that are in the countries enter thereinto. ²² For these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled. ²³ But woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck, in those days! for there shall be great distress in the land, and wrath upon this people. ²⁴ And they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away captive into all nations [i.e., ethnos¹⁴⁸⁴]: and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Ethnos¹⁴⁸⁴, until the times of the Ethnos¹⁴⁸⁴ be fulfilled. ²⁵ And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring; ²⁶ Men’s hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken. ²⁷ And then shall they see the Son of man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. ²⁸ And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh. ²⁹ And he spake to them a parable; Behold the fig tree, and all the trees; ³⁰ When they now shoot forth, ye see and know of your own selves that summer is now nigh at hand. ³¹ So likewise ye, when ye see these things come to pass, know ye that the kingdom of God is nigh at hand. ³² Verily I say unto you, This generation shall not pass away, till all be fulfilled. ³³ Heaven and earth shall pass away: but my words shall not pass away. ³⁴ And take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares. ³⁵ For as a snare shall it come on all them that dwell on the face of the whole earth. ³⁶ Watch ye therefore, and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man ....”

Adam Clarke has a cross-reference to Rev. 16:18:

“And there were voices, and thunders, and lightnings; and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since men were upon the earth, so mighty an earthquake, and so great.”

It is impossible to get the context of this verse unless we read vv. 17 through 20 thusly: “¹⁷ And the seventh angel poured out his vial into the air; and there came a great voice out of the temple of heaven, from the throne, saying, It is done. ¹⁸ And there were voices, and thunders, and lightnings; and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since men were upon the earth, so mighty an earthquake, and so great. ¹⁹ And the great city was divided into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell: and great Babylon came in remembrance before God, to give unto her the cup of the wine of the fierceness of his wrath. ²⁰ And every island fled away, and the mountains were not found.”

This is a difficult passage to interpret, as it hasn’t happened yet. I am not a prophet, nor do I pretend to be one, but here is my educated conjecture. This is evidently a social earthquake, with the three parts of the great city being the monetary, political and religious subdivisions of this evil system. If this interpretation is correct, these three estates will be forever demolished beyond reclamation. What the society will be like without them is anyone’s guess. After a jubilee, with everyone’s debts canceled, what a relief that will be never to go in debt again, forever!

Adam Clarke has a cross-reference to Rom. 11:25-26:

“²⁵ For I would not, brethren, that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the nations be come in. ²⁶ And so all [the] Israel [nations] shall be saved: as it is written, There shall come out of Sion the Deliverer, and shall turn away [the] un-Yahweh-likeness from Jacob ...”

There is probably no other passage in all of Scripture that causes more misunderstanding and confusion than this one! The reason lies in the use of the Latin term, “Gentile” (i.e., gentilis), used by Jerome when he made his translation of the Bible from their original languages into Latin. Jerome wasn’t wrong, as originally “gentilis” meant “of the same clan or race”. However, over a few hundred years, the meaning was corrupted to mean “non-jew”, which the apostle Paul never uttered, but rather used the Greek term “ethnos” meaning “nations”. At this point I would invite the reader to check with several Biblical commentaries on Rom. 11:25-26, and take notice how the various authors stumble over the Edomite-jews as if they were of the Israelite tribe of Judah, which they are NOT! They try to walk a tight rope between personal salvation and Covenant theology, and they continually fall into a ditch of their own making. I will now take an excerpt from my essay, Misapplication Of The Biblical Term “Gentile”:

Following Jerome’s example, the later English translators chose the Latin gentilis, “gentile”, for their translations in place the original Greek word ἔθνοѕ (ethnos) because Jerome, when he made the Latin Vulgate, used the word gentilis to translate the Greek ἔθνοѕ into Latin. In other words, Paul was sent to the people of his own ethnicity. How, where or when the term “gentile” first took on the corrupted meaning of “non-Jew” cannot be definitely determined, but that was NOT the original meaning in Latin! Nor is the word “gentile” found in any of the Hebrew, Aramaic or Greek manuscripts! Paul never uttered or wrote the word “gentiles”! Rather, Paul used only the Greek word та̀ ἔθνη “the nations”, and knew that he was going to those same nations found at Genesis 17:6 and 35:11. To use the term “gentile” in an improper manner only exposes that person’s lack of intelligence!

Today, the Latin term “gentile” has become so corrupted that it no longer denotes its original meaning. What is even worse, hardly any Biblical lexicon, dictionary or commentary helps to clear up the confusion concerning the use of the word. The best source that I have found to clear up the matter is The American Heritage Dictionary Of The English Language, William Morris, editor, published by Houghton Miffin Company, ©1976, and even this source leaves some things to be desired. Much confusion is caused as a result of all of this. First of all, The American Heritage Dictionary describes “gentile” both as an adjective and a noun. As an adjective, it is described in part:

“gen•tile (jĕn´tĭl, -tīl) adj.1. Of or pertaining to the gens or to the tribal society based on it. ... –n 1. A number of a gens. ... [Latin gentilis, from gēns, clan gens.]”

In order to fully understand this definition, we must next refer to “gens” in this same dictionary:

“gens (jĕnz) n., pl. gentes (jĕn´tēz´). 1. The particular clan forming the basic unit of the Roman tribe and having originally a common name, land, cult, and burial ground. 2. Anthropology. An exogamous patrilinear clan. [Latingēns, clan. See gene- in Appendix.*]”

Again, in order to understand the “gens” connection, we must go to the appendix on gene- in part:

“gene-. Also gen-. To give birth, beget; with derivatives referring to aspects and results of procreation and to familial and tribal groups. ...”

It should be clear here that the term “gentile” is a Latin term used among the Romans to designate certain racial privileges and rights based on race! Therefore, this would have been the meaning of the term “gentile” near the end of the 4th century A.D. when Jerome compiled his Vulgate translation of the Bible, and as one can plainly see, this definition had no affinity to a meaning of “non-Jew”. Later, during the Middle English period (1150-1475 A.D.), according to The American Heritage Dictionary, the capitalized term “Gentile” was changed from an adjective to a noun with a corrupted meaning thusly:

“Gen•tile (jĕn´tīl) n. 1. Anyonewho is not of the Jewish faith or is of a non-Jewish nation. 2. A Christian as distinguished from a Jew. 3. A pagan or heathen. 4. Among Mormons, a person who is not a Mormon. –adj. Of or relating to a Gentile. [Middle English gentile, gentyle, from Late Latin gentīles, pagans, heathens, from gentîlis, pagan, from Latin, of the same clan, from gēns, clan gens.]”

It is very important here that we notice that The American Heritage Dictionary specifies under Late Latin (150-700 A.D. – Jerome living in the 4th century) that “gentile” essentially held its original meaning of “... the same clan, from gens, clan gens ...” So the meaning of “gentile” all boils down to which time period, whether Late Latin or Middle English is considered! It makes a lot of difference! Therefore, it is evident that sometime after Jerome’s translation, the meaning had changed 180°. [End of excerpt from my Misapplication Of The Biblical Term “Gentile”].

For those who are familiar with the story of Daniel, knowthat Yahweh sent Gabriel to Daniel so the angel could explain to Daniel the vision he was given, Daniel 8:16: “And I heard a man’s voice between the banks of Ulai, which called, and said, Gabriel, make this man to understand the vision.”

But here I would like to go further in detail on this story. The next step in this episode was that Gabriel had difficulty in getting to Daniel to explain his vision, and another archangel, Michael (the same Michael we read about at Rev. 12:7), had to come to Gabriel’s aid. We read about Gabriel’s detainment at Dan. 10:13:

“But the prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me one and twenty days: but, lo, Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me; and I remained there with the kings of Persia.”

The four parties here are: Daniel, Gabriel, Michael and “the prince of the kingdom of Persia”. It is quite apparent, here, that “the prince of the kingdom of Persia” was interfering with the movement of Gabriel on his way to show Daniel the significance of his vision. Surely, when it speaks here of “the prince of the kingdom of Persia”, it is not referring to Cyrus king of Persia, for Cyrus being a mere man could not have blocked the way of an archangel! So “the prince of the kingdom of Persia” could only have been another angel trying to block Gabriel from fulfilling his mission; and doing so only shows that “the prince of the kingdom of Persia” was in league with Satan. Is not Michael and Gabriel warring against the prince of the kingdom of Persia, the same ratio of 2/3rds against 1/3rd at Rev. 12:4?

This clearly shows that Persia, though a White Adamic empire, had been turned over to Satan. Some people might not like to hear such a thing, but the twelve tribes of Israel, upon being divorced from Yahweh, were also turned over to Satan for seven times (or 2520 years). This can be verified at 2 Cor. 4:4:

“In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.” This passage is directed to “them that are lost” (v.3), and it was only the twelve tribes of Israel that had ever been lost. A second passage that will confirm this is found at Acts 26:18, in red letters:

“To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me.” This verse should make it unmistakably apparent that Paul was not commissioned to go to some non-Israelites whom many errantly term “Gentiles” (a Latin term that Paul never, ever used)!

Today the meaning of the Latin term gentilis (Gentile) has been totally corrupted, for the original Latin never had the definition of “non-jew”. Rather, it meant being of the same race or tribe, from a root word “gens” meaning “nation”. And Paul never took the Gospel to any alien nations!

Paul makes it very clear at 1 Corinthians 11:1: “Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ.” So don’t ever accuse Paul of starting a new religion! And inasmuch as Yahshua Christ Himself said at Matthew 15:24: “But he answered and said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel”, so neither did Paul go to anyone other than “the lost sheep of the house of Israel”, or he could never have made such a statement as he did at 1 Corinthians 11:1!

When Paul’s own words are properly translated and understood at 2 Corinthians 6:14, it is ridiculous to ever say that he went to non-Israelites. The KJV translates it: “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? ...” William Finck in his Letters of Paul has a better rendering: “Do not become yoked together with untrustworthy aliens; for what participation has justice and lawlessness?”

So here Paul is warning us to have nothing to do with aliens (or those of unlike race). Therefore, since Paul has cautioned us to totally avoid aliens, it is absurd to claim that Paul himself went to non-Israelites!

We must next determine why White Adamic peoples can be, and are, turned over to Satan, (and the non-Adamic are already of satanic origin, and categorically different).

The first passage that addresses this is found at 1 Cor. 5:4-5: “⁴ In the name of our Prince Yahshua Christ, when ye are gathered together, and my spirit, with the power of our Prince Yahshua Christ, ⁵ To deliver such an one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Prince Yahshua.”

If you have some man in the family (or woman as far as that goes), next-of-kin or by marriage, and who after taking marriage vows still wants to run after the opposite sex, and he can’t keep a padlock on his private parts (or some single man who would humble his mother, or even his mother-in-law), Paul instructs Christians to turn such a one over to Satan in the name of Yahshua so that person will either straighten up, or find himself physically impaired, or not live very long. Paul himself made such a request at Galatians 5:11-12:

“¹¹ And I, brethren, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet suffer persecution? then is the offence of the cross ceased. ¹² I would they were even cut off which trouble you.” To be “cut off” here means literally for Yahweh to turn them over to Satan, and if necessary kill them. And circumcision in this passage wasn’t the only issue, as it speaks of “leaven” at v. 9, which would include any kind of false doctrine. No-Satan theology is a false doctrine, and those promoting it can also be turned over to Satan for their correction or destruction! The same thing goes for all those who deny and repress the teaching of the two seeds at Genesis 3:15. This should not be considered some petty infraction or minor violation!

Another passage which addresses a similar kind of matter is found at 1 Timothy 1:20: “Of whom is Hymenaeus and Alexander; whom I have delivered unto Satan, that they may learn not to blaspheme.” If you don’t think that this includes teaching false doctrine, check v. 4. Paul spells it all out here in verses 9 & 10, “disobedient, murderers of fathers or mothers, manslayers, whoremongers, homosexuals, kidnappers, liars, perjurers” or “any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine”. Paul himself admitted that he had formerly been a blasphemer and deserved what he petitioned for Hymenaeus and Alexander at v. 20, but Paul thanked Yahshua at v. 13 for His “mercy” because he had done it “ignorantly in unbelief”. Apparently, Hymenaeus and Alexander knowingly blasphemed.

We started this discussion with the subjects of the coming resurrections and judgments, and our deliberation has intersected several other important topics along the way. As a matter of fact, once Christ returns at His Second Advent, there will be so many events happening that it will keep us busy for at least two thousand years. For one thing, inasmuch as our history is quite abbreviated in our Bibles, a 7,500 year survey will have to be taken to fill in all of the vacant periods. I can’t imagine how many volumes that will fill. After we have accomplished all of that, then we will have to take the time to become personally acquainted with each person and family who had lived during that 7,500 years. When I speak of getting personally acquainted with each an every White Adamic person and family, I mean we will know them so well that we will become aware of all of their various idiosyncrasies. Just imagine all of the family reunions we will have to attend, on both sides of our families, all the way back to Adam and Eve. In considering all of these activities, I am sure I have only chipped the tip of the iceberg of the activities we will be engaged in. But however long it takes to accomplish all of these lists of events, we will not want for time to complete them!

This is my two hundred and third monthly teaching letter and continues my seventeenth year of publication. Since WTL #137, I have been continuing a series entitled The Greatest Love Story Ever Told, and have been expanding on its seven stages ever since: (1) the courtship, (2) the marriage, (3) the honeymoon, (4) the estrangement, (5) the divorce, (6) the reconciliation, and (7) the remarriage.

At this juncture, I have decided to discontinue this series, The Greatest Love Story Ever Told, and give the reader some of the background of my personal life instead, as “the marriage supper of the Lamb” (Rev. 19:9) might lead to a lot of unnecessary conjecture.

It is my desire here to witness to how my eyes became opened to the message of Christian Israelite Identity. Since learning that my origins are from Abraham, Isaac, Jacob (renamed Israel), and predominantly of the tribe of Judah, I came to the realization that I was born blind to my inheritance, and now find myself in a community of several White Israelite nations who are likewise blind to their Christian Israelite Identity. I have become aware that when any White mixes their genetics with a nonwhite alien, the half-breed child from that union is the unforgivable sin, and must be severed from the pure White members of that family! (See, e.g., Ezra 9 and 10 and Neh. 10.)

My first memories are when I was about three years old. As I was born in 1927, the Great Depression of 1929 was under way for about a year. What I have been told by the various members of my family is that my father had a good job at the Union Carbide Company in Fostoria, Ohio, and had he not quit that job, after being encouraged by my grandfather Keiser to be hired out to a contractor building houses, my father would have had at least a three-day-a-week job with the Union Carbide Company during the Depression. As it was, my father had to work at some not-so-pleasant, low-paid tasks whenever or however he might find one, as the construction business had gone to hell.

Anyway, at the age of about three, I found myself with my father, mother and sister living out in the middle of the country in Perry Township, and my father was picking tomatoes. He was a general farm hand for a truck farmer by the name of Peeler. We lived in what had formerly been an abandoned house about 1/3rd mile back a dead-end mud road with a small running ditch running along side of the road. There was an old barn, but no one ever seemed to use it. Somehow my father begged, borrowed or bought a milk-cow, so we did at least have some milk to go along with the salvageable tomatoes. Have you ever eaten green fried tomatoes, or fried corn mush (the Great Depression foods)? I remember that I spent most of my days walking up and down that mud road, and I don’t recall of there being any traffic. One job that my mother had me do was search around the grounds and barnyard for some thoroughly dry wooden sticks. She needed them to start a fire in her old fashioned kitchen range. She would crumple up a few sheets of paper; place some of the dry sticks on top of the paper, and then either a chunk of coal or a piece of pre-split, dry fire wood on top of the sticks so she could start cooking the evening meal. In the winter time, the fire in the kitchen range was burning all day, to keep that end of the house warm. In addition, there was always a large oval, copper reservoir holding about 2½ gallons of water for general washing of dishes, clothing or personal cleansing. After washing the dishes, the dish water was thrown out in the garden area.

Before living at the end of that mud road, I have a slight memory of somewhere in the country where my father had a job on a ditching gang. I remember for a short while living in a movable cabin on wagon wheels, but I cannot remember who did the cooking or how the other necessities of life were taken care of, but I do recall the shape of the wagon wheels, and the wagon’s tongue. I relate this incident only to give the reader an idea of some of the jobs one had to take just to keep food on the table at that time.

After living at the end of that mud road for a couple of years, our family had the opportunity to move to another farmhouse with a barn, which was a rental only, and didn’t include any farm land. By this time I was nearing five years old, and my father regained his former employment with the Union Carbide Company, probably on a three-day-a-week basis. But he still required other part time work. Whoever lived at this second farmhouse location had electrified the house with a Delco wind generator and batteries, but evidently could not keep up the expense of operation, labor, parts, and batteries. Additionally, if the wind didn’t blow for a couple of days, they would have to revert to using kerosene lamps or candles. When we moved in, the Delco system had sat idle so long the wiring, switches and electrical fixtures were useless. And like the first farmhouse, we still had an outdoor toilet, and had to hand pump our water.

By this time, my father did scrape up enough money to buy a car made in the 1920s, but other than driving it to work, we seldom traveled any distance in it, as the Great Depression was still causing great monetary distress.

I remember, when I was still five years old, in September, 1932, the Perry Center school bus stopped at our house; the driver wondering whether or not I was old enough to enter the first grade. I can recall my mother calling out to him, informing him I was only five, and that he should stop around the next year, in 1933. Well, September 1933 finally rolled around, and I found myself on the school bus, ready for the first grade. The first thing I knew, they issued me a reading book, and it wasn’t a McGuffey’s Reader! We weren’t very far into the book, where there was a story about a “Little Black Sambo” who lived in the Belgian Congo. I didn’t realize it then, but I found myself face to face with the major race problem of our day. Even then, the story was distasteful and disturbing to my spirit. This began a series of things in my life that seemed to be pointing me toward the ministry I’m doing today. The question I have today is: Why is it necessary to have a black history month? It is no more necessary today to have a black history month than it was to have a first grader’s reading book in 1933 with a story entitled “Little Black Sambo” who lived in the Belgian Congo.

I remember another incident before entering the Perry Center school, when I would have been somewhere between four and five years old. Some friends and my grandmother and grandfather Keiser decided to kill and butcher a sizable hog. I remember that my grandfather got the honor of shooting the pig. The next thing I knew, there were several people in the kitchen sawing and cutting the hog up in smaller pieces. Then, some of them helping started to collect all of the fat from the critter, cutting it up into small pieces, placing it into extra large porcelain enamel cooking pots, and placing them on top of the red-hot cast-iron kitchen range for hours, to render all of the lard from the leftovers into cracklings, which some of us were eating like candy. After all of the butchering and rendering was finished, the group divided up the various portions of the pork, lard, and cracklings evenly, and after cleaning the kitchen each party departed with their share. At this point, it was necessary to find two large earthenware crocks in which to prepare a strong saltwater solution, then fully submerge the pork 100% to keep it from spoiling, by placing a large plate up-side-down on top of the pork and placing a heavy brick or large stone on top of the up-side-down plate to keep the pork fully submerged in the brine. Even a small portion of the pork left exposed to the air was enough to make one deathly sick! Then, to help keep the pork from spoiling, my parents placed the two crocks in an upstairs unheated room during the winter. Then, when my mother was planning an evening meal, she would send my three year old sister, and myself (being about five), upstairs with a container and remove the stone and the up-side-down plate, setting them aside, while fishing out enough pork for two adults and two children. Then, the up-side-down plate and stone weight were returned on top of the pork, and most important of all, making sure all of the remaining pork in the crock was fully and safely submerged in the brine. Looking back at this, it frightens me to even think about it!

But this was not the only way we had for preserving food, other than canning (if one can consider pork as food, which it is not). I can remember my father building a box, covering it with hardware cloth, and securing it just outside of one of our windows. Then, when the weather got cold enough, all we had to do is raise the window and place the leftover food or milk in the box, and then lower the window back down and we had an energy-free refrigerator, or if the weather got below freezing, we had an energy-free deep-freeze. Back in the 1930s, a refrigerator was a toy for the super-rich, and during the Great Depression, one couldn’t afford ice for an icebox! It wasn’t until about 1936 that General Electric came out with an affordable, efficient sealed compressor unit on top of the refrigerator, that a low-wage earner could afford. However, I still remember that my grandmother and grandfather Keiser were still using a manual icebox until shortly after World War II.

Back to my first grade days at the Perry Center. Perry Center was originally a one room brick schoolhouse (which was usual at the time, teaching grades one through eight). Somewhere along the line, before my time, evidently the student body outgrew the one room, and they added a second white, wooden frame classroom for grades one through four, and grades five through eight were held in the old brick schoolroom. I attended Perry Center school throughout my first grade, and then our family moved into Fostoria, Ohio, where I started attending the second grade in the Fostoria school system in 1934.

At Perry Center, I never did get used to the teacher (though she was a very nice lady) going from one row to another, continually teaching one subject to one grade at a time. Instead of focusing on the material that was assigned to my grade, I found myself listening to what she was teaching to the other three grades. What was happening was, I was learning a lot, but not getting any credit for it. Besides, that reading book with the story entitled “Little Black Sambo”, who lived in the Belgian Congo, had other stories that bored me beyond measure. The problem was, the school curriculum and I were on two different railroad tracks.

One thing of interest did happen that I have never forgotten during my first grade experience at Perry Center. One day the teacher made an announcement to all four grades she was teaching, saying it was the oyster season, and that she was going to get some fresh oysters, and make some oyster stew and bring it to school and give all of her students a treat! Well, the day finally came, and I had no Idea what oyster stew was all about. Here were these grayish-white lumps in some highly seasoned heated milk. I really didn’t know what to do with them, so I broke one oyster open, and inside was this funny looking blackish-brown gunk, so I decided to eat the one I had broken open, and it tasted awful! Someone should have warned me that oysters need to be swallowed down whole, and never mind the oyster crackers! Strange though, all the other students thought the oysters were just fine! So now you know how the average day went at Perry Center school. However, we moved, again, into the city of Fostoria, Ohio, and that meant going to a new school.

Finally, September 1934 arrived and I was entering the second grade at a school on the corner of Columbus Avenue and Town streets, as we moved into a house on Town street across from the Union Carbide Company where my father was re-employed. Most people called the Union Carbide Company “the Carbon Works”, as when the day shift was being dismissed, hundreds of men filed out as black as niggers, as they had no showers for them in those days to wash the carbon off. All the women were simply delighted at this, as not only was she responsible for having a hot meal ready for her husband, but her husband walked into the house leaving a black soot trail, and when the husband took his carbon soiled clothes off, this meant that before she served the evening meal, she had to start the old fashioned wringer type of washing machine, and clean up the bath room after her carbon soiled husband left black marks all over the bathtub, lavatory-sink, and much of the floor and walls, let alone dirtying up a lot of towels and wash-rags. So, one can begin to comprehend what kind of a routine my mother was facing each and every evening when my father came home from work.

Not only did we have problems like this, but my second grade in the Fostoria, Ohio school system turned out to be a disaster. During the 1934-1935 school year we had one epidemic after another from September until the end of May. To name a few: there were the measles, mumps, chicken pox, chronic whooping-cough, scarlet fever, and other serious maladies in lesser numbers. All of these maladies spread over Fostoria in epidemic force. We didn’t have a single epidemic on our hands, but six serious epidemics marauding our area at the same time. However, Fostoria was not inexperienced with epidemics, as the influenza epidemic that struck just after WW I, left many dead in Fostoria. I can remember my grandmother Keiser relating how in her block alone, there was a corpse on view in every house in that block. Having experienced something like this before, the city officials took drastic action. They enacted severe regulations for quarantining all of the infected indoors, and keeping out all of the uninfected. All I know is someone, somewhere got busy and made up a large number of bright red signs about two feet by four feet with the name of the disease, and a caution notice forbidding anyone to enter an infected house, under severe punishment.

Here is an example of how the quarantine worked: About three weeks after school started, my two-year younger sister got sick with what I believe was the measles, and that barred me from leaving or re-entering my house. So here is an example of how, because my sister was sick with the measles, while I being well, could not attend my second grade classes until my sister had recovered from her illness. Well, shortly after this, I got sick with one of the six mentioned epidemics. So between my sister’s illness and my own, I had missed six to seven weeks of my second grade classes. This kept occurring between my sister and I over and over, with one disease or another all school-year long. As a result (and I have never come to an exact account of the days lost), I surely didn’t attend more than 25 to 30% of my second grade class-days. The school teacher did, though, keep sending me assignments, to read such and such pages, and then answer a few questions. If I, as a second grader, would have had someone to oversee my progress, I might have succeeded a little better, but I didn’t, and the assignments never got done. The teacher probably thought she was doing me a favor by passing me to the third grade, but she couldn’t have been more wrong!

After this, I found myself ready for my summer vacation between the second and third grades, and my memory is a bit fuzzy from June to December, 1935. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there had been some trouble brewing between my father and mother for some time, but as an eight year old boy, I couldn’t detect it. But as a 87 year old man, I now understand a lot of strange things were happening. Early in the summer of 1935, someone had obtained a Ford trimotor airplane and made arrangements with some farmer at the edge of town to use one of his fields for a runway and a parking area for clients who wanted an airplane ride. Asking someone why that airplane was flying overhead, I was informed they were flying sightseers who paid for a ride over town. When I was growing up, I dearly loved airplanes, but it was a rare thing to sight one. I knew the family was short on money, and my chances of getting a ride on that plane were almost nil. However, one day that summer I found myself in an automobile with my grandfather Keiser and my uncle, Merrill Keiser, heading for the farmer’s field. Before I knew it, we had boarded the Ford trimotor airplane and we were bumping across the field, and then suddenly everything became smooth as we became airborne.

Somewhat later that same summer, I found myself living with my grandfather and grandmother Keiser, along with my uncles Merrill and Lowell. Suddenly, I did not see or hear anything of my father or mother, and my younger sister was also absent. It seemed as though all three of them had simply disappeared into thin air.

I do have one item in my possession which documents where I was in the month of December, 1935. It seems that my uncle Merrill Keiser thought I needed a Bible for Christmas, and he evidently stopped into a Five and Dime store to get me one (or he might have gotten it from the American Bible Society). Although the print is quite small, there is no text missing in either the Old or New Testaments. Inside the front cover, my uncle Merrill wrote: “To Clifton Art from his uncle Merrill for Christmas, 1935.”

Upon receiving this Bible, I could not understand why my uncle Merrill would want to give me such a thing, for in my short life of eight years, I could not remember one time when my father or mother attended a church or spoke of Biblical things. I thought to myself, ‘well here’s this Bible, what am I going to do with it?’ After considering this, I decided to start reading the end of the book to see how everything turns out. After fumbling the Bible around for a little while, I finally managed accidentally to open it at Revelation chapter 12, and all the words seemed so large it frightened me. By this time, though, I had learned to read slowly, very carefully sounding out each word syllable by syllable.

The first verse seemed to be talking about some strange woman having twelve stars over her head. Then there was the very large word, “travailing”, whatever that meant or however it was pronounced. (One must remember, I was only eight years old, going on nine.) I could make out that it had something to do with a child of some kind. Then things really got complicated as it started to speak of “a great red dragon” with a disproportionate number of horns and crowns. Then in verse four, somehow this dragon uses his tail to drag one third of the stars out of heaven to persecute the woman’s child (whatever that means). These were terrible things to imagine in the mind of an eight year old boy! Then, it speaks of someone by the name of “Michael” (whoever he is), who is going to get in a war with some terrible creatures: “old serpent”, “the Devil” and “Satan”!

Although I didn’t understand what I was reading at that time, this passage would become the main theme of my writing for the last seventeen years. Had I done well in school, I would have been brainwashed by our educational system, and may never have come to the light of our Christian Israelite Identity Message! As a result of missing most of the second grade, I had to do the third grade twice and the forth grade twice.

Well, getting back to the time I spent living with my grandfather and grandmother Keiser, and my two Keiser uncles. Things were changing for the better concerning my parents. I only know these things because I have been able to pick up bits and pieces of the story over the years. There was a minister in Fostoria at the Evangelical Church who, along with his wife, took interest in the situation with my parents. I don’t know just what the original problem was, nor how the problem was resolved, but what I do know is one Sunday morning someone in the Keiser household got me up early and dressed me up to go to church. The church was about three blocks away, and my uncle Merrill walked me over to the church and introduced me to someone in charge of the children’s Sunday School, which had already started. This lady took me down to the basement and placed me with the group that would be my class. But before we went to our classrooms, the children’s assembly sang the first song I ever heard in any church! The song was entitled, “Jesus Loves All The Children”, and the words go like this: “Jesus loves all the children, All the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they’re all precious in His sight, Jesus loves all the children of the world.”

After a period of about 40 years since I first heard this song, Yahweh finally turned the light of the Christian Israel Message on for me, and I came to the realization that this song promoted a damnable lie, although I am sure that Karl Marx and Ivan Pavlov (aka, Petrovich) would have been very happy with it! I didn’t know it at the time, but years later I realized that Yahweh was preparing me for the ministry I have today. But as it turned out, that church as a whole became both a curse and a blessing to me in more than one way! Although I never remember either of my parents or sister ever going to church before this, all at once we were attending church every time the doors were open!

Suddenly, and I don’t remember all of the details, I found myself living with the other members of my family at 521 College Avenue in Fostoria. In the next three or four years we started moving to various locations in Fostoria. That meant that nearly every time we moved, I was assigned to a different school, and my education was literally shoved from pillar to post! Actually, no two Fostoria grade schools had the same curriculum or the same text books. Here I was, trying to catch up for what I had missed in the second grade, but all I was getting was a mass of confusion thrown at me. In the four years where I repeated both the third and fourth grades, I had an assortment of teachers; two very good; some average; and some not so good.

During my first shot at the fourth grade I had less than a favorable situation. On the first day of the school-year, this teacher divided the girls from the boys. She placed most of the girls on the north side of the room, and the boys on the south. And when she would start teaching a particular subject, she would stand in front of the rows of the girls. After presenting the lesson, she would then walk up and down the rows between the girls to check on how each girl was progressing with the assigned paperwork, and when one of the girls was having difficulty, she would stop at her desk and personally walk the girl through the assignment so the girl could arrive at the right answer. The teacher did this repeatedly, girl after girl. The teacher appeared like a mother hen hovering over her female chicks. As for the boys, they got little or no attention at all. Looking back, it appeared to me she was selecting the girls who had parents in high positions in Churches, service clubs, thriving business families, and popular political figures. As for the boys, she simply ignored us.

Before this, in my second shot at the third grade, I had a very good lady by the name of “Longacre” for my teacher. The school-year didn’t get off to a roaring start, but after a few weeks I got the teacher’s attention. One day during a class, she had a very important premise she wanted every single pupil in her class to understand, bar none! I don’t remember what her question was about anymore, but I had the correct answer. So she started systematically going down the far left row, starting with the pupil at the first desk, and was determined to ask every single pupil in the room until she got the correct answer. Time and time again the students failed to answer it correctly. After a few students failed to answer, the succeeding students simply answered “I don’t know?” After about twenty tries, she arrived at my desk, and I gave her the correct answer. She seemed shocked at first, as I, of all her students, would know the answer. She then went into a long orientation to the other students of just why they should have known the answer, and said to them: “If everyone told you the moon was made out of green cheese, you would believe that also!” From that time on, Teacher Longacre took more interest in my progress, and gave me more help where I needed it.

In my second go-round of the fourth grade, I got the best teacher that ever came my way. She had a way of drilling the class like no other teacher I have ever experienced. Somewhere in the second semester, she announced to the class we were going to have an Iowa Test coming up soon. At that time the Iowa Test set the standard for the nation, and she was going to see to it that her fourth grade class was going to score high in the ratings. So she set the greater part of our regular studies aside for what seemed like about six weeks, and we were drilled from morning until the P.M. school closing time. She had a way of identifying any student that was falling behind, and she would take measures to bring that student up-to-speed. She also had the ability to spot any student who hadn’t studied certain material before and plug up that hole. She had a pretty good idea of the various questions the Iowa Test would cover, but she had to be prepared for a certain amount the Iowa Test might add to their list. So it was drill, drill, drill, throughout the school day, and day after day, and week after week. She gave us sample Iowa Tests, and analyzed the results to re-ask the questions that had been asked on previous sample Iowa Tests. I probably learned more preparing for that Iowa Test than all of the time I had spent in grade school up until that time. My only regret is, I don’t remember the teacher’s name! But for me, she was an angel sent from heaven! Finally, the Iowa Test day had come, and a several page questionnaire was placed on each student’s desk, and it was time to give the Iowa Test our best shot.

Very soon I began to realize the questions were quite easy, as our drill sessions were paying off big-time, as the Iowa Test felt quite comfortable and I believe I was making a high score on them, but I don’t believe they published any grades for the pupils taking them. Worse yet, the Iowa Test didn’t show up on the student’s grade card! This 2nd redo of the fourth grade finished up my 1938-1939 school-year, but this wasn’t the end of the problems with my education by a long way. Yes, my parents decided to move again; this time back into the Perry Center school district. As I had to redo grades three and four, I found myself in the same grade with my sister. One can see that although my parents did start attending church regularly, and demanded my sister and I attend every meeting with them, our education could go to hell, as neither my father nor my mother themselves went beyond the eighth grade (and maybe not even that far), I was born April 15, 1927, when my mother was 16 years old. So she must have gotten pregnant with me around the July-August period of 1926, at 15 years old. So she is kind of like a sixth grade mother having sixth grade children. The only one who took an interest in my education was my grandmother Keiser, and she was restricted by her own limited education. One year where it was evident that I needed help, my grandfather and grandmother offered me grandpa’s like new, well taken care of bicycle. Well, that gave me the incentive I needed, and I did bring up my grades so I could pass that year. After passing my tests to advance to the next grade, I received grandpa’s bicycle. And because my mother had always preferred girls over boys, it wasn’t long until my parents purchased her a brand spanking new girls bicycle. My mother had gotten sidetracked somewhere along the line, for she had read the book, The Melting Pot, written by one Edomite-jew, Israel Zangwill, who falsely taught that all White, Caucasian, European, Americans were of mixed race, and my mother believed him strongly! As I recall it, it was my sister who asked my mother, “What race are we?” with my mother citing The Melting Pot, which I found out nearly forty years later was written by the Edomite-jew, Zangwill. It was less than a two minute conversation between my sister and my mother, without me saying a word. But that conversation lodged in my brain, and I have never forgotten it. As a matter of fact, I have the bad habit (blessing / curse) of remembering things of this nature. The cover of The Melting Pot is posted at my website.

Sometimes it amazes me how my mind can capture a couple or three words, passing like a shadow in the dark, and then recapture them forty years later, almost word for word, and remember from where I was standing in the kitchen of the house we moved into on the then U.S. route 23, about three quarters of a mile northwest of the city limits of Fostoria, Ohio. I remember well where my mother was standing and where I was standing, but vaguely as to where my sister was standing. But I knew that all three of us were present, and no one else was nearby.

This move back into the Perry Center school district proved to be yet another obstacle to my learning. The teacher in the brick building accommodating grades five through eight was a man by the name of Mr. Ralph Banks. Banks was an odd appearing person, with a strong square jaw and very thick black hair. He might have passed for a white person in some circles, but he surely wasn’t an Anglo-Saxon. From what I can remember of his features, I would estimate he had a touch of Arab blood, or maybe even Jew. Banks generally did well in presenting his lessons, but at test-time he would use tricky questions in order to deceive the students into answering the questions incorrectly. I don’t know what kind of euphoric feeling he got by doing that, but he seemed maniacal in doing it, and his ecstasy would show up on the students’ grade cards as a lowered grade.

This type of thing continued on until the 1941-1942 school-year. What always happens, when the teacher is playing the game of asking trick questions, is that the class will always start to compare answers. This happened to the row of students in the seventh grade, including my sister and I, along with the others in the seventh grade row. Banks discovered this and accused the entire seventh grade of cheating. How my parents finally got the news of this, I don’t fully remember, but when they did, they were as mad as hell. At the time my grandparents were still living within the Fostoria, Ohio city limits, so my parents moved us in with grandfather and grandmother Keiser, officially making my sister and I their wards, and the Perry Center School district lost some of their tax allocations as a result. This move was made right in the middle of the school-year of 1941-1942. Soon after this, the entire School Board of Perry Center got together and made arrangements to join the Fostoria, Ohio School District. To this day, all the children in Perry Township are bussed into the Fostoria schools.

Actually, in the 1942-1943 school-year, the combined school districts of Perry Center and Fostoria didn’t have to purchase any school buses, other than the two they already had, as the route mileage they covered was about the same. There were two fewer schoolrooms to heat and keep up, and one less tricky teacher to pay. Today, the only building left is the white frame building which they use for a township house and other gatherings.

This is only the beginning of my strange story, and I will continue relating how my peculiar experiences eventually led me to the Christian Israel Identity Message, opening my blind eyes to the Light of Yahweh, and my life hasn’t been the same since!

My story is turning into a much larger project than I had anticipated, and before I am finished, the reader will better grasp why I am recounting it to my readers. As I go along, I keep remembering other details I should include in my narrative.

This is my two hundred and fourth monthly teaching letter and completes my seventeenth year of publication. To get started with this lesson, I will repeat a paragraph from near the end of WTL #203:

This move back into the Perry Center school district proved to be yet another obstacle to my learning. The teacher in the brick building accommodating grades five through eight was a man by the name of Mr. Ralph Banks. Banks was an odd appearing person with a strong square jaw with very thick black hair. He might have passed for a white person in some circles, but he surely wasn’t an Anglo-Saxon. From what I can remember of his features, I would estimate he had a touch of Arab blood, or maybe even a Jew. Banks generally did well in presenting his lessons, but at test-time he would use tricky questions in order to deceive the students into answering the questions incorrectly. I don’t know what kind of euphoric feeling he got by doing that, but he seemed ecstatic in doing it, and his ecstasy would show up on the students grade cards as a lowered grade.

Among my more recent evaluations of Mr. Ralph Bank’s actions is that he might have been suffering from a wee amount of egomania, caused by an inferiority complex (a fear of anyone who might appear superior, and thus be a threat to Banks’ own inferiority). If such a thing could exist, the one suffering from egomania would do everything in his power to cut his assumed competitor down in the sight of others. As the head teacher, Banks had the power of the pen, and he could write down anywhere from “A+” to “F-” at his will.

Before I get too far ahead of my story, I need to pause and take the time to explain how the public grade and high schools operated between 1920 and 1940. Earlier, most of the students attending school didn’t intend to go beyond the eighth grade. By that time the boys were needed on the farm full time, and for the girls, being about 16, it was time to think about getting married and raising a family. As a matter of fact, the Perry Center school district was still holding eighth grade graduation ceremonies (which included an eighth grade diploma), up until the 1940-1941 school-year, at a church about one mile south of the Perry Center school, with the fifth, sixth and seventh grade students invited.

About this same period, Edomite-jewish sponsored communism had infiltrated most of our colleges (especially those colleges training prospective schoolteachers), and proceeded to turn our whole educational system upside-down! The question is: Were Banks, or my other teachers, trained in such a manner? There are two books that I recommend that every researcher-writer should have in order to understand the political undercurrent that was taking place:

(1) The Red Network, by Elizabeth Dilling.

(2) Patterns Of Negro Segregation, by Charles S. Johnson, 1st edition, © 1943. (While biased, this book enlightens historical data!)

First, a quote from Patterns Of Negro Segregation, pp. 88-89:

“By 1910 Negro males were found in some numbers in 166 out of 178 industry or service groups and Negro females in 37 out of 42 groups. There had been intense competition with the foreign-born while native whites moved steadily into the upper brackets.

“By 1920, following the migrations, Negroes comprised 11 percent of the laborers in manufacturing and mechanical industries compared with only 3 per cent in 1910. Nevertheless, they remained below the foreign-born in mass occupational level; and the foreign-born, in turn, below the native whites. By 1930 the proportion of Negro unskilled workers was about double that of the foreign-born whites, and six times that of the native whites.

“Native whites were found at all occupational levels in both periods, but were relatively concentrated in the three top categories. In 1890 they dominated the professional and white-collar classes, had a relatively large proportion of proprietors and managers, and a relatively small proportion of skilled and unskilled workers. The foreign-born formed an intermediate group between the native whites and the Negroes with few professionals compared with native whites, and, compared with Negroes, less than half the proportion engaged in unskilled work. The foreign-born, however, had a larger proportion of skilled workers. Three-fourths of all boot- and shoemakers and repairers, blacksmiths and wheelwrights were foreign-born, while less than 1 per cent were Negroes. The latter were heavily concentrated in the unskilled class, with relatively fewer semiskilled workers than either the native or the foreign-born white, and negligible proportions in any higher class. The Negroes exceeded the other nativity groups in the servant classes, and the foreign-born exceeded the Negroes in the other unskilled classes.

“By 1930 the pattern had changed significantly, reflecting the experience of Negroes in occupations in northern cities. The native whites had increased their proportions in the professional and white collar classes and decreased their proportion in unskilled fields to the smallest proportion in any category except professional. They clearly had a monopoly on the preferred and status jobs. The foreign-born whites had begun to develop a professional class, continued to command the skilled and semiskilled fields, and had a sizable proportion of shopkeepers, presumably serving the requirements of their own cultural backgrounds. While the Negroes still had their largest proportions in unskilled work (both domestic service and labor), they had pushed into the skilled field and had developed their own professional class and some business; proportionately, they had almost as many semiskilled workers as the foreign-born, and over half as many white-collar workers.” – Now back to the commotion at Perry Center:

This type of activity continued on until the 1941-1942 school-year. What always happens when the teacher is playing the game of asking trick questions, the class will always start to compare answers. This happened to the row of students in the seventh grade, including my sister and I, along with the others in the seventh grade row. Banks discovered this and accused the entire seventh grade of cheating. How my parents finally got the news of this, I don’t fully remember, but when they did, they were as mad as hell. At the time my grandparents were still living within the Fostoria, Ohio city limits, so my parents moved us in with grandfather and grandmother Keiser, officially making my sister and I their wards, and the Perry Center school district lost some of their tax allocations as a result. This move was made right in the middle of the school-year of 1941-1942. Soon after this, the entire school board of Perry Center got together and made arrangements to join the Fostoria, Ohio school district. To this day, all the children in Perry Township are bussed into Fostoria schools.

Actually, in the 1942-1943 school-year, the combined school districts of Perry Center and Fostoria didn’t have to purchase any school buses, other than the two they already had, as the route mileage they covered was about the same. There were two less buildings to heat and keep up, and one less tricky teacher to pay. Today the only building left is the white frame building which they use for a township house, and other gatherings.

I did, though, learn a very important lesson at Perry Center that is still with me to this very day. One day, Banks was teaching the eighth grade row, and one of the young ladies taught teacher Banks a precept that even he was not aware of. The subject of “agriculture” came up, and this young lady informed Banks quite quickly that the word “agriculture” is based on the word “culture” and today I consider that a Biblical truism, for Adam was given the responsibility for tilling the ground. And we should really respect our Adamic farmers, as they work/ed all summer just to survive the following winter/s. And what little “culture” we still have left, we owe these hardworking people. Nearly all the farm families I knew in Perry Township were that kind of people!

I didn’t realize it at the time, but this shift from a country school to city schools; then back to the country school again, and then back to the city schools once more gave me quite an advantage in understanding the differences existing between the two groups, and how both groups were suffering under the strong financial arm the Edomite-jews had on the finances of our country, and for that matter the entire world. I will guarantee you that neither of the two groups were getting filthy rich. Both groups, in their own way, had a tough row to hoe! So again, the Almighty was preparing me for the ministry I have today. At times, I remember the city folk blaming their troubles on the farmer, and at other times the country folk blaming their difficulties on the city factory workers. The truth is: the troubles these two groups were experiencing were being engineered by the same Edonite-jew enemy!

To give the reader an idea of just how difficult things were back in the depression days, more often than not, the farmer’s wife would raise a few chickens to save up a little egg money so she could buy some patterns and a little cloth so she could sew together a dress to wear to church. Not only did she sew her own clothes, she raised a large garden, and canned enough food to keep provisions on the table the greater part of the coming winter. And whether it was in the country or city schools, the majority of younger students wore clothing their mother had made for them.

Moving back to the Perry Center school district, it did have one benefit that I hadn’t anticipated, as during the summer vacations between school-years there were times when the farmers wanted parttime help like making hay; helping during the wheat harvest and other odd jobs the farmer couldn’t find time to get around to. I even helped a couple of ladies who had a dairy and truck farm to shock some of their corn. They even let me drive their model A Ford truck around the lanes leading to the various truck patches. It was also my first chance to make a little pocket money. I was also hired out to be the water boy a few times, where the farmers went together to thresh their wheat with the old fashion threshing machines. They had one threshing machine for about 20 different farmers, and it took several weeks to get around to every farm in their association.

If one has never eaten at a thresher’s noon meal, one simply can’t understand the great food that was served buffet style. Every woman brought her best dish. If it was a cake, it wasn’t like today’s cake-mix, but she had to put the various ingredients together from scratch, and if she needed some eggs, she went out to her hen house and took some freshly laid eggs from underneath the chicken as they were being laid. One will never find any fresher eggs than that! They had every kind of meat, along with gravy, and the very best fresh and cooked vegetables to go along with it; also every kind of desert, along with hand cranked ice cream. I should point out that there were about 18 to 20 sunburned men, and after rinsing the sweat from their heads and arms with the cold water directly from the well, and cooling themselves off after half a day of extremely hard work, they dug in and ate like there might not be a tomorrow. Then, after devouring all they could hold, they went outside and rested for about a half-hour under some shade trees before returning to the fields for another grueling half day (probably near sundown).

One summer vacation, I was hired by a farmer who lived just across the road from us to carry water to the men working in the field, who were breaking down the wheat shocks and loading the sheaves onto wagons. When quite full, the wagons were pulled by the horses over alongside the threshing machine to separate the wheat from the chaff, whereupon there was a truck alongside the threshing machine to receive the grain as it was processed. There were usually eight to ten workers loading wheat sheaves onto the wagons, with a couple of men spreading them around to keep an even load. As the water boy, it was my job to ride my bicycle from the farmer’s water pump at his house, placing a glass gallon jug hanging from each handlebar, and after pumping up the colder water from deep in the well. If my grandfather and grandmother Keiser hadn’t given me that bicycle as an incentive to bring up my grades, I couldn’t have made some extra pocket change doing this. To keep the glass gallon bottles from breaking against the metal frame of my bike, I extended each handle about six inches to look like a longhorn bull, to keep a disaster from happening. Sometimes it was a long bumpy ride from the farmer’s house down the lanes to the field where the men were working. I would go from wagon to wagon lifting up the jugs, and the men would sometimes turn the jug upside-down and swallow about half of the contents. After distributing the water around to the various wagons, I picked up two other jugs to return to the house and get another batch. No sooner than I had made a round trip, the men were waiting again in the field for some more cold water. And, I would remind the reader that it was no easy job being a water boy from eight to sometimes nearly ten hours a day.

It was probably a year later that I again served as water boy for the farmer across the road from us. This time, after the thresher’s noon meal, the men assembled in the farmer’s stone driveway leading up to his barn. Suddenly, I became very interested in their conversation, for they were discussing the Chicago Board of Trade concerning the high price, at that time, that wheat was selling for. For once in about twelve years the Chicago Board of Trade were not robbing the farmers blind! At the time of harvest, wheat was selling for two dollars and ninety-six cents a bushel. One of the farmers gathered there said that he was going to hold his wheat until the price hit three dollars, but it never did. This happened during the years leading up to WW II, and we had rationing and shortages on some things in those days.

My main interest in the men’s conversation was that they spoke of the Chicago Board of Trade in connection with the Jews. This immediately was lodged into my mind, never to be forgotten. This, though, didn’t give me all the pieces of the puzzle, but it did give me enough of the story to realize that this was the same people Hitler was having trouble with. After realizing this, I began to understand that the same people who were depressing the German economy were the same people who were oppressing our country and city folk. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there was much more to the story than I could then imagine, and in time it would become the major theme of my ministry. For a while, after learning the connection between the Chicago Board of Trade and the Jews, I became a Hitler fan, and expressed what I thought to everyone I could. But my parents and grandparents and some of the people at the church where my parents attended kept hounding me that “the Jews were God’s chosen people”, and if we cursed them, we ourselves would be cursed. Over time I caved in, to a certain extent! I now realize that my first impression was the correct impression, and I was only about fifteen years old when it was revealed to me, in a conversation in which I did not take part! It wasn’t a very long conversation, maybe ten minutes at the most. Here is just one more incident that happened which was preparing me for my ministry of the last seventeen years.

After this, from time to time, I kept track of the farm market reports, and I don’t remember of one time where wheat sold over three dollars. One time the farmers did purchase and construct several small round metal storage units to force the farm prices a little higher, but they had little success in doing this. Driving in an automobile in this part of the country, one could observe nearly every farm had from three to a dozen or so of these storage buildings, but they gradually disappeared. At one time the farmers formed co-ops for holding animals until the demand pushed up the prices, but that failed as well.

SO WHY WOULD THE POWERS THAT BE PROMOTE THIS?

The Edomite-jews do want to establish themselves as the masters of the world. To be the masters, they must have slaves. They, therefore, consider all of the darker races to be too inept to make good servants, and the White middle class too adept to control and take orders from the so-called masters. So their plan is to raise the IQ of the nonwhites, while at the same time dumbing down or lowering the IQ of the middle class Whites. To do this, they, (the Edomite-jews) have entered into a program of miscegenation. You see, if the Edomite-jew can lower the living standards of the middle class Whites, while at the same time raising the living standards of the nonwhites, so both are approximately the same, the Edomite-jews hope to two merge the two races together. One would have to be as blind as a bat not to see that the Edomite-jewish plan for miscegenation is right on schedule!

WHERE WOULD BE THE STARTING POINT

TO BRING SUCH A THING ABOUT?

While there are many starting points to bring about miscegenation, there are no other more ideal places than the grade, middle and high school classrooms. All that must be done is to College train a lot of females who lean towards women’s lib. Once trained along this line (with the teacher having the power of the pen) they would naturally give all the better grades to the female students, while giving a failing grade to male students.

Another source that would be in a good position to raise the grades of some while lowering the grades of others would be the companies that specialize in writing and printing textbooks. If the object were to get the female students to do better than the male students, all that would be needed is to create stories and items of interest which harmonize with the female nature, while at the same time, making the same material very boring to their counterpart males.

Probably, the most dangerous threat to the altering of grades of male students would be from the infiltration of communism into the colleges, where students with communistic objectives would aid and assist in bringing about communistic goals. Being that communism is Edomite-jewish, the same goal of miscegenation would exist. Many college students, with secret communist leanings, upon graduation, could and were placed in several positions of power. Teachers in the public schools being one of them. Here a whole host of evil machinations were probably directed to bring about miscegenation (i.e., race mixing).

Of the White Adamic family, the female is the easiest to lead astray. Rightfully, with her body maturing somewhat sooner than the male, she is concerned about whom she shall meet and marry, as the female finds it quite disadvantageous to find an occupation to make a living wage. So in this case, wealth is a deciding factor. In the 1940’s, the computer hadn’t yet arrived, and the greatest opportunity for a graduating female was the great demand for women in the accounting field, and the women hoped for a position with a fortune five hundred company, or at a bank of high finance. Often, this kind of job led to meeting someone not of her own race, and her ending up in a mixed racial union. Many of the women graduating from high school in the 1940’s decided to go to New York to find some kind of position there, and usually never came back to Ohio. The men graduating from high school, on the other hand, ended up getting a job in a factory with little to no opportunity for advancement, or enlisted in the military. I have talked with several teachers in the area, and they would make the claim that the girls learned faster in the lower grades, but in college the men leave the women sitting in the dust in comparison. I believe the real reason that the boys were slower in the grade schools than the girls was because the people writing the text books deliberately tried to mentally sissify the boys, making it harder for them to get a good paying job when it came time for marriage. So eventually nearly all the White women went for the beasts collecting food stamps, rather than some White man working for a living.

For undeniable proof of what I am stating, we need go no further than the United States Congressional Record, Volume 103, page 8559:

At a “Jewish” conference, January 12, 1952, in Budapest, a “Jew”, Rabbi Emanuel Rabinovich, spoke before the Emergency Council of European Rabbis. The following is part of that speech which can be found in William Guy Carr’s book, Pawns In The Game, on pages 105-106.

Rabbi Emanuel Rabinovich, in his speech to the Council of European Rabbis in Budapest, Hungary, 12 January 1952, sheds light on the reality of the Edomite-jewish plot to destroy the White, Caucasian, European people by miscegenation where he stated:

“... The goal for which we have striven so concertedlyfor three thousand years is at last within our reach. I can state with assurance that the last generation of white children is now being born. Our Control Commission will in the interest of peace and wiping out interracial tensions, forbid the whites to mate with whites. The white women must cohabit with members of the dark races, the white men with black women. Thus the white race will disappear, for mixing the dark with the white means the end of the white man, and our most dangerous enemy will become only a memory. We shall embark upon an era of ten thousand years of peace and plenty, the Pax Judaica, and our race will rule undisputed over the world. Our superior intelligence will easily enable us to retain mastery over a world of dark peoples.”

Similarly, Israel Cohen, in A Racial Program for the Twentieth Century, is quoted in the United States Congressional Record, Volume 103, page 8559, as promoting the following:

“Our most powerful weapon is racial tension. By propounding into the consciousness of the dark races that for centuries they have been oppressed by the whites, we can mould them to the program of the Communist Party... While inflaming the Negro minority against the whites, we will endeavor to instill in the whites a guilt complex for their exploitation of the Negroes. We will aid the Negroes to rise in prominence in every walk of life, in the professions and in the world of sports and entertainment. With this prestige, the Negro will be able to intermarry with the whites and begin a process which will deliver America to our cause.”

With such positive evidence as this, how can anyone disclaim what is going on today right before their very eyes? This happens as a result of the Edomite-jew’s double-talk propaganda that evil is good and good is evil; that darkness is light and light is darkness; that bitter is sweet and sweet is bitter, as found at Isa. 5:20, and we suck it all in!

And just how did the communist-Edomite-jews “... endeavor to instill in the whites a guilt complex for their exploitation of the Negroes ...?” The answer to that question is, they, the communist-Edomite-jews, used every source of media they had under their control (which probably amounted to 95% of all media) to bring about their goal, and one can be damn sure they didn’t overlook the textbooks they printed for grade school, junior high school (now called middle school), high school, and nearly all college textbooks. All that was left for the communist-Edomite-jews to do was infiltrate the colleges and train prospective school teachers to teach from these communistic-Edomite-jewish inspired textbooks, which could be applied in thousands of ways. And when I say “colleges”, I include “religious colleges”! So, White middle-class country and city folk, you now have some idea what we have been fighting against, and somehow couldn’t put our finger on it!

But the reader must grasp that I didn’t understand any of these things yet, as I was in the middle of the seventh grade when my parents removed my sister and I from the Perry Center school district and moved us into Fostoria with our Keiser grandparents, where we could enter the Fostoria school system. It is doubtful, however, whether or not we got away from the communist-Edomite-Jewish influence being forced on our school systems all over America. Surely, some of the older teachers resisted such new divisive methods of teaching, and continued the modes that always worked for them. Whether or not Ralph Banks teaching in the Perry Center school system had communist leanings is questionable, although it did appear he had less than a desirable interest in his male students. And, it is strange that I never heard where Banks was ever hired by another school system, after leaving Perry Center on its closing. As a matter-of-fact, it seemed to me like he simply disappeared into thin air.

Junior high-school at Fostiria, Ohio was a new experience for me. Finally, I could work with the skill of my hands. They had a mechanical drawing course which I dearly loved. I then dreamed of becoming a professional draftsman, but the course wasn’t carried through the high school years. Typing was another hands-on course that I really liked, but I didn’t have a typewriter at home like some of the other students, so I didn’t get as proficient with it as I would have liked. On the typewriters that the school let us use, they had removed all the letters from off the keys and replaced the letters with some black blank coverings. In other words, one had to learn to type blind. The student was given a manuscript to type while not looking at the keys. Well, anyway, taking that typing course has helped me very much in my ministry, and I still keep my fingers on the home row.

In junior high, I got acquainted with another person much like my self. He, like I, was somewhat bored with the school’s curriculum, and studied other topics on his own. He invited me down to his house one evening and taught me how a radio tube works, and showed me how to read radio circuit diagrams. Well, that opened a whole new world to me. The first thing I knew, I was hooked. I bought myself a 1940s edition of The Radio Amateur’s Handbook, and my desire was to become a shortwave radio operator, so I started to practice the International Morse code in order to eventually get a ham’s license. But I soon learned that I didn’t have enough money, so I experimented around with crystal sets instead. However, a commercial crystal to build a crystal set was too expensive for me.

According to Webster’s Unified Encyclopedia and Dictionary, a crystal set is described as: “crystal set.radio. Receiving set with a crystal detector but having no electronic tubes.”

Well, I consulted my friend about lacking the funds to buy a commercially sold crystal for building a crystal set, and he told me I could make my own crystal by melting some lead mixed with sulphur. So I went home to my father’s house, and rummaged around the basement to find the items I needed. I found my father’s gasoline powered blowtorch, and a small cast iron ladle in which to heat up the lead and pour it into a mold. I also found some sulphur, and a scrap piece of ¾ inch board. So, I used my father’s brace-and-bit to drill eight or ten holes in the board, ½ inch wide and ½ inch deep. I heated up the ladle with the blowtorch until the lead melted, and then mixed a little sulphur with the melted lead, and then poured the lead into the holes I had drilled into the scrap board, and then let everything cool down.

Thankfully, my friend also drew me a diagram for assembling the parts to build my first crystal set. One thing I had to do was solder a flexible insulated copper wire to a sewing needle to poke the needle into the surface of the lead ingot I was using instead of a regular crystal to find a radio station. Sometimes one would have to poke around ten to twenty times before finding one.

Another thing I had to do was rig up a long wire antenna. I rummaged around some more, and I found some old bare copper wire, which might have been used as an antenna before. There was a large tree in our backyard which I climbed and attached one end of the antenna to a limb of that tree, and I strung the antenna approximately fifty to sixty-five feet to my upstairs bedroom. No one ever told me that it might be advisable to hook a lightning arrestor to that antenna! Happily, my crystal set never got fried. To keep the rest of the family content, I hooked up a set of earphones to my crystal set.

At last I had everything ready to give it a try. After a few pokes a radio station came in loud and clear. Now I could listen to my favorite country and western music (along with a limited amount of classical). I also dearly love Irish music! I was tired of listening to jungle jazz and the hit parade where they would slur nearly every word and note of a so-called song from beginning to the end.

Not being able to afford building and operating a short-wave radio station, nor becoming proficient in some branch of radio activity, I was able to scrape together enough pocket change to start taking a mail-order radio training course from the Sprayberry Academy of Radio in Colorado. In the first few lessons, I was learning many of the algebraic electronic formulas to understand how the various electronic circuits worked. About the same time, I decided to take algebra as one of my elective courses in high school. I had little trouble understanding thealgebraic electronic formulas from Sprayberry, but the high school course on algebra made no sense at all, as there was no hands-on way to apply it, as the Sprayberry Academy of Radio did so well. As a result, I became more interested in my radio course and less interested in my studies in high school. Looking back to that high school algebra course, the only thing I can figure out is: that algebra course was deliberately designed to confuse the White male students and discourage them from advancing to a more technical position. It was the same kind of confusion that was introduced many years later to the grade schools as “new math.” “New math” might be all right for a college student, but surely not for an immature grade school child! Is not mind molestation right next to child molestation?

Shortly after starting the Sprayberry radio course, another mailorder advertisement met my eye. This time again stirring up my former interest in mechanical drawing and drafting. After all, drawing diagrams of electrical and radio circuits is an art in itself. This advertisement didn’t ask for any money, but only requested one to send a sample of one’s skill in mechanical drawing. I very carefully followed their instructions on what kind of draft I should draw. The first thing I knew was they sent a representative around to my home and talked with my father, and as soon as my father found out it was going to cost him something, he said a deliberate “no”, and that was the end of that. After the twenty-nine depression set in, my father became quite stingy. I could drive other people’s automobiles, but not his. He never once offered to teach me to drive.

When I started to relate some of my life’s story in WTL #203, I was not sure how many installments it would take me to complete it. I’m not revealing all the events of my life, but only the highlights of those incidents that pertain to my getting involved in the Christian Israel Identity Message. Ever since the Almighty opened my eyes to the truth of Covenant Theology, I keep asking the question, “Why me?” Surely there are others much more capable than I!

This is my two hundred and fifth monthly teaching letter and starts my eighteenth year of publication. This will be the third in a series explaining how key experiences in my life would eventually lead me to my Christian Israel Identity ministry.

I explained in WTL #204 how in junior high, I got acquainted with a classmate who was much like myself and introduced me to how a radio tube worked and showed me how to read radio circuit diagrams, which immediately spurred my interest into becoming a shortwave radio operator, which I soon learned I couldn’t afford. Radio repair also crossed my mind. In the late 30s and early 40s there were neither television nor high fidelity FM (with or without stereo)! All we had were the AM radio band and several shortwave bands broadcasting voice or the International Morse code. If we wanted to listen to recorded music, all we had was a 78 RPM record player with a windup motor. Even then, there were large phonograph record stores which specialized in jungle-jazz, and the latest songs on the hit parade, starring blacks and Edomite-jews from Broadway in New York or Hollywood. Like all the other forms of the media, the phonograph record business was controlled by these same people.

What I did find that I could afford, was to build a homemade crystal set. At last I had everything ready to give it a try. After a few pokes, a radio station came in loud and clear. Now I could listen to my favorite country and western music (along with a limited amount of classical, and some of the better religious hymns). I also dearly love Irish music! I was tired of listening to jungle jazz and the hit parade where they would slur nearly every word and note of a so-called song from beginning to the end.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but my excessive dislike for jazz and what they classified as “popular music” led me eventually to understand the evil side of music, thus conditioning me for my present ministry. In my research on the subject of subversive music, I found the book The Marxist Minstrels, A Handbook On Communist Subversion Of Music, by David A. Noebel. I will quote the preface in its entirety, pp. i-iv:

“PREFACE: Karl Marx in his 1848 Manifesto said, ‘The Communists disdain to conceal their views and aims.’

“Following the example of their phrenological master, the Communists have openly declared culture (music, art and literature) to be in their sphere of weaponry. Moshe Decter, in The Profile of Communism, admits, ‘The Communists endeavor to capture men’s minds through the cultural offensive.’ And J. Edgar Hoover, the late director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, stated that the Communists ‘have infiltrated every conceivable sphere of activity; youth groups, radio, television, and motion picture industries; church, school, educational and cultural groups; the press; nationality minority groups and civil and political units.’ He stated elsewhere, (‘The war between communism and the free world is not fought with bombs or other tangible weapons. It is being fought now by subversion through the medium of ideas. It is not an accident that the greatest concentration of Communist workers has been found in three fields – education, union, entertainment. These are the areas where ideas flourish and thinking patterns are formed.’)

“In the musical arena the radicals have to be congratulated for their successful use of music, for they have inflicted upon the American people a program persistently pursued until near perfection and completion. The Communist infiltration into the subversion of American music has been nothing short of phenomenal and in some areas, e.g., folk music, their control is fast approaching the saturation point under the able leadership of Pete Seeger, Sing Out! Folkways Records and Oak Publications, Inc. One need only consult R. Serge Denisoff’s Great Day Coming for corroborating evidence.

“The subverter’s use of music is a refined two-edged subversive sword, cutting deeply into our nation’s will to resist a ‘Soviet America.’

“One cutting edge is aimed at removing the barrier between classical music and certain types of popular music by substituting perverted form (e.g., jungle noises) for standardized classical form.

“The other edge is more psychological than cultural and consists of the Communist use of music directed at destroying the mental and emotional stability of America’s youth through a scheme capable of producing mass neurosis.

(“The father of the [Jewish] Bolshevik Revolution, V.I. Lenin, speaking to the Third All-Russian Congress of the Young Communist League on October 2, 1920, insisted that they must ‘rework culture,’ for only by so doing could they hope to build ‘a proletarian [Communist] culture.’ He also appreciated the findings of Ivan Pavlov and his experiments regarding ‘conditioned reflexes.’)

“In 1929, the ideological platform of the Russian Association of Proletarian Musicians was written. In its class war interpretation of music, the comrades were assured that classical music was ‘bourgeois,’ whereas folk music was the music of the ‘exploited and oppressed classes.’ The ultimate aim of the Association was the extension of the proletarian Communist influence to the musical masses, reeducation and reorganization of these masses in order to direct their work and creative talents toward socialist upbuilding.’ To accomplish this, ‘new musical forms [must be] created and will be created by the proletariat. Proletarian music must penetrate into the innermost masses of workmen and peasants, unite the thought and the will of these masses and raise them for further struggle and construction, organizing their class consciousness in the direction of the ultimate victory of the proletariat as builder of a Communist society.’

“The subversive International Music Bureau, with its headquarters in Moscow, published its aims in the magazine Soviet Music in 1933. The publication announced, ‘We should not verge one single iota from a program of progressive class struggle. We can be successful in our efforts only if we know how to transplant our political slogans to the sphere of music ... We should prove that the only right road for artistic creations, which include also that of musicians, is the service to the objectives of proletarian revolution.’ Hanns Eisler, one of the founders of the International Music Bureau, frankly admitted, ‘Communist music becomes heavy artillery in the battle for Communism.’

“On November 18, 1945, the National Council of American-Soviet Friendship held an American-Soviet cultural conference at the Engineering Societies Building in New York City. Scores of Communists and their followers attended, together with others interested in revolutionary, leftist cultural activities.

“Less than six months later an ‘Arts as a Weapon’ symposium was held in New York City on April 15, 1946. It was headlined by Communist Party chief William Z. Foster, Howard Fast, Dalton Trumbo, Arnaud E’Usseau and Elizabeth Cattlett. It was decided at this time that the cultural section of the revolutionary field was to be rebuilt; that ‘art was to become a weapon.’ Only a few months earlier, Moscow had purged its cultural fronts of the so-called ‘weaklings’ who had permitted the ‘vibrations of world unity for victory to dull their drums for revolution.’

“In July 1946 a cultural front congress was held in Moscow. Norman Corwin, American writer and radio commentator, was the ‘honored guest.’ He presented the Moscow International Convention with two recordings from the American-Soviet Music Society, on which were reproduced special messages from the Red leaders in the United States to the Soviet heads.’ In this same year the Communists established a number of recording companies here in the United States, aimed not only at proletariatizing our culture, but also seeking to make a generation of our youth mentally ill. This program will be examined in detail in this work.

“Sidney Finkelstein, ‘the cultural spokesman for the Communist conspiracy’ in the United States, in his book How Music Expresses Ideas, made Lenin’s ‘rework culture’ speech the heart of his work. Finkelstein called for breaking down the barrier between classical music and ‘popular’ music. He termed this barrier chauvinistic, and proposed to smash it by inundating the American public with the ‘music of the Negro people.’ One can be sure Mr. Finkelstein was not referring to ‘Negro spirituals’ but rather to African ‘beat’ music. His proposed method of eliminating the barrier seems to be quite successful since America is presently submerged in jungle ‘beats’ and ‘noises.’

“Even Time magazine’s article on rock ’n’ roll more than substantiated Finkelstein’s fondest dreams. Finkelstein concludes, ‘works will come forth which will inspire the American people in their collective struggles for peaceful progress, express their solidarity with all other struggling peoples and be a historic contribution to world culture.’

“And now Jerry Rubin in his modern day ‘Communist Manifesto’ Do It! admits that ‘rock ’n’ roll marked the beginning of the revolution.’ He says, ‘We see sex, rock ’n’ roll and dope as part of a Communist plot to take over America.’ And concludes, ‘We’ve combined youth, music, sex, drugs and rebellion with treason – and that’s a combination hard to beat.’

“Perhaps this is why Alfred G. Aronowitz commented, ‘If the establishment knew what today’s popular music really is saying, not what the words are saying, but what the music itself is saying, then they wouldn’t just turn thumbs down on it. They’d ban it, they’d smash all the records and they’d arrest anyone who tried to play it.’ Or again, ‘While American radio kept busy trying to keep its turntable clean of records that dealt with sex and drugs, American songwriters kept busy outwitting the censors with lyrics that had double, triple and sometimes multiple meanings. America’s new generation was creating its own culture and as part of that culture it was creating its own music and its own language.’

“This study is concerned with both the cultural and the psycho- physiological, i.e., the Communist use of music capable of producing a generation of neurotic and emotionally unstable youth. The study is, in part, ‘unbelievable,’ but then so is E= MC², and since knowledge is the irreducible requirement for intelligent action, the following material is offered with the sincere prayer that those concerned will take the prop- er action to assure a free Republic based on Christian precepts and Constitutional concepts.” (End of preface)

A quick note on the name “Finkelstein”: (1) When it is spelled “Fink”, it is often an indication that it is jewish, (2) When it is spelled “Finck”, it is generally an indication that it is German! The name Finck has a recorded history as a Christian name in Germany dating to at least the 13th century, and is not related to Jewish names like Finkel.

Also, it is interesting that: “The subversive International Music Bureau, with its headquarters in Moscow, published its aims in the magazine Soviet Music in 1933.” This is intriguing, as 1933 is the year I entered the first grade at the Perry Center school in Perry Township, Wood County, Ohio. Why then, should I be surprised that jewish com- munism was already focusing on my education, and how they could make me “ill”!

Repeating: Nor should we be surprised that: “He, [J. Edgar Hoover], stated elsewhere, ‘The war between communism and the free world is not fought with bombs or other tangible weapons. It is being fought now by subversion through the medium of ideas. It is not an accident that the greatest concentration of Communist workers has been found in three fields – education, union, entertainment. These are the areas where ideas flourish and thinking patterns are formed’.”

Why should I be further surprised at reading: “The father of the [Jewish] Bolshevik Revolution, V.I. Lenin, speaking to the Third All- Russian Congress of the Young Communist League on October 2, 1920, insisted that they must ‘rework culture,’ for only by so doing could they hope to build ‘a proletarian [Communist] culture.’ He also appreciated the findings of Ivan Pavlov and his experiments regarding ‘conditioned reflexes’.”

When I examine this, I realize that in 1920, my mother was only ten years old, and would become a victim of jewish communist propa- ganda, such as the book The Melting Pot,written by one Edomite- jew, Israel Zangwill, who falsely taught that all White, Caucasian, European Americans were of mixed race. Just how she ever got a copy of this book to read, she never revealed, but one can be quite sure it was obtained through an Edomite-jewish source! Who knows, it might have been sponsored and circulated by some church, with the thought of doing the Almighty a favor! What I do realize from all of it is that Yahweh was preparing me for this, my present ministry!

While being on the subject of music, I would be remiss if I neglected to reveal to the reader just how I became interested in harmoniously pleasing melodies, rather than jungle jazz and discor- dant noise. Sometime around 1937, someone sold my mother on the idea that I should start taking lessons to learn how to play a Hawaiian guitar, without consulting me. The first thing I knew, my parents had purchased a new Hawaiian guitar with a case and the needed acces- sories, and signed me up to start taking lessons. Looking back, I believe it was a high-pressure scheme to sell a lot of Hawaiian guitars, and then make more profit by giving lessons on how to play them. I remember vaguely that they operated out of a studio they had set up. The first song they taught me to play was “Nearer My God To Thee”, but after that the songs were less desirable to a nine year old boy, so practice became a chore rather than a pleasure. I don’t know how much money my parents might have paid up-front, but suddenly my mother decided to take the lessons instead of myself, then she also got tired of them and quit, and the guitar sat in the closet collecting dust.

In 1938, my father bought a good console-style radio with super- heterodyne circuitry that covered the AM band and several short-wave bands. With these newly improved circuits, music was much clearer than before. About a year later, after we had moved three quarters of a mile northwest of Fostoria on the then U.S. route 23, every Saturday mid-evening, I would tune in to WSM out of Nashville, Tennessee, and listen to The Grand Ole Opry. Right away my sister would complain, as she wanted to listen to The Hit Parade instead! My sister hated the music that I liked, and I hated the music that she favored! So, every Saturday mid-evening it would be a long drawn-out war of words. This went on week after week. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was Yahweh who was putting it in my heart to hate that which was being propagandized as “popular”! This was just another incident that was preparing me for the Christian Israel Identity Message, and I would not become aware of it until many years later!

After moving to this new location on U.S. 23, an opportunity opened to me, as there was a creek running about 200 feet behind our house, and I was advised it was a good place to trap for muskrat. So I bought a dozen heavy-duty traps from the hardware store, and when the season opened, I set my traps, and began running them daily, usually around 12 midnight to 2 AM. I had to set the traps in such a way as to pull the muskrat under water, or he would chew his leg off and get away. When I caught one, I would then have to skin it and stretch the skin, with its fur, over a specially designed board, and then hang it up to dry. My father showed me how to shape the board for the stretching. When skinning the muskrat, one had to be very careful not puncture the skin, or it would devalue the hide. My father took the time to show me, and skinned the first muskrat that I had caught, and then I was on my own. If one has never skinned a muskrat and stretched its pelt on a board, one is missing one of life’s great experiences, as one’s hands get quite slimy and smelly in the process. After about mid-season, I had several muskrat pelts skinned, stretched and dried, and a fur buyer stopped around and gave me $3.00 for each one, which made me very happy. Then the fur-buyer gave me quite a surprise as he said he would pay me the usual $3.00 for each muskrat, and 50¢ extra if I wouldn’t skin and stretch them. Well, that was music to my ears, as I really wasn’t over-thrilled with the job of skinning and stretching them in the first place. I often wondered why he was willing pay me an extra 50¢ for not skinning and stretching them. Years later I came to realize the fur-buyer was selling those muskrat carcasses to the people on the other side of the railroad tracks, just beyond Jacob Schiff’s junkyard on Spruce street to the squat monsters and hottentots who resided there. Whether or not this Jacob Schiff was any relation to the infamous banker, I do not know, but he probably was! What amazes me is the fact that this fur-buyer didn’t come around for a few weeks at a time, and those muskrats laid around many days in temperatures well above freezing, and must have been quite rotten by the time they were cooked.

The reason that fur prices were so high in the early 40s was because the wearing of fur coats by women was all the rage from then until the early 1950s, when the popularity finally gradually died out. Not only was the original price quite high to purchase the fur coat, but to keep the summer bugs from eating away at them, the coats had to be put into storage during the warmer months which became quite expensive, as while they were in storage, they had to be locked up in a sealed room where certain gasses could be applied to keep the fur from being eaten by various insects and worms. Then to keep the coat in top condition, each coat would be carefully inspected and any needed repairs made. Over a few seasons, the fur coats simply wore out and no amount of repair could bring them back to like-new condition, and the women were forced financially to find a different fad!

Anyway, after that first trapping season, I had saved up a little money so I could go shopping in downtown Fostoria, probably, as I remember, on a Saturday evening. I had nothing in particular that I was looking for, but just going from store to store to see what they had. I finally ended up at the southern part of the business district where I was just passing the Firestone Tire Store. They had a few items of interest in the window display, so I decided to go inside to see what else they might have for sale. While there, I spotted a small compact portable radio. It was used, and the price was marked down accordingly. My first concern was how many distant stations it could pick up. It was quite sensitive, and because it ran strictly on batteries the reception was quite clear. It was probably the first good portable radio on the market. If I remember, the used price was something like thirteen dollars, and I had enough to pay cash, so I purchased it.

When I got it home, I had no problem of tuning in WSM, Nashville, Tennessee to get my favorite programs. In the process, I found another high power station, XEAW out of Reynosa, Tamaulipas, Mexico, that carried the identical kind of music the WSM station broadcast. XEAW did not, at that time, have any kind of Mexican-style music, but mostly country and western, along with a lot of religious hymns. What was different about XEAW was it played this kind of music almost continually. Finally, my sister could listen to her Hit Parade on the downstairs living room console-style radio, while I could go upstairs to my bedroom with my portable radio, and listen to my kind of music. The main thing that I had to do was keep batteries in the radio.

I don’t remember how long I used that portable radio, but somewhat later when I went to use it, the plastic case was warped out of shape showing that it had been overheated in some way. I knew this radio needed ventilation, so I was very careful not to cover it over with my bed blankets. I may have left to visit my Keiser grandparents a few days, and when I returned home the radio’s case was wrinkled, and I couldn’t turn it on. Even new batteries didn’t help. At that time I hadn’t studied radio enough to trace each circuit, to see where the trouble was. Years later, after I was married, I did complete a radio and television course by mail through The National Radio Institute out of Washington D.C.

To be sure, I was very disappointed that I could no longer use my portable radio to listen to my favorite music. I can’t say that the thought of my sister, while I was gone, may have taken it to bed with her and pulled a blanket over herself and the radio, didn’t cross my mind, but whatever really happened, I’ll never know. I kept this thought to myself, not blaming anyone for what had happened. Like the ex- pression some people use today, “shit happens”! Then, strangely, somewhere along the line, a Spanish-style guitar showed up, with a promise by my father to have one of his co-workers at Union Carbide to give me lessons on how to play it. All of this ended up with three lessons teaching me some of the basic chords in three different keys. From this humble beginning, I soon found all I needed at a local music store where they sold sheet music and books containing all the guitar chords possible, along with the proper words of various songs, for a Spanish guitar. Years later, though, I found the guitar chords shown in the various sheet music and songbooks incomplete. After I had gotten married, I learned to read the music staff of songs in hymnals, and found that the people who added the guitar diagrams to the sheet music and song books lacked some of the proper notes, or substituted them with a similar chord that didn’t harmonize with the author’s original intent. By that later time, I found other priorities taking all of my time, and the guitar took a back seat in my life, and gradually faded completely away, while I still like to listen to the same kind of music. This sensitivity in favor of inspired harmonic music, as opposed to uninspired dis-harmonic jazz and noisy babel (so-called music), was one more thing that was preparing me for my eventual knowledge of the Christian Israel Identity Message, and my ministry to that end!

At this juncture, I will skip over part of my youth until the summer of 1943, when at 15 years old, I decided to hitch-hike to California where my uncle Merrill was stationed in the Army near Riverside (in the desert at the time), just south of San Bernardino. My uncle had met and married a young woman from Long Beach, so my first goal was to stop at Long Beach to meet my new aunt and her family. My most interesting ride that I got was through the entire state of Nebraska, where a man of about 55 years picked me up driving a pre- WW II Buick. During WW II, the government had passed an emergen- cy law requiring a speed limit of no more than 35 MPH throughout the country, and this man drove his Buick exactly that speed all the way through that state! It took a long time, but he had a long story to tell. The gist of his story was: he informed me that Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin were planning to meet and sell our country out to the Communists. That conference did take place in February of 1945 at Yalta. Thus, this man revealed this to me one year and seven months before-the-fact, and I have never forgotten it! This all came back to me in my memory when researching the conspiracy in the late 1970s and early 80s. The question which I must ask is: Was this just a fluke meeting this man in Nebraska, or was it intended by the Almighty?

The next summer of 1944, being 16 years old, I returned to Long Beach California to board with my aunt Helen, and her father and mother Kindig, and I worked at Douglas Aircraft on C-47s during my summer vacation between school-years, after which time I returned home to Fostoria, Ohio.

After returning home, I could see I was getting old enough that I might be drafted into the Army within a year or two. One must understand that in 1944, most sources believed WW II would continue another ten years. Rather than wait and be drafted into the Army, I decided to join the Navy, as it appeared to be a better branch of the U.S armed forces to serve in. Because I was a little under age, my father had to sign permission for me to join. Then on December 7th, 1944, the navy sent a school bus painted blue, to pick me up at my home in Fostoria. By the time we reached Toledo, Ohio, the bus was full of others who had signed up for the Navy. At Toledo, there was a general physical examination of all who were on the bus, and a few were rejected for one reason or another, and were returned to their homes. After this physical, all who had passed it were loaded on a train and we headed for Chicago, where we were transferred to the high trolley line and headed for the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in northern Illinois. After we had reached Great Lakes, they herded us (and there were about five or six hundred) into a very large empty room with no furniture of any kind. There we were left standing and waiting, but no one came. It was around 11 P.M. and after an hour and a half, many of us started to sit or lay down on the floor, and find a position where we could be comfortable in some manner. Then, finally, about 3 A.M. someone did show up and we were led to a room full of unfolded cots, where we could get some sleep. But very early in the morning we were awakened, after a short night’s sleep to go to breakfast where we were served a helping of beans. I think, during my entire life, that was the only time I ever ate beans for breakfast (navy beans of course)!

Well, this was another arduous day at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center. After breakfast, we were led into another large room, and ordered to take all of our clothes off, even our shoes, rings or wristwatches, and all were to be boxed up and sent back to our homes. There we were, stripped, stark, naked in a room with about five or six hundred other men! We were all lined up in a single column going through the dental inspection line, and all needing dental work were recorded and scheduled for fillings or whatever we needed. Some men’s teeth were so bad, they were assigned to a special dental company, where all of their teeth would be pulled and replaced with false teeth. I’m sure somewhere along the line, all of us would be thoroughly X-rayed. Then came the drawing of blood to determine what blood-type each one of us had, after which followed the vaccination line with several men with vaccination syringes on both the right and left sides of us, and we received vaccination shots in both arms at once (for only heaven knew what). When one got past the first two men with syringes, there would be another two men with more syringes loaded with vaccine of some kind, and another two, and another two! After we had a thorough physical examination (which some failed), and received our vaccinations, we were lined up to receive our Navy clothing. The first thing they did was have a man measuring our shoe size, then a pair of dress shoes and a pair of work shoes were issued. Then, as we continued down the line we were issued changes of socks and underwear, followed by full Navy dress and work uniforms, and a large duffel-bag to place the clothing we were not using at the time into, along with personal items we might purchase later, like a writing tablet with pencils, pens and envelopes, and who knows what else. We were also issued a linen Navy-type mattress bunk cover and a wool blanket, and a Navy pillow cover.

After we had been issued all of this we were ordered to form in columns and march (actually walk) from what they called “Main Side” over about a mile or so into where they had built new barracks around large paved marching grounds. I was assigned to company #2224. After I was there just a few days, a colder than normal winter set in, calling for a lot of snow shoveling details to be ordered into action. Also, because of the extra-cold weather, the coal furnaces heating high-pressure steam to the steam radiators had to be tended continu- ously. There was a coal supply to each furnace room, and when the steam pressure became too low, some coal would have to be added to the furnace, and the draft air intake would have to be adjusted to maintain the ideal steam pressure, and I will assure the reader that the 200 men in our company never got cold in our barracks.

During this extra cold period of time, an epidemic of scarlet fever broke out throughout the Great Lakes Naval Training Center. Those in charge of these new trainees became alarmed, and tried to take measures in order to stop its spread. Sulfa was a new drug at that time, and once each day they would line everyone up in our company in front of a drinking fountain, and issue each one of us two tablets of sulfa, and the person doing the issuing, stood right there making sure each man put the two tablets of sulfa securely in his mouth and then completely swallowed them. A few of the men actually got sick from the sulfa, but not myself. However, that sulfa didn’t prevent me from contracting the dreaded scarlet fever. Shortly after the sulfa episode, I got very sick, and I could tell from my overly warm forehead I was running a fairly high temperature, and the very odor of food upset my stomach. That same evening, I dressed up as warmly as I could, as the temperature outside was near zero, and walked about a third of a mile to sickbay. After arriving at sickbay, I had to get into a line leading to some male medical assistants, where they would check some of the basic bodily functions such as blood pressure, pulse, temperature, etc. and because my temperature was about 99.5, they issued me a bunk duty exemption. At this point, they ordered someone in my company to bring me a serving of each item that the mess-hall had on its menu that day. I tried to eat a couple of bites, and then I nearly vomited those two bites back up. As I wasn’t getting any better, I made two more trips to sickbay, and I don’t remember if these two trips were on successive evenings or not. Anyway, each of these two times my temperature was about the same, and I was again in each visit issued a bunk duty exemption. By this time I was becoming quite desperate, and decided to return to sickbay a fourth time. I began to realize that I was running a much higher temperature than they were getting at sickbay, as walking a third of a mile in zero weather, my body temper- ature was dropping down because of walking in that super-cold weather. This time, while walking to sickbay, I made up my mind I was going to watch every move they made, to see if I could get some attention. After entering sickbay once more, I had to get into that same line leading to some male medical assistants, where they would check those same basic bodily functions. This time I noticed they were giving some of the men going through the line a slip of paper, and those men would in turn then go to another line and would be seen by a full fledged doctor, so after I was given another light duty bunk exemption, I went over to the doctor’s line, and I had to stand in that line quite some time. I was the last one in line, so when I finally got to a doctor, I hold him, ‘I don’t have a slip to see you, but I am sick!’ Right away he asked me to expose my stomach, and he replied, “You have scarlet fever! Go over here in this side room where there is a couch, and you may lie down and rest until the ambulance arrives to take you to the main hospital”! I didn’t realize it at the time, but I would spend seven weeks at that hospital, and it would become yet another major turning point in my life. [I will give more detail of my extended hospital stay later.]

This is my two hundred and sixth monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last lesson, WTL #205, I left off by explaining how I joined the Navy and ended up at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in northern Illinois, and how after only a month into my basic training, I got sick with the scarlet fever and ended up in the hospital for seven weeks.

Other than that, one of the very first things they did was to put us through a series of IQ tests. I was hoping to get into some kind of radio training. In part of the IQ test, they wanted to see how much of the International Morse code we might know. They sent the sound of the dots and dashes through a speaker, and very slowly sent Morse code for a few words to see if we could read them or not. As I, on my own time, had been practicing the Morse code for my self, I was able to read, and write down the words being sent. At that time, the Navy scheduled me for Radio Signal School. But as the fortunes of war were changing, the demand for Radio Signal operators was declining, so they rescheduled me for just plain Signal school consisting of flashing lights and semaphore. When VE day came, and the war ended in Europe, the quota for the flashing light and semaphore signal-men was drastically reduced. So the Navy took the cream of the crop, and let the remainder continue living in the school barracks until the time when that particular class ended. I think what the armed forces were really doing was reserving us in case they might need us for some area where they might want to beef up their forces. As it turned out suddenly in August of 1945, two atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the war with Japan was over.

With both the European and Japanese wars being over, there was an immediate demand for the bulk of our armed forces to be discharged. Suddenly, in August of 1945, our jobs in the military were no longer to fight a war, but to occupy the lands we had conquered. So I found myself Seaman second class, not specializing in much of anything. But in spite of this, some opportunities did open up to me. By the first week of September, 1945, a whole train of us from the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in northern Illinois were boarded on a troop train bound for Camp Shoemaker at Dublin, California. All during WW II, the troop trains were given priority over freight trains. Immediately upon the war being ended, the freight trains were given priority, and the troop trains had to sit idly by on the side tracks as the freight trains went zooming by. How many times our troop train was sidetracked on that trip would be hard to estimate, but I am sure there weren’t very many sidetracks we didn’t sit idle on.

Actually, that train trip from Great Lakes Naval Training Center to Camp Shoemaker near Oakland, California turned out to be quite a circus. It seemed like every time our train pulled on a sidetrack, and some of the Navy men spotted a bar, nearly half of the train would hightail it to that bar. I am sure they left that bar with an insufficient inventory! Another part of the circus was when the troop train started to move to get back on the main line, here came all of these men running faster than they ever had to get back on the train. Several times some of them almost didn’t make it, but I never heard that we had lost one of them. This same thing happened time and again. Another thing, the Navy had to prearrange for food at various points along the way – the food was always good, but sometimes quite interesting. Some of the men had special expressions for some of it. Another thing, troop trains didn’t have dining cars, but when the chow was ready, our men would move out systematically in single file to a central car and pick up their portion (usually boxed), and then return back or forward single file to the car and seat where we were originally sitting, and then eat our food there. Because our troop train had to be detained on the sidetracks so often, we were never sure when the meals would be served. Some of the troop trains used in WW II were made up of old railroad passenger cars from the WW I era. The troop train we were on was more modern with better facilities, befitting the 1945 era. By the time of WW II, there were already super passenger trains using diesel engines to generate electricity for the electric motors that propelled the drive wheels on the engine, but, to my knowledge, none were used as troop trains at that time.

After this long, grueling on again, off again train ride, we finally arrived at our destination at Camp Shoemaker at Dublin, California. Camp Shoemaker was also known as Fleet City, and housed both the Seabees and Navy personnel, a hospital, and many warehouses. At the time that I was there, Camp Shoemaker was being used as a staging area to send new Navy personnel overseas to relieve other Navy personnel to be discharged from the service. Evidently, the higher-up service leaders were in a dither about whom to send, and where to send them. Anyway, for maybe a month, all we did was sit around the barracks twiddling our thumbs, or occasionally a minor work detail. One day officers came to our barracks, ordering all of us to form columns, then marched us down to one of the many warehouses and sent us through the warehouse single file. The first thing they did was issue each of us two large Seabee-type duffel bags, which were much larger than the standard Navy duffel bag. As we proceeded down the line they threw in four pair of Seabee-type work shoes, along with many pairs of stocks and many sets of underwear. Additionally, they threw in several coats, both for heavy weather and light duty. These Seabee duffel bags were as tall as I am, and probably held twice as much as a Navy duffel bag. They even threw in a heavy duty knife, and a lot of other things a Seabee might need. It made us wonder where we might be going. We finally dragged these duffel bags to the end of the line, and a man said to us, “sign here”, and we all signed. Then we were ordered to tag each one of these duffel bags with our name and service number, and then place them into a large pile, and we all complied. What we didn’t know at that time was, none of us would ever see those jam-packed duffel bags again. I thought about it years later, and I surmise that they ended up in an Edomite-jewish operated Army and Navy surplus store somewhere in the United States.

The irony of the story is, when I was finally stationed overseas on the island of Manicani (a ship repair base) in the Philippines, my last pair of dress shoes wore out with a large hole in the sole of the shoe, and the clothing annex didn’t have any for me to buy. So the only thing that I could do was rummage around the various dumps on Manicani, to see if I could find something reasonable to wear on my feet. After quite some time, I did find a pair of shoes, half worn out, two sizes too large for me, which I wore for several months. I even thought of writing home for my parents to send me a black, plain toe pair of shoes in my size, for those dumpster shoes felt like walking in rowboats, they were so sloppy. When I signed off on those two crammed-full Seabee duffel bags, that gave the officer in charge at Camp Shoemaker the prerogative to do whatever he pleased with them, but I imagine the record still shows they were issued to me. I would recall this experience while I was in the process of researching the conspiracy in the late 70s, as it fit in quite well with the other things going on in the world for centuries. Finally when the Message of Christian Israel Identity opened my eyes, it was even more insightful to me, and has aided me in my ministry since May, 1998!

As I have gotten a little ahead of my story, I will return to Camp Shoemaker at Dublin, California. After a few weeks at Camp Shoemaker, we were moved to Treasure Island in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, half way between San Francisco and Oakland to await a ship to be shipped overseas. While there, I decided to hitch-hike to Long Beach on a weekend pass. I made it there okay, but almost didn’t make it back. Going back north, I made it as far as San Luis Obispo, and if it hadn’t been for a man with a party of servicemen, driving his 1939 Ford 90 MPH, I would have been AWOL. As it turned out, we arrived at the west side of Bay Bridge in San Francisco, and had enough time to stop into a restaurant and get breakfast, and then make my way to the main gate at Treasure Island before 8 A.M. on Monday. Driving an automobile 90 MPH in 1945, would be like driving 130 MPH today! Not only that, but in those days, they had only two lane roads.

At Treasure Island, we continued to bide our time, waiting for a ship. Finally a ship showed up by the name of “J. Franklin Bell”. The J. Franklin Bell was commissioned as an attack troop ship and was built in 1918 by the New York Shipbuilding Corporation in Camden, New Jersey, and then later in 1946 it was decommissioned, and scrapped in 1948. I found a short history of our voyage from the Internet at:

http://ww2troopships.com/ships/j/jfranklinbell_USN/default.htm

“... When the war ended, J. Franklin Bell sailed on 21 September for the Western Pacific, carrying troops to Eniwetok, Okinawa, and Leyte ...” Leyte is an Island in the Philippines, between Luzon and Mindanao. I was with the group that arrived at Leyte, and was then transferred to the island of Manicani (a ship repair base) in the Philippines. As the J. Franklin Bell set sail for Leyte from San Francisco, a few days out we ran into an enormous typhoon. I don’t remember how many days out it was, as I was suffering from sea sickness for a few days. I no more than got my sea legs, when the typhoon hit. One morning I went up to the mess-hall, and strangely, all the men were eating standing up, rather than sitting down as usual. In about a minute I learned the reason why, when the ship leaned to the right at about 45 degrees, and all the men with the tables along with their food slid violently over against the right side of the mess-hall with things flying everywhere. I simply proceeded to the mess-line; got my food, and I too ate my breakfast standing up, while the ship stayed somewhat stable. During my life, I have experienced this typhoon; an earthquake at Long Beach, California (with the epicenter at Bakersfield, California) in 1951; and two close-calls with tornadoes.

I also remember well the J. Franklin Bell dropping anchor at Eniwetok and Okinawa. If I remember correctly, the anchorage at Eniwetok was short in nature, while the anchorage at Okinawa was somewhat extended, and lasted many days. Some of the Japanese at Okinawa hadn’t received the news that the war was over, and were still firing their guns up in the hills. This is probably what caused the extended delay. Finally, somebody somewhere in charge of troop dispersal decided to leave off about half of the Navy personnel at Okinawa and take the remainder to Leyte. I was one of the group taken to Leyte. When I was finally transferred to the ship repair base on Manicani, I was interviewed about my occupational experience. I told the interviewer that I had worked in an aircraft factory. Right away, he assigned me to the sheet-metal shop on Manicani. I liked the job in the sheet-metal shop and the opportunity to learn how to use the tools of the sheet-metal trade. The main project the sheet-metal shop was doing at that time, was building latrines to fasten to the deck railings of the troop carrying ships in which to repatriate the Japanese troops back to Japan. These latrines were then be fastened to the ship’s deck railings in order to prevent the Japanese from using the toilet facilities belonging to the ship’s crew. It would have been nice had someone actually designed how these latrines should’ve been built, but the men in the sheet-metal shop had to use the cut-and-try method to get the job done. They looked somewhat like a farmer’s animal feeding trough, with down-spouts spaced about every twelve or so feet, in order to drain the effluent over the side of the ship into the ocean. I think they may have used Liberty Ships for this purpose.

One day in the sheet-metal shop it was announced that they were going to give blueprint reading classes for anyone interested in taking them. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to take classes on blueprint reading, as in junior high school, drafting was my favorite subject. These were once-a-week classes, and I had taken about four sessions when another opportunity opened up to me. I found out, by the teacher’s own admission that he was a jew, and had worked for the General Motors Corporation in civilian life. Somehow he had worked himself into the barber shop, as a barber, on Manicani. He was getting close to being discharged from the Navy, and had some used barber tools he wanted to sell. So he announced one evening at the blueprint reading class, if anyone wanted to become a barber, to come and see him at the end of the class. I knew that it was against Navy rules to charge a price for a haircut, but almost everyone getting a haircut on Manicani was tipping the barber about one peso (US 50 cents) when they got their haircut. So I took the blueprint reading teacher up on his offer. He instructed me to go to a certain building and talk to a certain officer. Further, he told me to tell said officer that I was an experienced barber. But If I did get transferred from the sheetmetal shop to the barber shop, I had to purchase his used barber tools, for which he set a price of seventy US dollars. I found out later, after I was discharged form the Navy that I could have purchased the same tools brand new for half that price, but I still don’t regret making that purchase. I then went down to said building and told the said officer that I was an experienced barber. I really didn’t lie, as I did trim two different guys on two different occasions around the ears and the lower neck, so they wouldn’t catch hell from the inspecting officer the next day at inspection. I just didn’t reveal how little experience I had at barbering.

Shortly, I found myself in the quonset-hut style galvanized steel building used as a barber shop on Manicani, with nine other barbers, and a barber chair was assigned to me. These weren’t commercially manufactured barber chairs, but something the Seabees evidently cobbled together earlier when the Seabees were setting up the ship repair base. There was no hydraulic mechanism to raise or lower the chair, nor could the chair be revolved around. I came into the shop acting like I knew what I was doing, and placed my newly purchased used barber tools on a cabinet behind my assigned barber chair. The shop was already getting quite busy, with men streaming in from all over the base. One of the men streaming in, promptly sat down in the barber chair assigned to me. I put a towel over the back of his neck, and tucked part of it under his collar. I next wrapped a neck strip around his neck, and placed a hair-cloth over his upper body. At this point I hesitated momentarily, wondering where to start. Then I picked up my electric clippers and a comb. I started at the base of the back of his neck, and somehow that didn’t look right, so I continued a little higher with the clippers, and it still didn’t look right, so again I moved the clippers a little higher, and it still didn’t look right. At this point, I decided to lay the clippers aside, and I picked up my scissors and my barber’s comb, and started to work on other areas of the head, where any miscue wouldn’t be so noticeable. By this time it was beginning to look like a decent haircut, but I still had to go to that bare spot on the back of his neck, and try to repair what I had done with the clippers there. Working on each side of that bare spot, I decided to rock my clippers slightly outward as I moved the clippers upward, and that gave me the tapered effect that I needed. After a little tedious work, I was able to blend the taper in somewhat, and I decided to discontinue, and call for the next man in line. But before I had a chance to do that, the blueprint reading teacher (and also barber) came over to me and gave a once over touchup to my first haircut. He did this again for three of the haircuts I had given after that. And believe it or not, I received a one peso tip on the first haircut. I was in a position where I had to learn fast, and by the third day, I was somewhat keeping pace with the other nine barbers. With the tip money coming in, I was able to stop drawing my regular Navy pay, and when I was finally discharged I received a quite sizable mustering-out pay check. At the opposite end of this quonset-hut they had a room partitioned off for a commissioned officer’s barber shop which did have a commercially manufactured barber chair, but knowing the rules, they seldom tipped the barber. Somewhere along the line, I had to take my turn at being the barber for the commissioned officers. About the second day of being the barber for the commissioned officers, one of them tipped me one US dollar. Having my whites on, with little space in my clothing to put the US dollar in, I just laid it on the back bar. After doing that, nearly every commissioned officer, seeing the dollar bill laying there, likewise tipped me a dollar. So each day, when I opened the commissioned officer’s barber shop, I would put a US dollar bill on the back bar, and the sight of that dollar kept on working.

But this favorable situation was coming to end, as later, the Navy brought in Filipino gook barbers to take over the two barber shops. I am sure, eventually, the Filipino gooks took over the entire operations of the Manicani Naval ship repair base, and American taxpayers are still footing the bill. After all of these Filipino gook barbers replaced the Navy’s White barbers, I was transferred to the tanker Monongahela (which fueled other ships at Manila and Subic bays after VJ Day. Once I got aboard the tanker Monongahela, I checked on the status of the barber that was then serving on that ship. I found out he had quite a few points toward getting a discharge. Meanwhile I was assigned to the chief petty officer’s dining room, just off of the main mess-hall. This was an easy job most of the time, except the times when several chief petty officers got together in the chief petty officer’s dining room, and played cards into the early morning hours, and the next morning I would find their dining room a mess, with cigarette buts all over the place and several dirty dishes along with a dirty coffee pot. Right away, I had to clean the place up and set the table home-style for breakfast. I had to wash and clean the vacuum-style coffee maker, and then brew a new pot of coffee. After that I had to go to the main mess-hall, and fill up large home-style serving dishes of each item on the ship’s menu, and set the chief’s table home-style with all the needed utensils like knives, forks and spoons. There were usually four chiefs to set the table for. Some times there were less, and sometimes there were more. If there were more, that was their problem, for when I had set their table for four, I went to the main mess-hall to get my own meal, whether morning, noon or evening.

Finally, the day came when the operating barber aboard the Monongahela got his notice that he was going to be discharged. Then I found out that there was another Navy man aboard that was also petitioning for the position of being the new authorized barber. So one of the officers aboard suggested a contest to see which one of us would get the job. One of the senior officers aboard the Monongahela was formerly an experienced barber in civilian life, and he would make the final decision as to which one of us would get the position of barber to take the place of the former ship’s barber who was going to be discharged. Both of us competing for the job were instructed to find a shipmate who would volunteer to have his hair cut, to see which of us were the better of the two applicants. So, I was chosen first to demonstrate my skills at barbering. When I was through cutting my volunteer’s hair, the officer overseeing the contest showed me one place where the hair could have been cut a little differently. I took his constructive criticism happily. After me, the other shipmate demonstrated his barbering skills. When the barbering contest was finished, I was appointed as the official barber aboard the Monongahela.

Barbering aboard ship was altogether different than barbering at Manicani. Tipping was less often and in smaller amounts. Although the tipping was less, I was getting enough spending money so I didn’t have to draw on any of my regular Navy pay. Being the ship I was on was a tanker, we often tied up with other ships (taking on fuel or fueling other ships), and if it was a merchant ship with no barber, many of the merchant sailors would come aboard to get a free haircut. Also there were a few negroes aboard the Monongahela, and I was responsible for cutting their hair. I quickly found out that it is next to impossible to draw a comb through their hair. So about the only thing a barber can do is jab the points of the teeth of the comb into the mass of hair and then lift a little and run the clippers over the surface of the comb. It’s kind of like trimming the hedge around one’s home.

Later on in the early 1960s, I owned and managed my own barber shop in Fostoria, Ohio, when suddenly I received a notice from the Ohio State Barber Board, that any licensed barber who refused to cut a negro’s hair would be prosecuted. To scare all of the Ohio barbers and beauticians into compliance, a law case was brought against a Lima, Ohio beautician for not giving service to an n-word, whereupon the judge awarded the n-word the beautician’s business lock, stock and barrel. Before this, in 1949, I worked the second chair in a two-chair barbershop in Bowling Green, Ohio, right across the street from the Bowling Green State University. One day, the Bowling Green State University sent one of its officials to the owner-manager Melvin Munn, to request that his shop (which included me) would start cutting the hair of the n-words attending the university. Neither Melvin nor I were very enthusiastic about the idea, but the officer from the university had a tone of threatened law action in his request. Melvin and I talked this situation over, and not wanting to see Melvin sued, I told him I had cut some n-word’s hair in the Navy, and if he could handle it, I could grudgingly go along. After about three months, I found a different job of barbering, and left the n-words behind.

Getting back to barbering aboard the Monongahela in 1945, when I became the official barber, and took over the barber shop, evidently the barbers before me were issued several different barber tools with which I was not yet familiar. There were three heavy duty motor-driven Oster clippers, and a large selection of snap-on clipper blades. This was of great help, as with these blades of various thickness, I could then do a lot of the more tedious areas of the haircut by gauging rather than free hand. Not long after becoming the barber aboard the Monongahela, the straight razor that I had purchased from that jew barber at Manicani wore out and would no longer take an edge, with no place handy to buy another. So I took a Schick injector safety razor and fastened an injector blade on each end of where the blade was usually injected. Actually, this worked better than a straight razor because I didn’t have to worry about honing or stropping a straight razor. It just took a little getting used to.

Things went along quite well on the Monongahela, except my sleeping quarters were quite warm, and I kept breaking out in a heat rash. I then decided to find a folding cot, and sleep in the barber shop where there was a large electric fan. Then I had occasion to be on the main top deck of the ship at night, and as soon as the sun went down, it got nice and cool, without any insects around. I even needed to cover myself with a blanket up there. I did this for several months, and no one ever gave me hell for doing it, and there was a super-deck directly above, where all of the officers could see me the next morning.

Before I left the Monongahela, the Navy had scheduled it for an extra voyage to Japan, China, India, and Arabia and then back to San Diego, California, where I would be discharged from the Navy. They wanted me to sign up for this extended trip, but I refused. After I had refused to sign up for this extended voyage, I was transferred to an island which was an installation for Navy personnel to gather and await a ship to return back to the United States to be discharged. This installation was no small complex. Evidently, this base had been used to receive service personnel from the United States who were then assigned to ships and other battle areas during the war. In a central location, at this redistribution center, they posted huge lists naming certain men to be assigned to a certain troop ship to be returned State-side. Day after day I would check these lists, but to no avail. It seemed like they might never get a ship to take me to State-side, and the days seemed to drag on endlessly. But, after a long wait, one day I checked the lists, and my name was on one of the lists, and I would be going State-side. After boarding this troop ship, I was amazed at how many Navy men they crammed into it. For instance, when it was time to go to the mess-hall, one was in danger of being crushed to death before one could get something to eat. Anyway the good thing about the ship (and I don’t remember its name), it was much faster than the J. Franklin Bell. What a lot us did for a pass-time on the way to the states, was to sit or lay on the deck during the day, to try to get a good suntan. Some of us ended up getting a sunburn instead. When we got close to California in the summer of 1946, we could see the Golden Gate bridge in the distance, and knew we would be docking somewhere in the San Francisco area. When we finally docked, to my surprise, they had a band to welcome us home. There was no long hair on the men in that band, they were all clean-cut, and it was not a military but a civilian band, although they did wear a band uniform of some type. After we left the ship, we were again housed on Treasure Island, half way between San Francisco and Oakland, California. On a short 12 hour leave, I ventured into San Francisco, and stopped into a restaurant and ordered a hot cup of cocoa, and a sandwich with bacon, lettuce, and a large slice of fresh ripe tomato. I didn’t know much about Yahweh’s food laws in those days. I hadn’t eaten any fresh ripe tomatoes for about two years, and this was a real treat. The tomatoes of today are nothing like the tomatoes we had back then, as the mad-jew scientists have spliced a fish gene to the DNA of the modern common tomato. We call these gene splicings, “genetically modified organisms”, or GMOs for short. Try slicing one of today’s tomatoes open and see if you can detect the odor of fish! When one orders a “BLT” today he’s getting a mouth full of garbage, which even a maggot would turn up his nose at.

While being housed at Treasure Island the second time, I met one of the Navy men that was in my original company #2224 at Great Lakes. He was the shortest man in the company, and had some bad news for me. He related to me how the majority of company #2224 had been assigned to the carrier Franklin, which had been a victim of kamikaze Japanese suicide pilots, whereupon a third of the crew of the carrier Franklin were killed. The carrier Franklin did almost sink, and the abandon ship order may have been given, but the engineers in the engine room miraculously got the Franklin’s engines running. At that time the captain of the Franklin became very strict, knowing his crew had experienced the death of many of their shipmates, and he had to do something to revive the spirits of his men. He even ordered them to shine their shoes. The men of the Franklin were able to patch up most of the holes and pump out all of the excess water, and slowly got under way. They steamed back east across the Pacific ocean, entered and proceeded through the Panama Canal to the Gulf of Mexico, and steamed up to New York City where they received a heroes’ ticker-tape parade. At this point the carrier Franklin was so damaged that all they could do was to scrap it. I have somewhere in my possession a picture of the entire Navy company #2224, and have to wonder at times how many of them were killed on the Franklin. Had I not known to some extent the International Morse code on my Navy IQ test, I might have been on the carrier Franklin with them. So I guess it was a blessing to have contracted scarlet fever and be assigned to signal school. Sometimes I get the feeling the reason I contracted scarlet fever was to keep me alive so I could teach Christian Israel Identity for the last seventeen years.

At this time, we were about to embark upon the last leg of our journey from Treasure Island in San Francisco bay to the Great Lakes Training Center in northern Illinois. For this, we were transferred from Treasure Island to an awaiting troop train. This troop train was made up of passenger cars used to transport troops in WW I. We Navy men didn’t seem to care about the lack of luxury, as each mile along the way was one mile closer to home. This troop train was a little slow, but didn’t get sidetracked very often. This troop train trip was quite uneventful, and I don’t remember of anyone complaining about the food. At last, we arrived at Great Lakes and were temporarily quartered a couple of days before we were processed out of the Navy.

This processing out of the Navy turned out to be more extensive than I thought it might be. I don’t remember, but I am sure they gave us one last general physical by a doctor, so no one could blame the Navy for discharging a sick or ailing person. Then there was some picture taking, and we were given an identity card verifying the fact that we had been in the Navy, along with our rank. Then there was the all important granting of the discharged with an Honorable Discharge. Then we were herded into a room (a group at a time) and were given a speech on how fortunate we were, for there were those who were not so fortunate. One of the big events upon discharge, we would receive our last pay check. Inasmuch as I had purposely not withdrawn any of my Navy pay for a year and several months, I received a sizable last pay check. We were also issued an allowance to get the rest of the way home. For me that allowance covered my trolley-line ride into the center of Chicago, to get a cab to the B&O railroad station, and buy a ticket which would take me directly to Fostoria, Ohio, where I was once more a civilian.

At this point in my story, I have discovered that I have accidentally omitted telling my experiences in the hospital at the Great Lakes Training Center with scarlet fever. I did explain how difficult it was to get the Navy’s sickbay to recognize that in fact I did have scarlet fever, which would normally have taken about three weeks to run its course, but I ended up seven weeks in that hospital. I will explain all of that in the next lesson. It seems that in my life, I have always had an uphill battle in most everything I attempt to do. Even getting into this Christian Israel Identity Message has been an uphill battle.

Looking back at the situation, I often consider how foolish I was to join the Navy, especially when one considers that it was an Edomite-jewish contrived war. However, had I not joined the Navy when I did, it is a damn sure fact that I would have been drafted into the Army to serve in the unlawful Untied (jew-nited) Nations no win war in Korea. On the other hand, looking back at the situation, I wouldn’t change any thing in my entire life, for I was blessed with a very beautiful wife with blond hair and blue eyes, with Christian intentions, and wasn’t one to try to climb the social ladder. She had all of the excellent qualities that a man could want in a help mate, and more. Had my life been any different than it was, chances are I would have never found her. Looking back, I have no regrets for joining the Navy, as it allowed me to experience many things that would prepare me for the Christian Israel Identity ministry which I have been doing for the last seventeen years.

By joining the Navy, it took me to the Philippine Islands, and I can assure the reader I have absolutely no desire to return. If I lost anything there, I’m sure as hell not going to return to try to find it!

This is my two hundred and seventh monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last lesson, WTL #206, I explained how I contracted scarlet fever, and when I went to sickbay they couldn’t diagnose it. I will repeat here what I said in WTL #205: By this time I was becoming quite desperate, and decided to return to sickbay a fourth time. I began to realize that I was running a much higher temperature than they were getting at sickbay, as walking a third of a mile in zero degree weather was dropping my body temperature. This time, while walking to sickbay, I made up my mind I was going to watch every move they made, to see if I could get some attention. After entering sickbay once more, I had to get into that same line leading to some male medical assistants, where they would check some of the basic bodily functions. This time I noticed they were giving some of the men going through the line a slip of paper, and those men would in turn then go to another line and would be seen by a fullfledged doctor; so after I was given another light duty bunk exemption, I went over to the doctor’s line, and I had to stand in that line quite some time. I was the last one in line, so when I finally got to a doctor, I told him, ‘I don’t have a slip to see you, but I am sick!’ Right away he asked me to expose my stomach, and he replied, “You have scarlet fever! Go over here in this side room where there is a couch, and you may lie down and rest until the ambulance arrives to take you to the main hospital”! I didn’t realize it at the time, but I would spend seven weeks at that hospital, and it would become yet another major turning point in my life.

What I omitted to tell my readers is why my stay at the Naval hospital turned out to be seven weeks, which I will now proceed to tell:

Since I was sick with the scarlet fever for several days in my barracks, and then treated for three weeks at the Great Lakes Naval hospital, plus another four weeks due to a relapse, my suffering from catching scarlet fever would total about eight weeks in all in order to return to my company fully cured.

After completing the normal three weeks in the hospital, it appeared that the scarlet fever had fully run its course. And I was quite excited to get out of the hospital by then. So I decided to go into the shower room and have a nice warm shower. However, I began to feel faint, and felt like I might fall on my face. I cut the shower short and returned to my hospital bed, and also reported to the nurse what had happened in the shower room. After checking my vital signs, here came the nurse with a syringe nearly full of penicillin. Penicillin was new at the time, and not yet given to the civilian population. It must have cost the Navy a fortune for the one hundred shots they injected into me. My back side was becoming somewhat of a pin cushion. I was counting the shots, and I decided when they came to one hundred and one, I was going to refuse it. They did finally come to the hundredth shot, but surprisingly stopped at that point. After a period of time they seemed to begin to have some concern about my case, and moved me from the ward area into a semiprivate room. I didn’t have very much pain, and I was resting and eating well. Then one night, in the middle of the night, I got a cramp with excruciating pain to the point that I could only scream at the top of my voice. They put out an emergency call for a doctor. Finally, after he arrived in about a half of an hour, my pain was declining, and I apologized to the doctor for making such a scene. I don’t remember whether or not he gave me any medication, but I relaxed and went to sleep. A few days later, there was an abscess forming about the size of a chicken egg under my right arm pit, and it became more and more pronounced. The doctor then scheduled me for an operation to drain the abscess. A couple of days later they came and got me, and took me to an operating room. They gave me some anesthetic, and told me to count to fifteen. I remember counting to seven, and that was all I could remember until the anesthetic started to wear off. I woke up with a large draining tube in my arm, and they left it there for about five days. They finally removed the draining tube and closed up the hole that it left. By this time my weight was down to about one hundred and thirty pounds, where I normally weighed about 150 to 155 pounds.

By this time, I couldn’t return to my old company, so they assigned me to a new boot company. Because of this extended time in the hospital, I missed out on some of my basic training, gunnery in particular, and there were a lot of guns on those war ships. Maybe they thought a signal-man wouldn’t need gunnery training, as signaling would become my battle station. Anyway, haphazardly, I finished up my basic boot training. At the end of the basic training, every trainee was given a two-week leave to go home. So, I went home, with my Navy clothing nearly slipping off of my body at 130 pounds. I really needed that two weeks of leave to rest up, and gain back some of the weight I had lost.

After my two weeks of leave ended, and I had gained some of my strength back, I returned to the Great Lakes Naval Training Center, to take special training to be a signal-man. I was scheduled to have been trained to be a radio signal-man, but they changed my occupational designation from radio signal-man to semaphore and flashing light signal-man. What I had practiced before entering the Navy was the International Morse code, which I wanted in order to become a short-wave ham radio operator, so I was quite disappointed with the Navy’s change of venue. The big difference between these types of signaling are with the radio signaling, one can listen to the audio code being sent, and write it down without taking his eyes off of the paper he is writing the message on, whereas with the semaphore and flashing light signal-man, one must concentrate on the visual signal being sent, and blindly write the message on a pad, hoping somehow it would be readable. If, however, one has a good peripheral vision, one might be able to read the incoming signal with his side vision, while simultaneously, with one’s direct vision writing down on a pad the message being sent. Not only that, with semaphore, the message being received is opposite to the message being sent.

Be this as it may, the course of WW II was about to change. I had been in the Navy hospital most of January and February of 1945, and was given a two week leave after that. I had only been in signal school a few short weeks, when V-E Day took place May 8, 1945, and the need for Navy specialists was drastically reduced, and I was one of those to be reassigned to regular duty. Because the fortunes of war had changed so drastically, the Navy seemed to be at a loss as to where they would reassign us, as there was a question of how long the war with Japan would last. Some estimates were as high as eight to ten years, and I had signed up for the duration! Those of us who were reassigned to regular duty were still at Great Lakes when V-J Day came along August 15, 1945, the day that Japan surrendered. With WW II over, this again caused the armed forces to reevaluate whom to send where and when.

The details above fill in the blank spaces of my hospital experience at the Great Lakes Training Center which I neglected to explain before, plus my short-lived experience at the Great Lakes signal school, up until the war’s end in 1945. I have already expounded upon the rest of my experiences in the Navy up until my discharge in July of 1946, when I found myself nineteen years old living with my father and mother, anticipating what I might do next.

After WW II, there were many difficulties getting back into civilian life. For instance, it was next to impossible to buy a new car. I remember signing a list of potential buyers at the local Chevrolet dealer, and I was informed it might be some time before a new car would become available. I checked the list from time to time, and it seemed that instead of getting higher on the list, I was getting lower. It was the same story at all of the automobile dealerships. I have realized since, that unless you were well connected, like the Masons, or a dozen other service clubs, one might have to pay a few hundred dollars under the table, then one might get a new car. Otherwise, the only alternative was to buy an overused, misused, prewar junker that would eat one up financially just to maintain. I considered buying a motorcycle, but I soon gave up on that idea. I finally had to settle on a junker, and it did indeed cost me a fortune to keep it mechanically reliable, besides body work and painting. In those days, after 40 to 50 thousand miles, the engine was ready for a complete overhaul. I would learn later, when I got married, the same situation existed in housing, and ended up buying a 25 foot mobile-home (which included the tongue of the trailer), and we lived in it for three years. At the trailer park, the only utilities we had were water and electricity, plus a field drain for the kitchen sink, and when we had to use the rest room there was a combined central toilet, shower and laundry room, so it required a lot of coordination by everyone. (I’m getting ahead of my story.)

With my experiences in the Navy, I could pursue the trade of barbering or learn better the art of working with sheet metal. At first, I just wanted to take a vacation from what I had been through, and just take it easy for a while. The state did allow someone coming out of the service to collect unemployment compensation temporarily, so I took advantage of that. For a while, I resisted the idea of becoming a barber in civilian life because of how the cut particles of hair would collect in my clothing, irritating me until I could take a shower as soon as possible after the day’s work came to an end. Also, in my immediate area the sheet-metal trade was mostly a family business, and if one was not part of the family, the chances of getting into the trade were slim to nil.

When in the navy, two of my assigned duties were as barber in a 12-chair shop on the island of Manicani (a ship repair base) in the Philippines, and later as the lone barber aboard the tanker Monongahela (which fueled other ships at Manila and Subic bays after VJ Day). After being discharged and working at various jobs I didn’t much care for, I entered barber school in February of 1947. Neither Ohio, nor any of the states recognized any barber experience one might have had in the armed forces. I figured that anything was better than working in a ketchup factory, so I signed up at Andrew’s Barber College, under the G.I. Bill, and I was supposed to receive a small sum each month for living expenses. I found out that the Veteran’s Administration was about five months behind on their paper work, so I had to find parttime work in Toledo to cover my everyday expenses.

I found a part-time job at the Franklin Ice Cream company that had several stores throughout the city. I didn’t know from one week to another which store I would be working in next. Even with that insignificant income, I had to find low rent housing. I did find a large house divided into several bedroom and bathroom accommodations, with a small table and a couple of chairs that I could afford. After moving in, when getting up in the morning and turning on the faucet in the bathroom sink, I was startled when some cockroaches started to come up through the drain pipe. I don’t remember just what I did, but I think I may have turned on the hot water full blast and flushed them back down the drain pipe. This seemed to keep them away for a few days, but every once in a while they would return, and I would repeat the hot water blast back down the drain. I made up my mind to find other housing as soon as possible! Before I did so, one weekend I was running quite low on money, and I had less than two dollars. Andrew’s Barber College was directly across Summit street from a meat cutting school, so I went over there and purchased a small hunk of bologna; a small loaf of sliced bread; and a small jar of mustard, and that was all I had to eat for two or three days. At barber school, I started to inquire from the other students where they were housed, and how long it would be until they would be returning to their home town, and if I could possibly rent that accommodation when they left. I then asked one of the barber students who happened to be from Fostoria, Ohio like myself, and he was leaving in a couple of weeks. He then gave me the address, and the name of the woman, Mrs. Wicks, to whom I would speak. As it turned out, she was quite an old lady, and she subsidized her pension by boarding students from the Barber College. Actually, she had enough room to board two students at a time, and she had room for me and another student, if I could find one. I found another barber student by the name of Thomas Mock from Kenton, Ohio who needed a room, and we moved in with Mrs. Wicks right away. After two weeks, when Mrs. Wicks decided she could trust us, she gave us kitchen privileges, but she was quite strict that once the meal was finished, no one would rest until all the dishes and pans were washed, dried, and put away. Actually, Mrs. Wicks was quite happy with me, as she had no automobile, and I could take her to the grocery store on my off hours, and run some of her other errands.

Finally, after five months at the Andrew’s Barber College, I got a belated sizable check from the Veteran’s Administration to help cover my cost of living, which was part of the G.I. Bill. That belated check called for a belated shopping trip, for I was badly in need of some new clothing. I finished my six months course in August of 1947 at the Barber College, and I returned back home to my parents in Fostoria. The next step was to go before the Ohio State Barber Board, to take tests for barbering expertise, plus an oral and written examination. And if I passed these tests, I would receive my State of Ohio Apprentice Barber License, for which I was required to work under master barbers for at least eighteen months, whereupon, I could take another test for a master’s license. After a few days, I received my apprentice barber’s license.

I got my first substantial barbering job in Tiffin, Ohio, in September of that same year, and met a very beautiful young lady in December by the name of Trillis (Tillie) Almina Moehlman and married her on August 29, 1948. And if there was ever a marriage arranged by the Almighty, this was one. Tillie, like Edith Kindig, started to smooth out some of my less-than-refined mannerisms.

Tillie had a very fine Christian grandmother, and she wanted to be just like her, so we were converted and started attending my family’s Evangelical Church. Little did I know then that about 25 years later I would be given the Israel Identity Message, and when I came home one evening, I would have the privilege of telling her we were Israelites, and she never gave me any argument in return. But I’m getting ahead of my story.

Just how I was introduced to Tillie is an intricate story in itself. It all started in the month of November of 1947. One Saturday evening, after I had finished a long day’s work at Brimner and Borer’s barbershop in Tiffin, Ohio (and in those days the barbers worked quite late, sometimes even up until one or two o’clock Sunday morning, in order for the customer to get as fresh a shave as possible to attend church services early Sunday morning). This particular Saturday evening I probably got off work a little earlier than usual, about 8 P.M. After getting paid for my week of work and driving back to Fostoria, it was probably close to 9 P.M. and it was pitch dark, and the Fall leaves were a foot or so deep in some places. After I had entered Fostoria a few blocks, I had to make a left-hand turn off south Poplar street onto east Center street where the leaves were so deep, I couldn’t see where the curbs of the street were, and the street lighting was quite inadequate at that corner. As it turned out, I misjudged where the curb was and the back right wheel hit a steel drainage opening on the corner which was the same height as the curb. Needless to say, that simply ruined that tire. Because I had insufficient light, I could barely see well enough to open the trunk and unfasten the spare tire, get out the screw-style jack, and get my 1934 Hudson Terriplane coup jacked up high enough to change wheels. The spare tire wasn’t all that good, so the only thing I could do was buy a new tire.

Well, in 1947, the price for a haircut was one dollar in Tiffin, Ohio, and I was working on commission at 70% of my sales. My pay for that particular week was about forty dollars. I knew that the Barns’ Sunoco station was still open, and I knew Lester quite well. The cost of the new tire turned out to be about $20 (more or less), including mounting, which took about half of my pay. The next day was Sunday, and I wasn’t much of a churchgoer, but with nothing else to do, and for no particular reason, I decided the go to my family’s church just to pass the time. When I arrived there, the Sunday school superintendent was making a plea to get enough donations to buy a new piano, as the old one was beyond repair. After hearing his plea, I decided after the service was over, I would donate fifteen dollars towards that new piano. I thought (what the hell), I’m nearly broke anyway, I might as well be all the way broke. All I had left was about five or six dollars, just enough for gasoline to drive back and forth to Tiffin, and enough to eat a roll or two and coffee each morning for breakfast, and a hamburger and a milkshake for lunch each day. I don’t remember any of the particulars during this following week, but I don’t remember going hungry, or running out of gas, or blowing out another tire.

The following Sunday, I again found nothing else to do, so again I went to church just to pass the time. When I attended church, I usually found a folding chair and sat behind the last row of pews all by myself. This Sunday I did the same, and I was in a perfect position to get a view that would change the rest of my life. The service had already started, and I noticed with my right side vision the shadow of a party who was moving through the vestibule. Immediately three people entered the main auditorium walking down the right aisle. These three people were Johnny Crabtree, a lady with blond hair, followed by Marie Crabtree. Johnny was looking for some empty seats, but all he could find for three people were in the center of the pews. Johnny finally found a pew with space for three people. So Johnny turned around and beckoned for the lady with blond hair, and his wife Marie, to shuffle their way into that empty space. As the lady with blond hair had to turn sideways, I got a good view of her face and the shape of her body, and her beautiful appearance took away my breath, for she was the very image of my dreams. I didn’t pray in those days, but I silently talked to myself saying, “Clifton, you will never in this world find a lady that beautiful!” And I really believed I never would. When the service was over, I didn’t stick around to try to meet her. There was a side stairway leading down to ground level, and I was to my car before anyone else left the church, so I didn’t give the lady with blond hair a second thought. About ten days later, on a Wednesday (the barbershops in Tiffin were closed all day on Wednesdays), I was at home (where I was living with my parents) and Marie Crabtree was visiting my mother, when she came into the living room of my parent’s rented apartment where I was, and Marie approached me and asked me “Did you notice the lady that was with us in church the Sunday before last?” And I answered Marie, “Yes”. Marie again asked, “Would you like to meet her?” (At this point, I couldn’t believe that Marie was asking such a question.) I didn’t hesitate a nanosecond; I answered Marie, “Yes, I would!” Marie then offered to have a dinner where Tillie and I could meet. Marie and Tillie both worked at Sears in Fostoria, and it was getting close to the Christmas rush, and Marie had to work the dinner in on a Sunday, when Sears was closed. Checking my electronic calendar for Dec. 1947, I believe the dinner was scheduled for Sunday, the 14th. My dating life had started, and my whole life was being changed for the better.

Finally, Saturday Dec. 13, 1947 rolled around, and when I got back to Fostoria, after working in the barbershop all day, I decided to call the Crabtrees to see if the dinner was still on. Johnny answered the phone and assured me it was still on the docket. However, he said that I could come over to his apartment that evening and meet Tillie, as Marie and Tillie would be getting off of work around 9:30 P.M. So I drove over to Johnny’s apartment and waited for Marie and Tillie. After that weekend, it was a date four to six times a week, or whenever we could get our two schedules to agree. I wanted ever-so-much for Tillie to marry me, but I was afraid she might say “no” but I finally got up the courage to ask Tillie to marry me and to my surprise, she said “yes”. We set the date for the wedding to take place on August 29, 1948, when we took our vows.

Tillie’s father had died when she was about three years old, and her mother was left a widow to raise six children, and also had the responsibility for the keep of Tillie’s aged grandmother during the great depression of 1929 to about 1940, when the United States was gearing up for WW II. Actually, Tillie was born in 1929. This meant that Tillie’s mother couldn’t afford to give her an elaborate wedding, so Tillie was picking up all of the expense for her marriage to me. It just so happened that one of my customers at Brimner and Borer’s barbershop in Tiffin, Ohio offered to do the wedding photography free of charge, just to get the experience for doing so, as he planned to make photography his occupation. Our wedding would not be a very fancy one, but it turned out to be a very respectful wedding, with little lacking. One thing Tillie wanted, and she picked up the bill for doing so, was to have her picture taken by a professional photographer in order to use it in the local newspaper to announce our upcoming wedding. For this picture, Tillie purchased a new Revised Standard Version Bible, with a zipper to accompany the wedding gown she would be married in. Evidently, Tillie wanted to send a signal to everyone that her marriage to me was going to be a Christian marriage, although neither Tillie nor I fully understood just what being a Christian entailed. But we would learn the significance of being a Christian later in our marriage when we finally understood the message of Christian Israel Identity.

This new Revised Standard Version zipper Bible that Tillie purchased had a very excellent rendering of 1st Peter 2:9.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”

After Tillie died of cancer September 16, 1993, I was sorting through some of her specially treasured belongings. Among these items was a very small piece of paper with this passage at 1st Peter 2:9 typed on it, exactly as above. Evidently, the church that Tillie was attending Sunday School at was getting ready to have a special Sunday School program by the children for the adults, so they could observe some of the things the Sunday School children were learning. Further, it is evident that someone had typed out several Bible verses on a letter size sheet of paper, and then cut out each verse with a pair of scissors, and gave a verse to each Sunday School student to memorize so they could recite that Bible verse at the special Sunday School program for the adults to enjoy.

Knowing these two incidents happened in Tillie’s life, it is hard for me to believe they were simply happenstance (happening due to chance), or merely a coincidence. After Tillie died, and upon finding this verse which she had memorized, I wasn’t sure which Bible translation rendered the Greek genos as “race” rather than “generation”! I searched through several Bible translations to find one that rendered genos as “race”, and it was difficult to find one. I did have The Oxford Annotated Bible, Revised Standard Version, that has the same rendering as above. Anyway, when I was sure that genos should be rendered as “race”, I had 1st Peter 2:9 engraved on our grave stone with the “race” rendering. Actually, it was some years later that I decided to check Tillie’s new Revised Standard Version zipper Bible that she had purchased to carry in her left hand when having her picture taken for her announcement in the newspaper of our wedding.

I have given these two incidents much thought over recent years, and I have come to the conclusion that the Almighty Yahweh brought Tillie to me, and virtually placed her in my lap. Although it was after the fact, I now realize we had something in common that led both of us to the Christian Identity Message. It didn’t happen all at once, but took many years to develop. I really believe, had I never met Tillie, I would have never found Israel Identity. The odd thing about this situation is, Israel Identity found me, and I in turn had to explain it to Tillie, and she gave no resistance to my explanation. I also have to ask the question in my mind: “If Tillie had never met me, would she have ever found Israel Identity on her own prerogative?” Without each other, it is doubtful whether either one of us would have discovered the Israel Identity Message on our own!

Anyway, Tillie and I settled down, living in a house-trailer at the S&S Trailer Park on south Washington street, at the southern edge of Tiffin. In the meantime, Tillie got a job at a clothing store in Tiffin, and that helped out considerably with our finances, helping to make the payments on our house-trailer and other expenses. Along the line, I received a WW II serviceman’s bonus of something like $300, and that helped out even more. All of this was necessary, as working on the third chair in the barbershop didn’t pay all that much money. Usually, when a customer entered the barbershop, he would automatically get into the first barber’s chair, but if the first barber was busy, he would impulsively get into the chair of the second barber. Being I was working the third barber chair, I only got the overflow of customers during busy periods, which didn’t happen very often. During some slow days, I might get as few as 4 or 5 customers. In addition to this, some of the incoming customers would wait until their favorite barber could take them, sometimes waiting an hour or two. This is something I had to put up with, as I knew with my Navy barbering experience behind me that I was turning out haircuts just as good as the other two barbers, but the customers were not aware of that.

After a few months working there, Urban Borer, who worked the second chair, had a serious heart attack and couldn’t return to work for about six months, or maybe a little longer, and suddenly I found myself quite busy. I really didn’t relish gaining by another man’s loss, but this opened the window of opportunity for me to demonstrate to the mistrusting customers that I could turn out high quality work on par with the other two barbers. As long as Urban Borer was gone, his second chair sat there empty, and I continued to use the third chair. Also, while Urban Borer was gone, Dick Brimner’s nature changed in a way that irritated me to no end. Brimner had a few favorite stories he liked to tell his customers, and most of them were on the pornographic side. When we opened the barbershop in the morning, Brimner would tell one of these stories to his very first customer. But it didn’t stop there, for as the day progressed, he would repeat that same story word for word to every single customer that got in his chair all day long. It even got to the place where I dreaded to go to work, as I would wonder with anguish which one of his stories was I going to hear repeated twenty to thirty times that day! The customers seemed to enjoy his stories, but they only had to hear them once. Looking back at this, I can only compare this with Ivan Pavlov’s experiments in torturing dogs. Pavlov managed to drive his dogs senseless, and that is what Dick Brimner was doing to me! After several weeks of this, I got sick enough that my wife had to call the ambulance to take me to the hospital. After a round of tests, my doctor diagnosed my trouble as a bowel obstruction. The doctor didn’t tell me the cause, but later upon researching this sort of thing, I came to the conclusion that my nervous system caused a muscle in the bowel area to contract to the point of pinching off the flow of the bodily waste. I did go back to work, but I knew I had to get away from Dick Brimner. Urban Borer also got well enough to return to his second chair part time, and then eventually full time. While Urban Borer was absent from the shop, many of the regular customers left and went elsewhere, as Brimner and I simply couldn’t take all of them during the rush periods. That meant what was being handled by two barbers, now had to be divided by three.

By this time, I knew I had to find something to do on the side to subsidize my income. When I first started working for Brimner and Borer, I started to take a course in radio and television from the National Radio Institute in Washington, D.C., but at the rate I was going, it might take two or three years to finish. However, an opportunity did come along that I didn’t expect. In the trailer court where Tillie and I were living, a man and his wife in a house-trailer kitty-corner from us were getting ready to move to some distant location, and he had been selling Knapp shoes as a sideline, and he offered the job to me if I would take it over. I decided to take over his business, and I would use the Wednesday (my day off at the barbershop) of each week, and a few evenings, to sell these Knapp shoes. I will never forget the first Wednesday when I started to solicit various segments of the public to make some sales. I stopped by the post office in Tiffin, and found out when and where I could display the case full of right footed shoes, and place my Knapp shoe catalog out for anyone who was interested to leaf through it. I did this, and as the various postmen came in after completing their route, I didn’t so much give them a sales pitch, but just stood back and let them look over the shoes for sale at their leisure. The first thing I knew was I was writing up orders one after another, as fast as I could write. There was one postman in Tiffin that liked his Knapp shoes so well that every time I would meet him, he had the name and address of a person who was also interested in buying a pair. This part time business was doing so well, I decided to expand it to Fostoria, Findlay, and Fremont (for they all had post offices too), and all the little towns in between. Of course, I didn’t overlook stopping at barbershops, as there were days when they spent 10 to 12 hours on their feet.

In order to save my sanity, it was imperative that I get away from Dick Brimner, so I decided to sell Knapp shoes full time. By this time, I had two lines of shoes, and several other clothing items, even made to measure suits for men. And while I did quite well, it wasn’t enough to cover our (my wife and I, that is) expenses.

In covering nearly six Ohio counties with my selling, I became quite familiar with much of the business and client activity. Aware of this, I knew of barbershops that needed to hire a barber. There was a fairly active barbershop in Findlay, Ohio, where one of the barbers had died. I inquired at that shop and was hired. Meanwhile, I heard of a new barbershop that had opened in Bowling Green, Ohio, just across the street from the Bowling Green State University. In past years the barber business was quite active in the summer, then dropping off considerably as the weather cooled. By locating close to a college, it would bring a surge of business to offset the slowdown, so needless to say, I took a job at that Bowling Green shop, but I continued for quite a while selling shoes on my days off, and during the evening hours.

With my occupations of barbering and selling it has taught me how to communicate with people, and that is another faculty needed to spread the Christian Israel Identity Message!

This is my two hundred and eighth monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last letter, WTL #207, I was explaining why it was necessary for me to get away from Dick Brimner, a barber for whom I had formerly worked. He had about two or three dozen of what I considered cute little play-pretty pornographic stories which he repeated word for word twenty to thirty times a day. And this continued day after day, and week after week! Whichever story he started with in the morning, that story would be repeated to each one of his customers throughout that particular day. Had I not cut all ties with him, I would have ended up in an insane asylum.

By chance, I was given the opportunity to sell Knapp shoes on a part time basis, and things went so well I thought I might be able to make a full time business out of it. I finally cut the cord with Brimner and gave it a whirl, but I kept my eye open for where I might find a job in a barbershop that had a very active business. I found a barbering job in Findlay, Ohio that looked promising, and worked there for a while, when I heard of an opportunity in Bowling Green, Ohio, located near the State College, and at that time having such a location was ideal. But after I was at Bowling Green a few months, the State College tried to force us to service negroes (i.e., n-words), and that went against the grain. Right about that same time, a position opened up in Fostoria, Ohio at a two-chair barbershop where an employee barber had quit, and the barber-owner-manager had run for mayor of Fostoria. He won the election, so he would only be barbering half days. That meant I could walk into an already established business and I would have to service a goodly percentage of that traffic flow. Not only that, but I was in my home town! However, in my off hours and evenings, I continued selling Knapp shoes and other items of clothing.

Well, things went along quite well for a while, when suddenly a very severe winter set in. We had so much snow that the city couldn’t keep up with it. Whose fault was it? Of course, it was the mayor’s fault! Additionally, trouble was brewing between the mayor and the owner of the local newspaper. Soon a public cry developed: “mayor Shuman has got to go!” When spring finally came and the frost in the ground began to thaw, there were potholes on every street in town. And again, whose fault was it? Of course it was the mayor’s fault! A woman in town was driving her car down one of those streets with potholes, and evidently she hit a very deep one. She didn’t waste any time coming downtown to the mayor’s barbershop with blood in her eye, and she came right into our shop while we both were servicing customers, and she stationed herself right in front of the mayor’s barber chair pointing her finger and shaking her fist, and yelled at the mayor in no uncertain words, that he should stop cutting hair and go fix that pothole immediately – pronto – right now!

Like I say, there was an underground movement to get rid of mayor Shuman, and his usual faithful customers found it precarious just to be seen entering his barbershop, so on that account many stayed away, not wanting to become unpopular with the rampaging crowd! Needless to say, this had a negative effect on business, but the mayor would still only be working half a day in the barbershop until the first of the year. So what I thought would be a great opportunity turned instead into a great disaster, and this is only half of the story.

Fostoria, Ohio had always been more or less a Republican conservative community, but the owner of the Review-Times newspaper had vengeance on his mind for some reason or another, and backed another prominent Republican Fostoria resident to run for mayor as an independent, which split the Republican-minded Fostoria conservatives at the election, and the Democrat nominee won the mayor’s seat. To say the least, this had a devastating impact on my income from barbering. Fortunately, my wife had taken employment at the local Plymouth-Dodge automobile dealership as secretary, and I was selling two brands of shoes and apparel on my days off and evening hours. When I look back on all of this, I believe that Yahweh wanted me to understand the evil of our present political system, so I could better comprehend the Christian Israel Identity Message that I would be awakened to twenty years later.

At this stage of my life, in 1950, I had three major difficulties in my barbering experience at three different barbershops. (1) having to work with Dick Brimner and listen to his many favorite pornographic stories repeated over and over all day long, week after week. (2) my experience at Bowling Green, Ohio, where the Bowling Green State University applied undue legal pressure to force Melvin Munn and myself to cut the hair of negroes (i.e., n-words), or be sued, and (3) working at a barbershop where the slightest political unpopularity could spell disaster to one’s income. After all of this, the memory of working at Douglas Aircraft in Long Beach, California in the summer of 1944 attracted me to return there, as the work there was enjoyable and the pay was substantial. After a very cold winter in Ohio, I looked forward to a milder climate.

I talked this matter over with my wife, Tillie, and she agreed to start making provisions to make the move to California. This meant that we would sell our house-trailer, and keep only the belongings we could pack into the trunk and back seat of our 1949 Buick. We advertised the house-trailer in the local paper, and only got one serious offer from the Ney Implement dealer. We bought the trailer in the fall of 1948, and had purchased it new for approximately $2,100, and we hated to take that much loss. We thought it over, and proposed that if Mr. Ney would pay his offered price, and would write an agreement that later we could buy $1,000 worth of his Frigidair appliances at wholesale, we would accept the offer. He agreed, and the California move was ready to be expedited by January, 1951.

So, remembering how much I liked working for Douglas Aircraft, in 1951 my wife and I moved to Long Beach where again I got a job. Edith Kindig had died and Frank remarried; and then Frank also died. We rented one of the apartments which Frank had built many years before, right behind his home, and his third wife was living in Frank’s home at the time. Looking back, I now feel that it was necessary for Yahweh to keep my uncle and myself separated in order to break his flawed religious influence over me, for he could have been instrumental in preventing me from accepting Israel Identity. I hate to think of what might have happened had Yahweh not kept us apart at that critical time.

Not long after this we got word that my grandfather (Merrill’s father) back in Ohio, Art Keiser, had a stroke. Grandpa regained consciousness maybe three times, but died after about two weeks in that condition. Upon his father’s death, uncle Merrill nearly lost his mind. Not only was he in deep mental shock, but he became physically ill. His right arm started to become numb and he couldn’t do his job, and it was difficult for him to remain employed to support his family. This continued for months, maybe over a year. I wasn’t in Ohio to observe all of this, but I learned the story years later.

When my wife and I arrived in Long Beach, California in 1951, I found things to be quite different than when I had been there in 1944. In 1944 I had worked with Rosie-the-riveter, and a nicer group of females could not be found. Douglas Aircraft at Long Beach was no small place; my employee I.D. number in 1951 was 32823; it was comparable to a city. By 1951 the morals of the workers had lowered considerably. Usually on Monday morning the talk of the assembly area was who ran off to Mexico with whose wife and got a quick divorce and remarried there, which was considered legal at that time, and usually the unsuspecting heartbroken parties were at their jobs grieving. When I worked for Douglas in 1944, I don’t remember seeing one mexican (purposely lower case) on the job. But by 1951, Douglas was bringing them into their work-force. At that time, I really didn’t realize the seriousness of bringing these mexicans in to take our jobs, but I surely have grasped the problem since! In 1944 there was no problem with smog, but by 1951 it was thick enough to irritate one’s eyes almost continually. In 1944, on a sunny day, it was no problem seeing Catalina Island from Long Beach, but not in 1951. Strangely though, we had two, three and four day long weekends at Memorial Day and the Fourth of July, and of course people got in their cars and drove all over the place, and the smog cleared both times, and for about three days after those weekends, Catalina Island was visible. So that kind of blows away the auto-emission theory. When I was driving back to Long Beach from Big Bear lake on one of those long weekends, I could see those clouds of smog lifting out of the valley below and going up over the tops of the mountains.

My conclusion at that time, not knowing anything about the great Edomite-jewish conspiracy or Christian Israel Identity, was that the smog was being caused by heavy industry rather than auto-emission. I have since learned that the Edomite-jews were/are using air pollution as an excuse to send the major portion of our American jobs to third world, nonwhite alien lands. Looking back at this, I now realize that the Almighty led me to California just to observe this smog related phenomenon. I can’t prove it, but I suspect that the Edomite-jews through their managerial sabotage within our heavy industry, were purposely manipulating various manufacturing processes to increase the pollutants in the air, both domestic and foreign, rather than trying to reduce it! That is why our “steel belt” turned into a “rust belt”! That also is why America sends vast amounts of American coal to China, so the Chinese can increase the planet’s air pollution worldwide!

Everything about my job at Douglas Aircraft was going just fine. I was quickly recognized by the foremen for my high quality work, and they began to advance me to jobs that required greater skill. My last advancement put me on a job where there was little room for error, where the slightest slip could cost the company thousands of dollars. I am sure, had I stayed with Douglas, I would have eventually become one of their lead men. My job designation was a “hot dimpler”, and if the dimple was formed too hot, in flight the rivet might pop out, weakening the structure of the aircraft. If the dimple was formed too cold, the dimple would crack, and in flight the wing or body panel would start tearing like a sheet of paper from the normal vibrations of the aircraft. When some new people were assigned to the hot dimpling process, a panel might be put into the hot dimpler up-side-down, and that panel had to be scrapped, wasting hundreds of hours of drilling holes from a master steel-gig to be dimpled. Sometimes these cracked dimples could only be detected with a high-powered magnifying glass, and sometimes by applying acid to the surface of the dimple. In order to get the right temperature when operating one of these dimpling machines, the operator had a chart to set a timer depending on the gauge of the aluminum, the size of the hole, or whether it was a flush rivet hole or a flush machine screw hole. It was also necessary to change the hot dies according to the several applications. The operator would slide the panel with the outside up until it dropped inside a male die guide. When secured, the hot dimple die would drop to the surface of the aluminum, where it would preheat the aluminum to the proper temperature to be dimpled, at which time full hydraulic pressure was applied to the aluminum panel to form the needed dimple. There was a time chart at each hot dimple machine to determine the time needed for this preheating; based on the gauge of the aluminum, the size of the hole, and the application. Because this job was so precise, the Douglas Aircraft company did not rush the hot dimplers for a high quantity of production, but gave the operator all the time he needed to get the job done right.

Because so many things could go wrong, I took my time on setting up the dimpling machine for each application. Before I pressed the button to bring the hot dimpling die down to the surface of the aluminum, I would review all of various factors which determined the correct settings over and over again, maybe four, five or six times. And on an average of about once an hour, I would take a break and go across the aisle and get a coke from a coke machine. It was one of those coke machines where one would insert his coin and an eight ounce dixie-cup would drop down and the machine would fill the cup.

After a few weeks of this, I started to develop a severe burning in my urinary tract that felt like fire. At that time, I was not familiar with many health issues, so I went to a doctor in Long Beach. He treated me for a urinary infection, and gave me either an ultrasound or infrared treatment (I don’t remember which), but it made the burning worse rather than better. Week by week the burning became worse, and the doctor wasn’t getting to the cause of the problem. I knew if we could get back to our doctor in Tiffin, Ohio, our doctor there could diagnose what the problem was. I hated to quit my job at Douglas, as the pay was better than what I had received at barbering, and the work at Douglas was pleasant compared to other kinds of factories. But looking back to California, and how it has since been overrun by mexicans, it was for the better that we came back to Ohio.

When my wife and I were packing our belongings into our 1949 Buick to return to Ohio, I asked my wife to bake some cake to eat along the way, which she did. This way we could pick up a quart of milk to drink with the cake when we got hungry. They didn’t have a lot of fast food joints in those days, and in the western states, what few restaurants there were, they were quite high with their prices. Anyway, with this change of diet, by the time we reached Ohio the burning in my urinary tract had almost cleared up. Later, my doctor in Tiffin, Ohio gave me some medicine made out of cranberries, which turned my urine from acid to alkaline and solved my problem. However, our doctor at Tiffin didn’t explain to us what was causing the high acid urine. I would learn that many years later. All along, it was phosphoric acid from that damn coke machine!

One good thing our moving to California did for my wife and I; it separated us for a while from my uncle Merrill Keiser in Fremont, Ohio who was an avid believer in futurism and the so-called rapture. In addition he was taking up pentecostalism, with their speaking in tongues, along with multiculturalism, promoted by the one-eyed nigger, William J. Seymour and the Azusa Street revival in Los Angeles, California. I don’t think my uncle was aware of the William J. Seymour connection. I will admit, however, that it took me several years to get rid of all of the bad influences and false perceptions that my uncle had instilled into my thinking. I never did, though, fall for his tongue-wagging, insane, idiotic madness!

Anyway, it was back to Ohio for my wife and I, for better or for worse. As it turned out, Almighty Yahweh had another important lesson for me to learn before I would eventually be awakened to the Christian Israel Identity Message. On reentering Ohio, my wife and I temporarily moved in with my father and mother in Fostoria, Ohio. It was imperative that I find a job and a place to live as soon as possible, but I hardly had any idea where to start. I knew it would be best to get a barbering job in a college town, so I investigated any opportunities in Bowling Green, Ohio again, where the Bowling Green State University was located. I hadn’t forgotten how the Bowling Green State University illegally forced Melvin Munn and myself to cut the hair of the negroes (i.e., n-words), and evidently that drove Munn out of business in the Bowling Green area. Apparently, the Bowling Green State University didn’t try that stunt again on another barbering establishment in Bowling Green, as all they accomplished was to put Melvin Munn out of business! When inquiring about a barbering job in Bowling Green, I was told that the Hotel Barber Shop needed a barber, as one of the four barbers had committed suicide. Well, life must go on, so I took the job. Fortunately it was September, and the college students were rolling in, causing an increase in business, where in most non-college localities the barber business was slowing down. And even though I was working the fourth chair, I was getting my share of the customers. I soon found an apartment, and my wife and I moved to Bowling Green, where my wife’s hometown of Rudolph was only six miles away.

Looking back at the situation, I now realize that not only did Yahweh want to teach me a lesson to prepare me for the Christian Israel Identity Message, but He also wanted to place me where I would learn two important techniques in barbering that would keep me competitive in the barber trade through the most difficult times.

In the 1950s the flattop hair style for men was all the rage, and about 90% of the male college students were demanding them, and few were the barbers who could master them. Some barbers would use profane language under their breath every time they got a customer who wanted a flattop. For some reason the barber working the first chair at the Hotel Barber Shop, Warren Bassett, had no problem cutting flattops. Every spare moment, while I was not busy on my own chair, I would study Bassett’s every movement while cutting a flattop. After a few weeks of observing Basset, I suddenly saw what he was doing differently, and from that time on I had no problem cutting a flattop either. Over the years I continued to improve the technique to perfection. The old saying is: “One man’s poison is another man’s food.” Even after the long hair craze of the 1960s set in, I had customers driving over a hundred miles round-trip to have me cut their hair, and the flattop was the greater part of that.

Back at the Hotel Barber Shop in Bowling Green, Ohio in the early 1950’s, I worked at that barbershop from the fall of 1951 to the summer of 1954, when I then set up my own barber business in Fostoria, Ohio, which was my home town. Sometime during the last year working at the Hotel Barber Shop, a situation occurred that would change my procedure for cutting all man’s or boy’s haircuts so drastically, it was like learning to cut hair all over again, it was so different. In retrospect, I believe it was Yahweh who caused this situation to occur.

One day a father with his son entered the barbershop, who had come to the barbershop several times before. All we barbers knew whoever had to cut the son’s hair was going to have a fight on his hands. Suddenly, the first barber speeded up to avoid the wrestling match, while the second and third barbers slowed down. Well, I saw it coming, that I would be the one to cut the son’s hair. I thought to myself, “I’m tired of playing this game”. I thought again to myself, “If I only had three hands; one hand to hold the boy in place while having two hands to perform the haircut.” Suddenly, the idea came to me rather than take the clippers and work my way up around the neck and ears, I would use various attachments and coarse settings on the clipper blades and start higher, and work my way down. The boy had blond hair, which helped the situation, but the tapering on the lower neck and around the ears is where 90% of the tedious work takes place. I had just completed 90% of the tedious work in just a few minutes. I then decided to cut the hair on the top of the boy’s head, where I could comb the hair between my fingers, and drop my fingers down enough so if the boy made an abrupt move the hair I wanted to cut off was still between my fingers, and I could hardly make a mistake. This I completed in a couple of minutes. This left a ridge around the head between the lower tapering area that had to be blended in with the top, but minimized the area that required both hands with scissors and comb, where it was difficult to compensate for the boy’s sudden movements. What I had just done was to give this boy a first class haircut in half of the usual time. The other three barbers had not noticed my change of procedure, but when I took the hair cloth off of the boy and released him from the barber chair, I proceeded to ring up the cash register, and called for the next customer. All three of the other barbers looked with amazement that I had completed the boy’s haircut in such a short time. This new procedure had worked so well that time and again I found myself reverting back to it on other customers. As a matter of fact, I was learning to cut hair all over again in a better way, and it took me about six months to perfect this new system, which I believe Yahweh helped me to find. Soon after this, I started my own barber business in Fostoria, Ohio, and I continued to seek out, develop, and customize any and every new improvement in barbering I could find. So I thank Yahweh for leading me to the Hotel Barber Shop, and helping me to increase my barbering skills, so I could survive the grim times ahead.

While these were two valuable lessons that would help me in my occupation, an incident happened at the Hotel Barber Shop at Bowling Green that would prepare me for my eventual ministry in Christian Israel Identity. There was a professor at the Bowling Green State University who would have himself locked up in prison on his summer furlough from the college to study the prisoners at various prisons, and I don’t remember his name. By dressing himself as the prisoners were dressed, the prisoners would act in their usual manner, and no one would alter their behavior. This professor did this study on several of his summer breaks, so it wasn’t just a short, brief study, but a long, comprehensive investigation.

It was the month of September, either 1952 or maybe 1953, that he came into our barbershop, and he would always wait for Warren Basset to cut his hair, and he had quite a story to tell us concerning his summer break at a prison, though I don’t remember the prison he mentioned. But he had gathered quite an extensive statistical profile on the general prison population. The one statistic that he mentioned that got my attention was (and I will have to paraphrase it), ‘... the prison population is 90% black ...’ Immediately in my mind I thought, 10 times 10 has always equaled 100, so evidently a black is 100 times more prone to commit a crime than a White. Actually, at the time the blacks were only 10% of the United States’ population.

I should mention here that all four of us barbers were witnesses to what this Bowling Green State University professor had stated, and the witnesses were: (1) Warren Bassett, barber on the first chair, (2) Eugene Eblin, barber on the second chair, (3) Dick Stuckey, barber on the third chair, and (4) myself, barber on the fourth chair. As I remember, when that BGSU professor made that statement, I was standing behind my fourth barber chair cutting the hair of a customer, and I was simply amazed at what the professor had said. That’s been about 63 years ago, and I have since lost track of the three other barbers.

About that same time, after getting accustomed to my new procedure for cutting hair, I was starting to have several customers who would pass up the other three barbers and wait until I could take them. Warren Bassett already had all of the customers he could handle, who would wait for him until he could take them, but the barbers on the second and third barber chairs started to become envious, and Eugene Eblin refused even to speak or look at me. He just pretended that I wasn’t there. As for Dick Stuckey, he would speak to me, but would complain to Bassett and Eblin that I was always getting in his way when he was cutting hair. With my new procedure for cutting hair, I was gaining more and more customers who would wait for me to cut their hair. As a result, I was doing almost as much business as Warren Bassett on the first chair, who was one of the best barbers I ever had the privilege to work with. As a matter of fact, our barbershop as a whole, was growing business-wise. So the owner of the barbershop (who also owned and operated a restaurant in downtown Bowling Green) decided to bring a fifth barber in to work on Saturdays, which cut my customer flow nearly in half on that day. This fifth barber’s work was inferior, and a lot of the regular customers started to avoid using the services of the Hotel Barbershop. I confronted the owner and told him: either this fifth barber goes, or I go! Well, the fifth barber came into the shop to pick up his barbering tools, and cursed me with everything in the book, declaring me his enemy forever. And I answered him not a word! I had been thinking of starting my own barber business in Fostoria, Ohio, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I secretly started to make provisions for such a move, but I needed to continue working at the Hotel Barber Shop for another three months to get everything I needed in place. When I was within about three weeks of opening my own barbering business, I went to the restaurant and the Hotel Barber Shop owner and gave him a three weeks notice I was quitting, and he cursed me out somewhat like the fifth barber had cursed me. The barbershop owner told me I could leave immediately. I replied “no”, and told him I would continue working for another three weeks, and then leave. And I did as I had said would, and I never got any flack in the process!

Getting back to my story of how I learned, while working at the Bowling Green Hotel Barbershop for three years and nine months, that the negroes (i.e., n-words) were/are 100 times more likely to commit crimes than Whites. I tried to search the Internet, typing in “professor. 1952, 1953, bowling green state university”, but I could not find this professor’s name or any data on him. But I did find a similar situation (in part) described at the City Journal website:

http://www.city-journal.org/html/6_2_my_black.html

“John J. DiIulio, Jr.; My Black Crime Problem, and Ours; Why are so many blacks in prison? Is the criminal justice system racist? The answer is disquieting.

“Spring 1996 .... Violent crime is down in New York and many other cities, but there are two big reasons to keep the champagne corked. One is that murder, rape, robbery, and assault remain at historic highs: the streets of Manhattan, like those of Houston, Philadelphia, Detroit, Chicago, and Los Angeles, remain much less safe today than in the 1950s and 1960s. Worse, though policing and prison policies matter, nothing affects crime rates more than the number of young males in the population – and by the year 2010, there will be about 4.5 million more males age 17 or under than there were in 1990: 8 percent more whites and 26 percent more blacks. Since around 6 percent of young males turn out to be career criminals, according to the historical data, this increase will put an estimated 270,000 more young predators on the streets than in 1990, coming at us in waves over the next two decades. Numerous studies show that each succeeding generation of young male criminals commits about three times as much serious crime as the one before it: the occasional fatal knife fight of 1950s street gangs has given way to the frequent driveby shootings of 1990s gangs.

“The second reason to keep the champagne corked is that not only is the number of young black criminals likely to surge, but also the black crime rate, both black-on-black and black-on-white, is increasing, so that as many as half of these juvenile super-predators could be young black males ....” Note: The rest of this Internet article is not worth reading, so ignore it!

It should be noted, then, that the Bowling Green State University’s professor was not out of line for pointing out that ‘... the prison population is 90% black ...’ (in the 1950s)! In fact, this article (in part) by John J. DiIulio, Jr., demonstrates that the black criminal problem turned out to be much more serious than even the BGSU professor had estimated, and is still growing. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Almighty Yahweh placed me in the Hotel Barber Shop in Bowling Green, Ohio specially to hear the testimony of the BGSU professor’s statement, ‘... the prison population is 90% black ...’ This was just one more incident preparing me for my Christian Israel Identity ministry! However, at that time in the 1950s, having a ministry was not one of my objectives. And the typical establishment seminary since time immemorial, has never prepared anyone for a genuine Christian Israel Identity ministry! Concluding this point, I should warn the reader, as there are websites all over the Internet that are twisting the statistics, in order to contradict what this BGSU professor stated in the Hotel Barber Shop in Bowling Green, Ohio.

About six months before I started my own barbering business in Fostoria, Ohio, my wife and I had been living near Wayne, Ohio, and then we moved to Fostoria, where I opened my new barbershop July 10th 1954. When I had searched for a location in Fostoria, the only place that I could find was in the basement below a restaurant called Candyland, which originally had been a candy store, but later added a hot-dog and hamburger quick-lunch room, and gradually it developed into a full restaurant operation. In taking a basement location, I was aware that it would be more difficult establishing a steady business than had I found one on ground level, so I had one strike against me from the very start. Also, unbeknown to me, another barber in Fostoria just expanded his operation moving his location and adding two new barbers in the process. So, as a result, I had three more strikes against me, making four in all. But I made up my mind that come hell or high water, I was going to establish a successful barber business. It took me two years to meet my goal, but I finally did it in spite of it all. It so happened, as I was nearing my second full year in business, over about a three or four month span, three local barbers died one after another, and increased my market share.

I had started my new barber business on a shoestring, getting help from a trusting barber supply man, and making do with whatever used furniture I could find. I even saw a sink in someone’s back yard which they were probably going to throw away, and was able to purchase it at a very low price. Here I was, two years later, doing more business than my competitor barbers with first floor locations! But had it not been for my wonderful wife taking employment locally in the office at the Seneca Wire Company, things would have been much more difficult.

It took me some time to realize it, but that basement location had an advantage that I didn’t anticipate immediately. It didn’t happen very often (maybe two or three times a year), but once in a while a negro (i.e., n-word) would enter the door of my shop. Well, there was a barbershop right behind Candy Land that was operated by a mulatto, and I would tell the negro (i.e., n-word or simply nigger) that the barbershop he wanted was behind Candyland at the side door facing Sandusky street. Whether or not the n-word entered my shop by mistake or on purpose didn’t matter to me, he got the same reply.

By 1956, between my wife’s income along with my receipts from barbering, we were doing well enough that we were starting to consider building ourselves a house, but we weren’t doing well enough financially to buy a house already built. So our only other alternative was to buy a lot and build a house, portion by portion, as we could afford it. Again, we were working on a shoestring, so to speak. We started by purchasing a lot in an area that others at the time wouldn’t consider, but we took a chance that in the future the area would be built up with new homes, and that is what happened. So we paid $100 down on a lot, and $25 a month until it was paid for. We then found out if the lot was paid for, we could get a ready-cut house for 10% down, and Sterling Homes would finance and send most of what we needed, except for the foundation, plumbing, wiring, and concrete. We got up the 10%, and we were on our way, but I had to build it myself.

This is my two hundred and ninth monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last letter, WTL #208, I was explaining how it took me two years in my own barber business to get well enough established in Fostoria, Ohio to start living comfortably. During these same two years I actually sacrificed about one year in lost income, in comparison to what I would have earned at the Hotel Barber Shop in Bowling Green, Ohio for that period.

By 1956 between my wife’s income from working in the office at the Seneca Wire Mill Company, along with my receipts from barbering, we were doing well enough that we were starting to consider building ourselves a house, but we weren’t doing well enough financially to buy a house already built. So our only other alternative was to buy a lot and build a house, portion by portion, as we could afford it. Again, we were working on a shoestring, so to speak. We started by purchasing a lot in an area that others, at the time, wouldn’t consider, but we took a chance that in the future the area would be built up with new homes, and that is what happened. So we paid $100 down on a lot, and $25 a month until it was paid for. We then found out if the lot was paid for, we could get a ready-cut house for 10% down, and Sterling Homes would finance and send most of what we needed, except for the foundation, plumbing, wiring, and concrete. We got up the 10%, and we were on our way, but I had to build the house myself.

That meant that I had to rearrange my hours at my barber business to gain the time I needed to build our house, and I had to gamble that my business wouldn’t suffer all that much. I was in the barber’s union at that time, and all the other union barbers in town were working from 8.00 A.M. until 6.00 P.M. five days a week, plus Wednesday from 8.00 A.M. until 12.00 noon. Before this time I had chosen to close to all day on Wednesday, making it a five day week for me. I found out by closing all day Wednesday, the greater part of the usual Wednesday customers would show up on Thursday. So I decided to start opening up four full days a week, being closed all day on Monday and all day Wednesday. It worked as I had gambled it would, as the greater part of the usual Monday customers showed up on Tuesday.

The reason that I could get away with these new shorter hours is because about a year earlier, I had built a special sign to indicate how many customers were waiting. Being in a basement location, this information to a passing motorist whether there were none, a few, or many waiting was vital. At that time, many potential customers who needed a haircut would drive around town looking from their automobiles into the windows of various barber shops to see whether they were busy or not, and if they spotted an empty barber chair or an idle barber, they would quickly find a parking place and rush into that particular barbershop. During my barbering years in Fostoria, Ohio, I built several of these waiting signs at two different locations. The first waiting sign I built and mounted on the railing leading down the stairway to the basement under the Candy Land restaurant to my barbershop indicated: “0-1-2-3-4-5 WAITING”. Each number had a separate one hundred watt light bulb to light up that particular number. Actually the word “WAITING” was underneath the numbers. I found out with this first waiting sign that when the light was on 3, 4 or 5, it didn’t draw any customers (and it might a well have indicated 100), so the second waiting sign that I built at 568 North Countyline Street, I left the numbers 3, 4 and 5 off, and when I had 3 or more, I turned the sign off with none of the numbers lit up. I didn’t count the customer in the barber chair being serviced, so I didn’t turn the light from “0” to “1” until I had one in the barber chair being serviced, and one waiting. Sometimes I had a real busy day, but the customers came in at a steady rate, and the waiting sign was on “0” nearly all day, and this was the case about 90 percent of the time every day. Actually, I basically worked by appointment, but used the waiting sign to fill in the space/ spaces between appointments. Another thing I found by working by appointment is that about every third or fourth customer showed up about five minutes late, so I set my electric clock on the wall five minutes late, but kept my wristwatch at the correct time.

Anyway, getting back to my story, my gamble by going to a four day week work schedule worked out quite well, and I took advantage of it several times in different phases of building our house. The great thing about it was I didn’t have to pay any income tax on the labor I had saved by building the greater part of our house myself.

However, physical-wise, it turned out to be a six-day endurance stress test. For instance, on a Monday I would go out to our building site before sunrise, and would do things like driving stakes with a sledge hammer to mark out where the large back-hoe was to excavate for the basement and foundation for our house, and other like activities until well after sunset. I would return home to the duplex where we were renting at 555 W. North Street dirty and exhausted. And after eating a bite, I would take a hot bath and go to bed. The next morning, Tuesday, I would awake around 7.00 A.M. with my muscles stiff and aching, whereupon I would have a bite to eat for breakfast, and it was off to open up my barbershop, usually with two or three customers waiting at the door who were holdover customers from Monday. Not only that, but a few of my customers knew I would have the barbershop closed all day Wednesday, so some of them were also coming in on Tuesday. Therefore, Tuesdays turned out to be quite busy, and I would eat my lunch wherever my appointment schedule would give me a break which sometimes didn’t happen. My closing time was 6:00 P.M., but by the time I got everyone taken care of, it was nearer 7:00 P.M., or later, at which time I would sweep the hair up off of the floor, and tidy up the shop a bit. Then, with every muscle in my body stiff and aching, I would drag myself up the stairway to street level, and make my way back home. On Mondays and Wednesdays it was full speed ahead at the building site, and Tuesdays and Thursdays through Saturdays it was full speed ahead barbering.

After a couple of weeks, the excavating had been done, and in order to work at night, it was necessary that I set up a temporary electrical outlet. So I nailed a substantial piece of plywood to a power pole at the north-west corner of our lot, and got a meter box from the power company and wired up a 60 amp fuse and switch box along with a double three wire electrical plug box. I then had a welding shop make me up two half inch steel rods about five feet long with a small spur rod to force the longer rod into the ground. I had the top end flattened and a hole drilled to mount a floodlight and the lower end tapered to a point to make it easier to force the rod into the ground. I also purchased an ample amount of heavy duty extension cord to string up the floodlights where I would be working. So not only was I working all day Mondays and Wednesdays at the building site, but most evenings after dark sometimes up until 11 P.M. One night I was laying concrete blocks, and I had mixed up a little more mortar than I should have, and was still working close to 1 A.M., when my wife, Tillie, called a taxicab and came to our building site to see if I was all right.

After the excavation for the basement had been completed, the next things I had to attend to were digging a hole for a sump-pump to drain the water away that was collecting on the bottom of the excavation, and then digging by hand channels for the footer. After the excavation had dried out, the clay soil turned almost hard as concrete, and the only way to get the footer channels dug out was with a pickax, shovel, and wheelbarrow, and it was a very dirty and time consuming process. It was the middle of summer, and I was in danger of heat exhaustion, or a stroke. I had a large gallon thermos which I would fill half way up with water and the rest of the way up with ice cubes. I knew I had to keep my head cool some way, so I tried placing a couple of ice cubes inside of my straw hat, and that allowed me to work almost as hard as if it were a cool cloudy day. It was a little messy, though, with the water from the melting ice cubes running down my face and ears. I didn’t think about maybe using an ice-pack. Inasmuch as my wife, Tillie, was working in the office at the Seneca Wire Mill, we both carried a brown-bag lunch, and when she got off work, she had a five block walk to get home. I was really pressed for time, as I wanted to get all of the concrete blocks laid before the freezing weather set in, whereupon I could start framing the house. As a matter of fact, I continued to do the carpenter work even when it got as low as ten below zero. One time during that winter we had a heavy snow storm, and there I was nailing down subfloor, and it was difficult to see more than about a hundred feet away. In fact, it was snowing so hard that I had to sweep the area clean after each additional board I had nailed down. I was working a four day schedule in the barbershop, so I had to take advantage of every minute of the two days a week I was taking off, regardless of the weather.

When the temperature fell beneath ten below zero, I would use the time to transfer lumber with my warm car and small trailer, which I put in three storage places after Sterling Homes had sent a train car load of building material to us after we had prepaid the required ten percent down. Many an evening with temperatures zero to five below, I would get out my floodlights, and nail studding together in sections and erect them in place in an upright position, with temporary support.

By the spring of that year, it started to rain every Monday and Wednesday, the days that I had scheduled as off-days at the barber shop preventing me from getting anything accomplished. I made up my mind that I was not going to let this rain interfere with my progress, so I went down to the army and navy surplus store and purchased a rain-proof military style poncho which completely covered me. I was working overhead putting up ceiling joists at that time, and the subfloor was very slippery, and I had to be very careful as the legs of the stepladder I was using could suddenly slip out of place, making the stepladder turn sideways, causing me to lose my balance. Not only that, but when I got a ceiling joist up and in place, the stepladder was wet, my hands were wet, the hammer was wet, and the spike was wet, and when I went to drive the spike in place the hammer had a tendency to glance off the head of the spike. Nevertheless, I worked that entire day in the pouring rain. And if I remember correctly I used that poncho more than once, while working in the rain.

After a few weeks, the continual heavy rain season diminished and the weather began to warm up. My portable floodlights became a nuisance to string out every time I wanted to work after dark. As our budget was already overburdened, I had to find something that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg, so I purchased a white porcelain dishpan from the five and dime and mounted four light sockets on the inside bottom of it, and wired them in parallel, and put a 200 watt clear light bulb in each light socket and placed the dish pan upside down and mounted it on the end of a long 2x4, and secured it to a corner wall near the center of the house, and ran a heavy duty all-weather cable on top of the ground to my temporary electric service from the power company. Then, all I had to do was to pull the switch to the on position, and it lit up my working area plus much of the open field around my lot. Later, when the roof was on, and windows and doors hung, that dishpan light became handy for working on the inside of house as well, although I had to orient it in various ways.

By September of that same year, I became concerned about connecting up some kind of temporary heating for when the weather became colder. One friend volunteered to lend me a fuel-oil space heater that he had formerly used to heat his home. So I had to get around and purchase an insulated metal flue, which I would eventually use for a gas furnace and gas water heater. I got it all hooked up, but it was a bothersome task getting it started every evening, and making sure the flame was shut off completely upon leaving the unfinished house. Talking with another friend at the barbershop, he told me he had a gas space heater for sale with a non-electrical automatic thermostat, that turned the flame up and down according to the demand. I realized this was a better and safer way to keep my unfinished house heated, and the only thing I needed was to turn the thermostat up when I arrived to work, and down just before I left, so I purchased his gas space heater.

In order to hook up this gas space heater, I first had to contact the gas company and see where they wanted to place the main shutoff valve. I then had to get my pickax, two different shovels and my wheelbarrow and hand dig a trench about two feet deep and about forty-five feet long to the edge of my house. I also had to measure up all of the black iron pipe and fittings that I needed, and then purchase them. Also, I had to get the mounting that the gas-meter would hang from, just inside of the concrete wall in my basement from the gas company. When I finally had all of the gas lines installed, I made the connections needed to connect the gas line to the gas space heater and also connect the gas space heater to the insulated flue that vented out of the top of the roof. The next thing that needed to be done was call the gas company to bring out a gas meter, and test the lines. I was fortunate enough to have a gas company man as one of my customers at the barbershop, so he was the one that was sent by the gas company to mount the gas meter, test the lines, and get the gas space heater’s pilot light lit, and then turned on and have all its functions checked. When all of this had been done, I had to back-fill by hand the trench I had dug for the gas-line.

Once this heat was on, I could start roughing in plumbing, wiring and start insulating the ceilings and outside walls, among other things, like mounting the main 200 amp electrical fuse-box, and changing my temporary electrical hookup to a permanent service. They didn’t have relay boxes back in those days. One nice thing, back in those days, was nearly everything I was buying for our house was made in the U.S.A.! Neither were there any city or county building or zoning codes in our area to hassle with or get permission from. The electric power company, though, did encourage adequate fusing in the main fuse box and discouraged overloading of any of the various circuits, and I always tried to exceed the recommended ratings on everything.

The problem that arose at that time was, we were paying the utilities at my barbershop, at our rented duplex at 555 W. North street, and gas and electricity at our building site, besides the rent at my barber shop and our rented duplex, plus paying payments to Sterling Homes on the balance due for the building materials they had sent us. Eventually, when it came time to plaster the house and run a concrete floor in the basement and have a septic tank and leech bed installed, I was able to get a contractor’s type open-end loan, and was able to pay off Sterling Homes, and hire to get this other work done.

So financially it was imperative that I get our new home ready for living as soon as possible. We finally moved in our new home in November of 1958 living on the subfloors, and I only had two electrical outlets hooked up to use, so we had to run extension cords to our lamps, but our Arkla-Servel combination gas furnace and airconditioner that I had installed and ran all the sheet metal duct work for, was keeping all the rooms in our house quite comfortable. However, the bathroom was only half finished, with only the stool and bathtub hooked up, and the kitchen was completely unusable, and wouldn’t be finished for another three years. Whereupon, we decided to use what would eventually become bedroom #3, for a temporary kitchen.

In bedroom #3, there was a closet that would have two sliding doors when eventually turned from a temporary kitchen back into a bedroom. In the unfinished state, this left a four foot six inch wide by a six foot six inch high opening. So I cobbled together some rough plywood sheeting usually used for subsiding in the form of a box and put five shelves in it 23 inches deep to use for temporary cupboards. My grandmother Keiser gave us some well-used old linoleum she had left over after putting down new linoleum in one of her rooms. I was then able to salvage from the linoleum she gave us, a piece the size we needed in our temporary kitchen. I then had to temporarily run a three wire 220 volt electric cable from the main fuse box to this temporary kitchen for our 40 inch Frigidaire electric range, and wire up a 110 volt outlet for our Frigidaire refrigerator. My grandmother Keiser also gave us a well-used chest of drawers to use for cooking utensils. Then when my wife, Tillie, wanted to prepare a meal, she would have to go to the bathtub in the bathroom to draw any water she might need. Then, after the meal was over, she would have to return to the bathtub in the bathroom to draw enough water to fill a dishpan to wash the dishes and any pans she might have used. And after washing and drying the dishes and pans, and tidying up the temporary kitchen, she would have to return to the bathroom to empty the dishpan into the toilet. Also we had two picture windows, one in the living room and the other in what would become our dining room, Our budget wouldn’t allow us to buy any new draperies, so for quite some time we made do with bed sheets instead.

Now with all of this my wife, Tillie, became pregnant, and it turned out to be a baby boy, born July 14, 1958. She worked right up until the day of his birth, but after that, my wife never again returned back to work at the Seneca Wire Mill, except for a couple of weeks a few years later to fill in while another woman was on vacation. So not only did my wife have to keep house in this unfinished state, but she had our baby boy to take care of. Financially, we would miss the income that she was contributing to this housing project, and I discontinued my four day work schedule at the barbershop, and went back to a five day week. But there would be no easing up for me with my evenings and days off work schedule, as in order to get the house finished, it would demand every moment that I could commit to it.

After moving into our new home and arranging things around the best that we could with an unfinished house, I decided to take one room at a time, and finish that room completely, then move on to another room and do the same with that one, until all the rooms in the house were complete in every detail. That way I could put my tools in the room I was working on at the time, and when it was bed time, I could just leave the tools lay, and close the door behind me.

From November, 1958 until December, 1960 I was making great progress on getting our new home shipshape, when out of the blue, I had an opportunity to purchase a property on north Countyline street that I could use for my barber business. Countyline street had been changed from two to four lanes around 1950, making it a good location with a lot of traffic, suitable for several types of business. One day one of my customers, who was in real-estate at that time, and I asked him if he knew of any lot or property for sale that I could use for a barbershop, as the lease I had on my basement location under the Candyland restaurant would expire June 30, 1962. He told me he had a property at 568 N. Countyline street, but he said he wasn’t sure whether or not it would fit my needs. My business was slow that morning, so I suggested that I would close long enough to go out with him to see it. When we arrived at the property, he started to show me where the lot lines were located. Right away, I could see that see house on the property sat near the extreme north side of the lot, and that on the south side of the lot there was enough room for an entrance driveway, and the backyard could be used for a parking lot. The house was a quite old lean-to type of building, and I wasn’t really interested in the house, but a recreation building that had been built behind the house. Actually, it had at sometime in the past been a garage, and the previous owner had added a 20x20 foot addition to the garage as a recreation room, an ideal size room that I could eventually remodel for my barber business.

The lady owner of the property had originally asked $15.000 for it, but unbeknown to us, she had dropped the price successively to 13, 11, and finally down to $9,000 at the time we became interested in buying it. In 1960, we had been in a protracted recession, and realestate was really taking a beating. In the end, I offered her $8,000 if my bank would approve the loan. Our bank did approve our request, and they added it to our already open-end contractor’s loan on the new home I was building, and suddenly we found ourselves in debt for $16,800, which was a very large sum in those days.

Once the purchase was consummated, and upon getting the utilities turned on, the gas company informed us that there was a gas leak somewhere in the house. It was about 5 degrees below zero, and I was afraid the water pipes might have frozen up, and would break once the heat was turned on. So I had to take some time off from the barbershop to repair the gas leak. We did, though, manage to get the electric turned on, and I was able to use a small electric heater to raise the temperature maybe 5 degrees, but it was still near zero inside the house. In order to hunt down the leak, I hooked up a tire type valve and an air pressure gauge to a small piece of plumbing. I then put a cap where the gas meter was located in the front of the house, and checked the main gas line inside the house to the furnace room in an up-ground cellar. With a hand pump, I pumped the pressure up to 50 pounds, and after waiting an hour or so the pressure remained at 50 pounds, so I knew there were no leaks in that part of the line. I next turned the shutoff valves to the furnace and the water heater. This last part of the line had about 8 black pipe fittings and a half dozen short lengths of black iron pipe. I then placed my homemade pressure gauge where I had broken the connection to test the main line, and hand pumped the pressure up to 50 pounds, and within about 10 minutes the gauge dropped back to nearly zero, and I realized the leak had to be in this maze of black iron pipe. I had already worked in this near zero temperature for three days, so I decided to measure up each section of pipe and the number pipe fittings I would need, and I went down to a plumbing dealer and had them duplicate each pipe and pipe fitting. Then I disconnected all that maze of black pipe and fittings, and installed all new pipe and fittings in that area, and then did a pressure check from gas meter to everything in the up ground cellar. The pressure held, and the gas company came and mounted the meter and tested the lines, and turned on the furnace and water heater, and fortunately found there were no water leaks or damage to the toilet tank or stool. After having all of the utilities turned on and working properly, we decided to rent out the house, as there remained two more years on my lease for my barbershop under Candyland down town. The rent money we received from the house on Countyline street, helped us to make the monthly payments on our loan from the Citizens Savings and Loan Association in Tiffin, Ohio.

Meanwhile, it was back to more work finishing up our new home on north Vine street, using every moment I could find. My next undertaking was to finish the kitchen, which consumed a lot of time. There was a new lumber company in Findlay, Ohio, and I ordered four or five 4x8 foot by ¾ inch birch plywood panels clear on both sides to use for the cupboard doors and drawer panels. I also ordered some 10x¾ inch sheeting boards I which I needed for a different project, but when they delivered this material, the sheeting boards they had delivered, were beautiful white pine with a minimum of knots. Right away, I realized that if I would carefully cut out the clear areas between the knots, I had all the white pine I needed for the framework of the cupboards. And the birch plywood panels they delivered had a beautiful wavy wood-grain appearance.

I didn’t have the funds to purchase an accurate cutting power bench table saw, so I bought a metal bench saw table from Sears Roebuck to mount my 6½ inch hand-held power circular saw mounted upside down in it. I used hollow ground fine tooth finish blades in my upside down hand power saw which left the cut as smooth a surface as if it had been accurately planed. I also purchased from Sears Roebuck a power planer that attached to my 6½ inch power hand circular saw (on or off of the metal bench saw table). I was also able to mount this power planer on my metal bench saw table with my 6½ inch power hand circular saw supplying the power with a small “v” belt. Every time I needed a very precise cut with the circular saw, I would use my square to make sure the saw blade would be at a perfect 90 degree angle. Sometimes I would have to use shims at different places to get that perfect 90 degree cut. I was using a lot of tongue and grooving to fit the framework of our cupboards together, so I had to be very careful setting the saw blade up for a perfect tongue and groove. When I was cutting out the birch plywood door and drawer panels, I had to be even more careful, as I wanted the grain of the door and drawer panels to match perfectly all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and one miss-cut would spoil the whole effect. For the back of the cupboards, I used melamine coated hardboard, and on the surface of the shelves I glued a hard plastic sheet material similar to Formica. That way it eliminated the need for using shelf paper. To get the design for our cupboards, I had taken notice of some cupboards that were custom built by a cabinet maker for my parents when they had built a new house, only I made ours a little more fancy, and I did this cupboard building project all by myself.

Even though the kitchen cupboards were completely finished with the kitchen sink mounted, and all the plumbing to the sink connected, we still couldn’t use the kitchen until it was painted, the tile floor laid in place, all the woodwork cut and nailed in place, the ceiling light mounted, the temporary 220 volt electric line moved from bedroom #3 to the kitchen, and the 40 inch Frigidaire electric range moved from bedroom #3, to the kitchen and hooked up to the 220 volt service. Finally, my wife no longer needed to go to the bathtub in the bathroom to draw water for cooking and washing dishes, nor did she need any longer to go the bathroom to pour the dishpan water into the toilet. My wife and I didn’t realize it at the time, but building this home with the least amount of borrowed money possible, we were at least obeying, in part, the Biblical mandate not to borrow money upon usury. It makes one wonder what it would be like without usury!

This is not the end of my story as there was still a lot of work to be done to finish our new home, and now added to this was a building without utilities except for an inadequate electrical hookup to totally remodel and prepare for my barber business. As long as I had the Countyline street property rented, it was impossible for me to do any work there other than something that needed repairing or replacing. Fortunately, our renters moved out about four months before my lease expired downtown below the Candyland restaurant. This gave me the opportunity to enter and inspect all of the three buildings on our Countyline street property. While looking the place over, I began to envision how I might be able to use the kitchen in the house for a temporary quarters for my barbershop, as I began to comprehend that it was going to take quite some time to get the combination recreation-garage building remodeled as my permanent business location. After much consideration, I decided to set up the temporary quarters in the kitchen of this Countyline street location, and I found myself pressed for time to get ready for the move.

The main thing that I had to do was stone in an area for a driveway and a parking lot, so I went to the City of Fostoria’s zoning office and got a permit to cut the curb. I had a sixteen year old cousin, Phillip Keiser, son of Merrill Keiser, who wanted to help me, so on my day off at the barbershop, we got together at the Countyline street location and we used a sledge hammer to break the curbing up. We would take turns swinging the sledge hammer as hard as we could, and I first took the sledge and gave it all I had for about ten minutes whereupon, I handed the sledge to Phillip, and he did the same, and handed it back to me. By the middle of the afternoon, we had twenty-two feet of curbing broken up and the debris removed to an area that needed some fill. I then called the concrete company to send the needed amount of concrete to fill in the space from the edge of the street to the sidewalk which was about three feet wide, and we worked down and straight-edged the surface of the concrete. I will say one thing: Phillip swung a wicked sledge hammer!

After cutting the curb for the driveway entrance I needed to stone the driveway and parking lot. It so happened I had a customer with a large dump-truck that could spread the stone evenly as he moved the truck slowly along, and he had a good source for the stone at a reduced price. There were a few minor sections that I had to dig out by hand to make room for the stone bed, which only took a couple days of work. The driveway and parking lot probably took 50 to 60 large dump-truck loads or more, but I didn’t count them. If I remember right, he laid down a bed of coarse stone, and covered it with a layer of assorted crushed stone. I knew that in the summer time the kitchen in that house was going to get super hot, and the lady that sold the house to me had left a small air conditioner in the window of the bedroom, so I moved it to the kitchen area. I had another small air conditioner that I had installed at my basement barber shop under the Candyland restaurant, and I disconnected it and took it to the Countyline street location and installed it in another kitchen window. Between those two air conditioners, I was able to keep it comfortably cool on the hottest day of the year.

After getting everything in the house and kitchen shipshape, I decided to install a meter box and a main 120 amp fuse box and cutoff switch in the garage-recreation building that I would eventually remodel for my barber business. After getting all of this hooked up, I called the electric company, and they came out and mounted a meter, and I had electric power to start my remodeling of that building. Later, I also had the telephone company hook up an extra extension phone (besides the phone I had in the kitchen of the house), in the garage-recreation building, so if I had some extra time between customers, I could take my appointment book with me and get some work done with that remodeling job.

Finally, the last day of my lease of the basement under the Candyland restaurant was coming near, and I had engaged one of my customers with a pickup truck to help me move my waiting chairs, barber chair, barber furniture, fixtures, a gas space heater, and a gas water heater, along with two work benches I used in the back room of my barber shop, to my Countyline street location. I also prearranged with the telephone company to disconnect me after my last full day under Candyland, and have me reconnected the next morning ready to go to work at my Countyline street location.

Immediately upon opening my barber business on Countyline street, I found what it was like to work at a ground level location, looking out of the windows and seeing the green trees and the birds flying about. Not only that, but the greater part of my established patronage had no trouble making the transition to my new location, and I gained a lot of neighborhood business in the process.

This is my two hundred and tenth monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last letter, WTL #209, I explained how I finally moved my barber business from a downtown location in a basement under the Candyland restaurant to a high traffic area on a four-lane street in a residential district. Not only did the greater part of my established patronage follow me to my new location, but I gained a substantial amount of new business from the surrounding neighborhood. In addition to that, I started to get commuter business from other cities, such as traveling salesmen, repairmen, or a couple of dozen other occupations working out of pickup trucks, delivery trucks, farm trucks and vans of all sorts, too numerous to mention here. After all, Countyline street was a main thoroughfare for U.S. route 23 and State route 199. In years past, all of that transit business had to pass through the downtown district, but after underpasses were built beneath all of Fostoria’s many railways, that traffic was transferred to Countyline street. However, if they ever build a bypass around Fostoria, as they often suggest doing, that business advantage will dry up to some extent. But that has not happened in the last seventy years, and doesn’t appear likely anytime soon.

Here I was with a heavy workload in the barber business, plus a home to finish up, plus a building to remodel for my barber business at my Countyline street location. Looking back at 1962 and 1963, it amazes me that I was doing so well in temporary quarters in the kitchen of that old rundown house. But things were about to change for the worse. There were two forces that would bring this about:

(1) I was not immediately aware of it, but about that same time large incorporated drugstore chains were starting to enfranchise barbershops within their drugstores to draw new customers to their branches by offering quick barber services at a very reduced price, though the service was usually quite inferior in nature. Up until that time, the barber and beautician were usually locally owned as a proprietorship. Occasionally, I would have a customer who would brag when they were vacationing in Florida, California, or some other state having these drugstore barbershops, they could get immediate service at any time of the day, and for half the price that the Fostoria barbers were charging. It was obvious those Edomite-jew owned huge drugstore chains didn’t give a damn about the barber business, but was only using the barbers to draw people to their damnable pharmacies.

Like I explained before, I was doing quiet well in 1962 and 1963, and I felt quite secure that it would continue in the same manner. For me, it was getting to the point where by Friday late afternoon, my appointment book was full for all day Saturday. Once Saturday came along, the only way I could schedule another appointment was if someone would call in and cancel their appointment. It turned out to be one of the busiest rushes I ever experienced in the barber business. I was getting so many calls, I couldn’t get any hair cutting done, as no sooner had I hung up the phone for one call, the phone would immediately ring again, and this continued time and again. So the only alternative I had was to leave the phone off of the hook. Then I had potential customer after customer driving in and complaining that my phone was not working, as all they could get was a busy signal. And when I explained to them my problem, many went away miffed. It was one of those days that I didn’t take any time to eat my lunch. About 5 P.M. that Saturday a man whom I didn’t know, came into my shop and more or less demanded that I would cut his hair. He was dressed casually, as many would have after their work hours, and I apologized in a friendly manner and explained that I had already turned down somewhere between fifty to a hundred people that day, and I will never forget his answer. It was a threat something like this (and I will have to paraphrase it): “Well, we’ll have to do something about that.”

I cannot prove it, but I believe this man may have been involved in developing what had been formerly a farm field into Fostoria’s first shopping center. This man, with his threat, may have been developer or stockholder of one of the businesses in Fostoria’s first shopping center. Be that as it may, it wasn’t long until there was an announcement that there was going to be a large barbershop coming to the shopping center in Fostoria. When it was finally built and opened up, it’s operation appeared much like the drugstore franchises found in the larger cities.

Back then, we had a lot of mom and pop restaurants, grocery stores, and a multitude of other mom and pop services. All one has to do today is take a good look at the fast food franchises we now have in order to comprehend the evil these corporate chains have done to our mom and pop economy. For instance, today’s beautician is lucky to keep 30% of her sales. Later, when I became aware of these barber shop chains in other parts of the United States, the thought came in remembrance to me when the “Plaza” barbershop opened up in our one and only local shopping center advertising quick service, no waiting, and cut-rate prices. This same shop failed in the shopping plaza and at a downtown location, and is now listed as “Jorie’s On Main Salon LLC ...” in the Fostoria phone book in a very low traffic out-of-the-way residential area. In retrospect, I believe the only reason the Plaza barbershop was built and opened was to draw customers from the mom and pop establishments in Fostoria to the shopping center to buy their imported merchandise from only God knows where!

(2) The above “drugstore barber franchises” are small in comparison to what happened in 1964, and I will repeat in part from Watchman’s Teaching Letter 192 for April 2014:

Yet, since Ed Sullivan introduced the Beatles on television in 1964, our impressionable, immature White Israelite men and women (mostly women) started to mix their genetics with alien nonwhites on a gargantuan scale! Data is found at the following website:

http://www.edsullivan.com/artists/the-beatles

“On February 9th, 1964, The Beatles, with their Edwardian suits and mop top haircuts, made their first American television appearance – LIVE – on The Ed Sullivan Show. A record setting 73 million people tuned in that evening making it one of the seminal [i.e., relating to seed or semen – a Freudian slip?] moments in TV history. Nearly fifty years later, people still remember exactly where they were the night The Beatles stepped onto Ed Sullivan’s stage ... [brackets mine]

“The story of how The Beatles landed on The Ed Sullivan Show began with the group’s formation in Liverpool in 1960. They spent their first couple of years playing in small clubs throughout Europe. During late night gigs in the city of Hamburg, Germany, sometimes playing as long as eight hours a night, The Beatles perfected their act. However, it was not until an appearance on the British television show, ‘Val Parnell’s Sunday Night at the London Palladium’ and the 1963 release of their first album, Please Please Me that ‘Beatlemania’ began to spread. That March the album hit number one on the British charts, and by the end of the year, The Beatles’ music permeated UK radio. The ‘Fab Four’ even performed for the royal family. It was only after this burgeoning success at home did The Beatles and their manager, Brian Epstein, choose to launch their American invasion. They decided when they had a #1 song on the U.S. charts, then they would lock in the date of their Ed Sullivan debut ....”

I well remember what I was doing on February 9th, 1964! My wife, Tillie, and I were visiting her sister’s family in Rudolph, Ohio, which we often did on a Sunday afternoon and evening. It didn’t take very long into Sullivan’s shoe (as he pronounced it), after introducing the Beatles that I understood that their long hair could become a threat to the barber business in general. As for the young boys and girls screaming at the Beatles was nothing new as the Broadway Edomite-jews had the young people staged to scream at Frank Sinatra in the 1940s! The screamers were more than likely well rewarded for their screaming in both cases! I didn’t realize it at the time, but Almighty Yahweh was getting me set up to learn two of the greatest lessons I would ever learn, and wake me up to the Christian Israel Identity Message. There would be a lot of jolting bumps in the road for me, but I would survive them.

Again quoting from Watchman’s Teaching Letter 192 for April 2014:

I will now quote from David A, Noebel’s The Marxist Minstrels, A Handbook On Subversion Of Music, from chapter 12, entitled “Tampering With Our Teenagers”, pp. 44-47:

“America’s children are not the only targets of the Communists. Also included in their ingeniously conceived master music plan are America’s teenagers. Since rhythmic activity music ceases to be effective by early adolescence, the music designed for high school students is extremely effective in aiding and abetting demoralization among teenagers; effective in preparing them for riot and ultimately revolution to destroy our American way of life and the basic Christian principles governing that way of life.

“The music has been called a number of things, but today it is best known as rock ’n’ roll, beat music or simply Beatle-music. Even Time magazine admitted that ‘there was obviously something visceral’ about the music since it has caused riots in countless communities. Riot-causing it is, but it is also a noise which causes teenagers to experience countless side effects, detrimental not only to the community, but also to the individual and the country.

“Henry David Thoreau predicted in 1854 that music would some day destroy England and America. With today’s beat ‘music’ churning destruction throughout the length and breadth of England and America, Thoreau’s prophecy could be fulfilled sooner than most would care to contemplate.

“It took Lenin little time to realize that music played a vital part in the cohesion of society. He also realized that one sure way to destroy an enemy society was to destroy that society’s music. This is exactly what his disciples have set out to do.

“In his How Music Expresses Ideas, Sidney Finkelstein, the recognized cultural spokesman for the Communists in the USA, sets forth the program with little ambiguity. Finkelstein calls for the destruction of the barrier between classical music and popular music and insists that African music is the true epitome of popular music. The goal is to inundate the American people with African music and disparage the importance of good classical and standard musical forms! ....”

In 1964, I had no idea the enormity of what was going on behind the scenes, but I was soon going to feel the effects of its impact. Actually, it took me several years to identify the very heart of the great conspiracy, and the parties who are secretly pulling all of the strings. Literally, it is a conspiracy that has been going on now for nearly seven thousand five hundred years, and dates all the way back to Cain, who murdered Abel.

In the summer of 1964, I started to get a taste of what lay ahead for me in the barber business, and I was only getting a good start at remodeling the building I intended to eventually use for my barber business. I thank Almighty Yahweh that the bottom didn’t fall out of my business all at once, but gradually changed so that I could take countermeasures as shifting conditions forced me to do so.

In the summer of 1964, various parents with children from ages eight to about fourteen would send their boys to my barbershop for a haircut with the money in their pocket to pay for it. Then one day a boy came to my barbershop and got into my barber chair and I placed a hair cloth over him, and I asked him as to what kind of a haircut he would like. The boy then answered that he didn’t want any hair to be cut off at all. Well, what was I to do, as the parent had called on the phone and made the appointment, and the boy had the money with him to pay for the haircut? In all of my barbering years behind me, I never had a situation like this before, and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. So knowing the parent’s intent, I proceeded to give the boy a regular boy’s haircut leaving it a little on the long side, and I don’t remember that boy ever coming back to my shop again. Then when situations like this began happening time and again, I began to realize something detrimental was in the wind!

This type of thing kept happening over and over for a few months, when secondly the fathers or mothers (mostly mothers) started calling in ahead to make an appointment for their son and would say something like this: “I’m sending Junior in for a haircut (at such and such a time). Now he’s going to tell you what kind of a haircut he wants, but here is what kind of haircut I want you to give him...” Well again, what was I to do? So I decided that when Junior finally came in, I told Junior something like this: “Junior, your mother called me and gave me instructions that I was to cut your hair (such and such)”, and inasmuch as the parent was paying for the haircut, Junior would have to fight it out with his parents. I would learn later by the grapevine that Junior and his parents had a long-drag-out-fight, and in almost every case, Junior won the argument! This type of situation happened over and over time and again!

Well that same thing continued and developed into a third stage where the father or mother (usually the father) would call for an appointment where the father would come in with Junior, and an argument would start as soon as my barber chair was empty, and I would call “next”. Then Junior would openly argue with his father for about fifteen minutes before Junior finally relented and got into the barber chair. As I worked by appointment, that set me fifteen minutes behind time the rest of the day on each succeeding customer. This also happened over and over time and again!

One of the outstanding cases where a father called ahead of time and made an appointment for his son, added something like this while making the appointment. “Now when Junior comes in, I want him to get something that looks like a haircut. When he comes home I want to see that it looks like a haircut. (This the father repeated three or four times.) When Junior came in, I told him exactly what his father had said, and I cut Junior’s hair accordingly, (and a little on the long side)! A few days later the father came in to get his own hair cut. And he told me something like this about his son’s haircut: “Well, you wouldn’t have had to cut it that short!” Evidently this was another long-drag-out-fight!

Like I said before, this longhair mania started with the younger school boys, and then very slowly spread through a portion of the general population, who like lemmings started rushing for the nearest cliff! It’s like one lemming asking another lemming, “Where are you going?” The other lemming answering, “I don’t know, but everybody is doing it.” There were those, though, who were immune to public opinion who never accepted the longhair obsession in spite of the peer pressure by many to do so, which proves there are still a few people left who can think for themselves. But as Yahshua Christ Himself said “It takes a narrow minded people to walk a narrow way.” (Matt. 7:13-14):

“¹³ Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: ¹⁴ Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.”

But I will say this, the longhair was the most innocent part of the hippie movement, but it was a precursor (harbinger) of greater evils to come like drugs, immorality, miscegenation (race-mixing), abortion of White fetuses (whereas life starts at conception so this is abdication of producing offspring), homosexuality and lesbianism (the avoidance of children) and transgenderism. All of these greater evils fulfills Matt. 24:36-37:

“³⁶ But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only. ³⁷ But as the days of Noe were, so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.”

Jude 6-8 enlarges on this theme thusly:

“⁶ And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day. ⁷ Even as Sodom and Gomorrha, and the cities about them in like manner, giving themselves over to fornication [i.e., race-mixing], and going after strange flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. ⁸ Likewise also these filthy dreamers defile the flesh, despise dominion, and speak evil of dignities.”

2 Peter 2:2-6 brings Noah’s days and Sodom and Gomorrha together as one and the same moral degeneracy:

“² And many shall follow their pernicious ways; by reason of whom the way of truth shall be evil spoken of. ³ And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you: whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not. ⁴ For if Yahweh spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment; ⁵ And spared not the old world, but saved Noah the eighth person, a preacher of righteousness, bringing in the flood upon the world of the ungodly; ⁶ And turning the cities of Sodom and Gomorrha into ashes condemned them with an overthrow, making them an ensample unto those that after should live ungodly ....”

So this is the full situation I was up against in my barber business in the 1960s, but wasn’t able to identify, at that time, the reason/s it was happening. It would take several years of research on my part to come to a full understanding why all of this was developing. When I began to become aware that I needed a better traffic flow into my business, and one by one other barbers were going out of business on account of the long hair, I decided to build another “waiting sign” attached on top of my large barbershop sign on Countyline street to indicate how many, if any, customers were “ahead”. I still had the electrical control box that I had used at my former downtown location in the basement under the Candyland restaurant. At this time, I had my building that was formerly a recreation room remodeled for a barbershop ready (and had moved out of the old house I used for a temporary quarters), which still needed a little more finish work, but sufficed in everything I needed. I was probably three or four weeks building this sign between haircuts and in the evenings. This time the sign read “0-1-2, Ahead”. I omitted the “3-4-5” that I had downtown. Of course there was a 100 watt bulb over each of “0-1-2” numbers. If I had 3 or more customers ahead, I simply turned the waiting sign off. Inasmuch as this remodeled building set back about 125 feet from the entrance, I needed a pilot light on my control box to indicate whether or not a bulb on the sign was burned out. Since this waiting sign faced both north and south, it read the same on both sides, and there were three bulbs on each side to keep track of. The 0s-1s-2s were wired in parallel, so for instance if one of the “0” lights (north or south) burned out, the pilot on my switch box would turn dim, or if both “0” lights burned out, the pilot light would turn dark for lack of electric current. The first full week I used this new waiting sign, my receipts at barbering increased about one hundred dollars, and continued approximately at that amount for quite some time.

This wasn’t the end of the line, though, for the downward spiral for the overall demand for barbering was continuing to decrease. The bottom line was, I was managing to hold my own in spite of the lack of demand. Then unbeknown to myself, what few barbers there were left in business would be hit by one more heavy, inhibiting blow! I started to have longtime customers announcing to me usually after getting a last haircut from me, saying something like this: “Mr. Emahiser, I really like the way you have cut my hair over the years, but my daughter has gone to beauty school, and she will now be cutting my hair in the future.” After all, blood is thicker than water, and what else could I do but kindly thank him for the patronage he gave over the years? The first two or three times I got this or a similar remark from a customer, I really didn’t completely comprehend how it might effect my business. After all, I was doing quite well holding my own in spite of everything. I eventually found out that one of the occupational consultants at the high-school was recommending nearly every female should go to beauty school. Up to this time, Ohio differentiated a barbers license from the license of a beautician. For instance, a beautician was not allowed to display a barber-pole, but suddenly a beautician could place a revolving barber-pole inside her front window! This allowed a beautician to absorb a good portion of the already declining barber business, which they did!

From 1965 until 1971 the barber business as a whole continued to be a struggle with a constant shifting going on. More and more of my customers were driving longer distances to receive my service. I had several steady customers driving a 100 mile round trip just to get me to cut their hair. The Fostoria Chrysler foundry had closed its doors and moved its operation to Kokomo, Indiana with a group of employees who went along with them some 225 miles from Fostoria. Some of those employees who transferred to Kokomo found room and board there, and would return to Fostoria to spend an occasional weekend with their family. On their return to be with their family, they would often make an effort to stop around at my barber shop for a haircut. There were other factories in Fostoria which were either closing down or drastically scaling back their operations in Fostoria, where I had other former customers that would look me up whenever they had occasion to be in Fostoria. As a result of this shifting around, I began to have overly busy days and overly slow days. What that meant was, when the customers decided to come, I had to be prepared to take them. When I did have an overly busy day, I usually couldn’t find the time to eat my lunch, or part of my lunch unless a customer missed his appointment at most any time in the afternoon.

About this same time my favorite barber supply man stopped around one day and introduced me to the Wahl vacuum clipper system. Here he came in the door with a unit already assembled, and ready to use. All I had to do was plug it into the electricity and lift the clipper off a tray attached to a standpipe over the vacuum cleaner. I proceeded to use the vacuum clipper for about five minutes, and I asked my supply man, “Willis, how soon can you get a unit like this to me,?” I was so excited about it, I could hardly wait until UPS delivered this new unit to me! The first few days using this Wahl vacuum clipper system, I noticed that I was cutting hair faster than my schedule, and I realized I could work in an extra customer each hour, and that would amount to ten extra customers on those overly busy days.

At first I was mystified as to why I was cutting hair faster using the Wahl vacuum clipper system. After thinking about it for quite some time I came to the conclusion it was somewhat like a carpenter building a house with a helper following him up by sweeping up the sawdust and keeping the working area neat, clean and orderly that the carpenter could get much more work done in a day. I also found that the customers just loved the vacuum clippers, as when they left the shop they didn’t have any loose clippings of hair down their back to irritate them the rest of the day, until they took a shower. As a result, my customers who usually waited for a late afternoon appointment, started to come in or make an appointment during their noon hour. And as all the farmers used to say, “You got to make hay while the sun shines.” And the sun was shining during the noon hour for me. I bought myself a small oven with a thermostat and hooked it to a timer to come on about 11 A.M. at about 125 degrees. That way I had a warm lunch when I could find the time to eat it somewhere between 12 noon and 5 P.M.

There were a lot of barbers who started to install vacuum clippers in their barbershops, but because they still used the scissors over the comb, they still left hair clippings to go down the customer’s back and defeated part of the purpose of using vacuum clippers in the first place. Secondly, the other barbers used procedures taught in barber schools that weren’t compatible with vacuum clippers, so they soon laid their vacuum clippers aside and stopped using them altogether. It just so happened that my barbering procedures were compatible with the vacuum clippers, and I had no trouble whatsoever mastering them from the very beginning. As the old saying goes: “One man’s poison is another man’s food.”

I wasn’t completely satisfied with the Wahl vacuum clipper system, and spent the next couple of years customizing both the vacuum supply and the vacuum clippers. The first customizing I did was to attach a vacuum hose to a fine toothed “Outliner” clipper to shave around the ears and the back of the neck. I first epoxied a ¾ inch diameter plastic pipe about one inch long over the top of the plastic case right behind the cutting blades. This way the vacuum had to travel past the vibrator arm inside of the motor. It worked well, and there wasn’t any hair buildup inside of the motor. Now the Wahl vacuum clipper system had a tray fitted to an aluminum stand pipe that was fastened to the lid of the Wahl vacuum motor. On this tray there could be placed two Wahl vacuum clippers. Wahl designed it that way so two barbers could share one vacuum motor. Inasmuch as I worked by myself, I didn’t need that extra Wahl vacuum clipper, so I placed the customized outliner shaver in its place. At the top of the stand pipe which stood about 44 inches above the floor there was a plastic plumbing-like tee that supplied vacuum to two vacuum clipper devices, with leaf switches to turn the vacuum on and off automatically. I would later design a pigeonhole system with leaf switches to turn both the vacuum clipper and the vacuum motor on and off automatically. Not having to turn these devices on and off by hand saved me some time to concentrate on other important things.

The one thing I missed with the Wahl vacuum clipper system was my Oster AC/DC motor driven clippers. Finally, Oster designed a vacuum attachment that could be fitted over the motor, and the vacuum was fairly quiet, although I had to rework the mouth of the vacuum to make the edges of the mouth pick up the hair as well as the center of the mouth. I finally ran all of my vacuum devices to the back room where there were three vacuum motors on a shelf (one vacuum motor for each vacuum clipper). Another thing I did when I placed my vacuum motors in the back room was to hang the vacuum hoses from the ceiling to the vacuum clipper, which reduced the weight of the vacuum hose about 80%, making the vacuum clippers much easier to handle. So the bottom line is, my vacuum clipper system more than offset the business I was losing to the beauticians. Although I was doing well, my barber business was fluctuating greatly. I found myself in a position where I wasn’t sure just what might happen next, observing other barbers failing.

Once before, I had started a mail order clipper blade sharpening business to supplement my barbering income. I operated it in the back room between barbering customers, which I had to eventually quit because I couldn’t find the time to continue doing it. I had purchased a used commercial clipper blade lap-grinder from my barber supply man, Willis, but the motor was missing, whereupon I went down to the local Army and Navy surplus store and purchased a used washing machine motor. I also reworked the v-belt pulley system to get the lapping wheel to turn at about 900 R.P.M. This clipper blade lapping grinder worked quite well, but I found out that if I could have the surface reworked with a slight taper, I could get the hollow grind on the clipper blades that I needed. So I took my lap grinder to a machine shop and had them to re-mill the cast-iron surface. It was a cast-iron wheel 11 inches in diameter. I had them taper a nine thousandth of an inch drop from the center to the edge of the wheel. When I got the resurfaced lapping wheel back, and ground a set of clipper blades on it, I was simply amazed how well the hollow ground clipper blades worked! It was like cutting cold butter with a hot knife! Dull clipper blades will push the hair ahead of the blade, whereas a sharp clipper blade will not, making for precision cutting, and not having to go over that portion of hair three or four times with non-precision results. These extra-sharp clipper blades were especially helpful when it came to free-handing flattop haircuts. Before, when I was still in the basement downtown under the Candyland restaurant, I advertised in The Barbers Journal to get started in my sideline clipper blade sharpening business. This second time I started by word of mouth to the local dog groomers, and expanded from there. I even wrote an article for the Groom & Board magazine for August, 1989 with several pictures of properly and improperly ground clipper blades on pages 14 and 15 entitled “Sharpening Services – How to Be Sure You Get Your Money’s Worth”.

Somewhat earlier, though, the biggest financial break that I got was when I was able to sell a portion of my large lot where my barbershop was located on Countyline street (while keeping the portion I needed for my business) to the Marathon Oil Company for a filling station. Actually the old dilapidated house I had used as a temporary quarters I was contemplating on tearing down anyway, and by selling that portion of my lot, it saved me the expense for doing so. Anyway, according to my records, I paid off all of my debt to the Citizens Savings and Loan Association, Tiffin, Ohio, by March of 1971. My wife and I then pledged to ourselves to continue out-of-debt from that time forward.

To say the least, after paying off all of our debt, I felt relieved but not entirely safe, so I continued my sharpening business and expanded it to include many other items. I purchased a lot of Foley sharpening equipment. Besides clipper blades, I sharpened everything from lawnmower blades to end mills and carbide saws and milling cutters for machine shops. If I wasn’t busy behind the barber chair, I was busy in the back room doing some kind of sharpening! But the time would come when I would discontinue all of the sharpening, and use all of my spare time researching firstly the great conspiracy, and then eventually, the Almighty would open my eyes to Christian Israel Identity, and my life would never again be the same. Once I knew we White, Caucasian, European, Americans were the Israelites of the Old Testament, I tackled these subjects with the same vigor as I used to outpace my competitors in the barber business. In the barber business, I capitalized on the other barber’s mistakes, and in Israel identity I am quick to disprove any false doctrine from whomever it may come! I am now using my competitive skills to promote Yahshua’s Kingdom!

This is my two hundred and eleventh monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last letter, WTL #210, I explained how I finally finished remodeling what was before a garage with a 20 x 20 foot recreation room attached to the garage for my barber business. By the time that I finally got into this newly remodeled building, the long hair of the 1960s was already having a negative effect on the barber trade.

When I originally opened my barber business in Fostoria, Ohio in 1954, I named my establishment, “Emahiser’s Barber Shop”, and worked under that name until about 1965. Of course, I advertised my barber service by this same name. Somehow I had obtained a copy of the Toledo, Ohio telephone book, and glancing through the yellow pages, I noticed that several TV antenna services were adjusting the names of their businesses to be the very first name in both the yellow and white pages. Generally, at that time, the barber business was gradually slowing down, and getting slower, so I theorized that if I could change the name of my business in the Fostoria, Ohio telephone book, my business would be listed first in both the white and yellow pages under “Barbers”. For many years the AAA (American Automobile Association) held that position. I eventually renamed my barber shop “A-1 Barber Service”. To make sure this would be the way my business would be listed, I called the Ohio Bell Telephone business office, and they assured me that my new DBA would place me first, both in the white pages and yellow pages, under “Barbers” in the Fostoria telephone book. People really are not aware of it, but habitually they will pick the first listed business for a service.

Also in WTL #210 I explained ... that the biggest financial break I got was when I was able to sell a portion of my large lot where my barbershop was located on Countyline street (while keeping the portion I needed for my business) to the Marathon Oil Company, for a filling station ... Anyway, according to my records, I paid off all of my debt to the Citizens Savings and Loan Association, Tiffin, Ohio, by March of 1971. With this lesson, I will give the reader a general church affiliation overview of my wife and I, which is quite varied:

My father, George Emahiser, was born in a family of thirteen children fathered by my grandfather, Clifton Emahiser, (my namesake) in 1903. I have absolutely no recollection of anyone in my father’s immediate family having any kind of a church background. If any of them did, I never heard about it. My grandfather Emahiser and family were simply tenant share farmers, working all summer to survive the following winter. Most of the Emahisers were hard workers, but one or two weren’t worth the powder to blow them up. They would go around getting credit on my father’s and my good name, then the bill collectors would try to get us to pay their delinquent bills. This went on for about twenty to thirty years, and as one might surmise, the rest of us avoided them like the plague.

My mother, Grace Emahiser, was born in a family of three children, fathered by my other grandfather, Art Keiser (my middle namesake), in 1910. My middle name given me at my birth was “Art”, but by the time the doctor that delivered me got my data to the courthouse in Seneca County, it was wrongly registered as “Arthur”, and we didn’t find out the mistake until I was getting ready to join the Navy. Rather than going through a lengthy legal process to have my middle name corrected, I decided to leave the matter as it was in order to prevent problems in the future. There was a period of time when boys were given two-letter first names, as it showed a degree of importance to some parents. If I remember correctly, my grandfather Keiser’s original first name was simply “RT”, but everyone called him “Art”. Actually, when I came back home from the Seneca County courthouse with a copy of my birth certificate for the Navy, my mother accused me of purposely changing my name, and I had absolutely nothing to do with it! To avoid a lot of confusion, I simply use the initial “A.” when signing my middle name. Be that as it may, my middle name is questionable! I do, though, consider it an honor to be named after my two grandfathers!

The maiden last name of my grandmother on the Emahiser side was McMaster, and the maiden last name of my grandmother on the Keiser side was Crawford, and both McMaster and Crawford are Scottish names, and the Scottish are closely related to the Irish. Both the family names of Emahiser and Keiser are German. Interestingly, the only church connection of my parents and grandparents is that my grandmother Crawford was a Dunkard (also known as “Dunkers”), which later took the name Church of the Brethren which originated at Schwarzenau, Germany in 1708, as part of the Pietist protest against the state church.

Also interestingly, this sect adopted the religious rite of immersion three times forward – a love feast (including a meal, the Eucharist, and the washing of the saints’ feet), anointing of the sick with oil, laying on of hands for Christian service, congregational church government, and opposition to war oaths, secret societies, and worldly clothes and habits. This accounts for why my uncle Merrill Keiser, when drafted into the army for WW II, refused to take a war oath and thus classified as a conscientious objector, and was assigned to the medical corps. At least my uncle Merrill, being a German, wasn’t issued a gun to shoot and kill other Germans! At the time my uncle Merrill was drafted, Japan had not yet entered WW II.

The next story I am going to relate, I am not sure of all of the details, but I will recount it as best I can. Before this time, somewhere just at the beginning of the 1929 great depression, the Church of the Brethren was located at the corner of Union and Liberty streets in Fostoria, Ohio. Evidently, just before the depression struck, while the prosperity of the 1920s was running wild, the Church of the Brethren had a building program going on. I got the story from one Lester Bashore who owned and managed Bashore’s Coal Company. For as long as I can remember, up until the 1950s, nearly everyone in Fostoria heated their homes and businesses with coal. Bashore’s Coal Company was located on east Center street, right next to the New York Cental and C&O railroads, which run north and south, side by side. Lester Bashore had his own private side track where four or five railroad coal cars could be delivered so that Lester could unload them at his convenience. Lester also had five or six small ½ to ¾ ton trucks, and a crew of drivers to deliver the coal. About every house had a basement window that could be opened and a coal-shoot placed in the window so the coal could be shoveled from the bed of the truck into a special coal room, usually in the basement of the house. There were probably some locations where that coal had to be wheelbarrowed to the open basement window.

Anyway, when I was working at Clifford Shuman’s barbershop in Fostoria in 1950 when Shuman was mayor, he divided his time between mayoral office and his barbershop, Lester Bashore was one of Shuman’s longtime steady customers, but occasionally, when Shuman wasn’t available, I would cut Lester Bashore’s hair. After Shuman was voted out of office in November of 1950, and nearly everyone was avoiding Shuman’s barbershop, I quit and moved to Long Beach, California, and got a job at Douglas Aircraft. In 1954 I returned to Fostoria to start my own barbershop, and I can count on one hand the number of customers I drew from Shuman’s barbershop, and Lester Bashore wasn’t one of them. Shuman then died about 1957, and I was asked to be one of three who would fire a military salute at the Fostoria cemetery when they buried him. After Shuman died, I don’t know where Lester Bashore started to get his haircut, but he didn’t come to my barbershop until about the 1980s, and he always made an appointment on a Saturday, shortly after noon when he had closed the office of his coal and limited building supply company.

About that same time the demand for haircuts dropped drastically, as during the warm months nearly everyone would leave Friday evening after work and spend the entire weekend at the lake, to return home late Sunday afternoon. Then, during the fall, winter and spring, nearly everyone would eat a late breakfast on Saturday, then turn on the TV for the pre-game warm-up prognostication of who might win or who might lose, followed by two or three games of football, basket ball or baseball. As a result, receipts dropped so low on Saturdays that it wasn’t worth the time to be open, so I changed my hours to Monday through Friday, 8 A.M. to 6 P.M., and I started to have a two day weekend like everyone else. Immediately, my customers began to respond favorably to my new hours, except for Lester Bashore, who got miffed, and very angrily announced to me he would never be back. The reason I am relating all of this is because those few times during the 1980s that Lester Bashore was coming to my barber shop, he told me a story about my grandfather, Art Keiser.

Like I said before: Evidently, just before the depression struck, while the prosperity of the 1920s was running wild, the Church of the Brethren had a building program going on, as told by Lester Bashore, who owned and managed Bashore’s Coal Company.

It should be realized, usually when a church plans a building program, (and I am not sure whether it was a remodeling program or new construction) that the church board of elders would select someone to determine the amount of material needed, and authorize that person to get bids and then make the purchase from the lowest bidder. Evidently, my grandfather was put in charge by the church elders to get the sheet-metal necessary for the furnace warm and cold air ducts, and any other sheet-metal items such as eaves and downspouts etc.

Lester Bashore told me that my grandfather ran up a big bill for these items for the Church of the Brethren, and never paid for it, and Lester Bashore sort of insinuated that someone in my family should pay this 50+year old bill. Because of the 1929 great depression, maybe the Church of the Brethren had to declare bankruptcy, and the property was auctioned off to the highest bidder. It may have happened that the Evangelical Church with headquarters at Cleveland, Ohio & Harrisburg, Pennsylvania were instrumental in the purchase of this property. All I know is, the Evangelical Church at the corner of Union and Liberty streets, in Fostoria, Ohio, is the first church that I can remember my immediate family attending! This was not the church of my Keiser grandparents!

From the book The New International Dictionary of the Christian Church, by Editor J.D. Douglas, p. 360, we read the following:

“EVANGELICAL CHURCH: (Albright Brethren). An American Protestant denomination founded by Jacob Albright (1759-1808), a Pennsylvania tilemaker and farmer. Following his conversion to evangelical Christianity in 1791, Albright, though raised as a Lutheran, associated himself with a class meeting of the Methodist Episcopal Church and was licensed as a lay preacher. In 1796 he undertook a preaching mission in German throughout east Pennsylvania. Though he and his followers were on friendly terms with the English-speaking Methodists led by Francis Asbury, the language barrier made it necessary for the Evangelicals to create their own independent organization.

“Stressing a personal and experiential relationship with God, the Evangelicals held their first council in 1803. The first annual conference of preachers was in 1807, and a book of Discipline was adopted in 1809. In 1816, eight years after the death of its founder, the first general conference of the ‘so-called Albright People’ named its new denomination the Evangelical Association. In 1891, controversies led to a schism and the birth of the United Evangelical Church (1894). In 1922 the two groups were reunited in the Evangelical Church. Negotiations with another Wesleyan denomination of predominantly German background, the United Brethren in Christ, led in 1946 to the creation of the Evangelical United Brethren Church. In 1968 this body merged with the Methodist Church to form the United Methodist Church, healing the division caused by the old language barrier and bringing together into one body the church of Francis Asbury and the church of Jacob Albright.” [Note: It should be noted that Jacob Albright would have been somewhat contemporary with Benjamin Franklin.]

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was being influenced indirectly by the Church of the Brethren and the Evangelical Church. Inasmuch as I was closer to my grandmother Keiser and my uncle Merrill than any of the other members of both the Emahiser and Kieser families, it is obvious the tenets of the Church of the Brethren were being rubbed off on me without my being aware of it. Also inasmuch as the Church of the Brethren had adopted the false doctrine of futurism, with a secret rapture and all of that, and because I was under the impression that my uncle knew everything there was to know about the Bible, I accepted futurism hook, line and sinker! I thank Almighty Yahweh that He saw fit to break asunder this distorted influence, and open my eyes to the truth of Christian Israel Identity! Not only that false doctrine, but I gradually became aware that nearly everything the churches were advocating was 180º from the truth. At that point, I had to go back to square one and start all over from the beginning, and it took about fifteen years of serious research and intensive study to get all my ducks in row. After 35+ years there are still a few kinks that show up here and there which need to be addressed, but when I become aware of these kinks, I willingly yield to the truth as it is revealed. In the mid-1980s I ran into a kink that took me 15 years to resolve.

Soon after I had first started my ministry by USPS mail, in 1998. (my wife, Tillie, had died in 1993), one day three men from the local Church of the Brethren knocked on my door, and it wasn’t very far into the conversation that they brought up the subject of Christ’s near second coming, and how we should be prepared for the rapture. These three were respectful men of the community, so I told them in a courteous manner that I had a ministry of my own, and that I didn’t teach a future rapture. By the look on their faces, I am sure they thought that I was stark raving mad. My own thought was, these three men were typical of the Church of the Brethren, along with about 95%+ of the churches of today! Being that when I had a heart attack, and they were flying me in a helicopter up to the Medical College of Ohio in Toledo, I promised Yahweh if He would get me through it, I would sell my barbershop, along with the equipment and building, and I would spend the rest of what remained of my life teaching the “Elijah” message of Malachi 4:5-6, which I have done. No longer depending on the public for my living, I was able to respond to those three men in a polite but stern demeanor. When serving the public, the customer is buying one’s time and skill, and can insist the server promote his own political and religious opinions on his own time. That public person is one’s boss, and he has the privilege of firing you (the service-giver) for the slightest indiscretion! All I can advise is: There is a time to speak and a time to remain quiet! Now if the acquaintance is not business related, one would be in a better position to bring up the subject of Israel Identity, but even then one should use caution, as this controversial truth provokes the wrath of the gentlest of people!

As the purpose of this lesson is to give the reader some idea concerning my past church affiliation, I will have to repeat a portion of my Watchman’s Teaching Letter #203 for March, 2015 thusly:

After this, I found myself ready for my summer vacation between the second and third grades, and my memory is a bit fuzzy from June to December, 1935. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there had been some trouble brewing between my father and mother for some time, but as an eight year old boy, I couldn’t detect it ... Somewhat later that same summer, I found myself living with my grandfather and grandmother Keiser, along with my uncles Merrill and Lowell. Suddenly, I did not see or hear anything of my father or mother, and my younger sister was also absent. It seemed as though all three of them had simply disappeared into thin air.

I do have one item in my possession which documents where I was in the month of December, 1935. It seems that my uncle Merrill Keiser thought I needed a Bible for Christmas, and he evidently stopped into a Five and Dime store to get me one (or he might have gotten it from the American Bible Society). Although the print is quite small, there is no text missing in either the Old or New Testaments. Inside the front cover, my uncle Merrill wrote: “To Clifton Art from his uncle Merrill for Christmas, 1935.”

Upon receiving this Bible, I could not understand why my uncle Merrill would want to give me such a thing, for in my short life of eight years I could not remember one time when my father or mother attended a church or spoke of Biblical things. I thought to myself, “well here’s this Bible, what am I going to do with it?” After considering this, I decided to start reading the end of the book to see how everything turned out. After fumbling the Bible around for a little while, I finally managed accidentally to open it at Revelation chapter 12, and all the words seemed so large it frightened me. By that time, though, I had learned to read slowly, very carefully sounding out each word, syllable by syllable.

The first verse seemed to be talking about some strange woman having twelve stars over her head. Then there was the very large word, “travailing”, whatever that meant or however it was pronounced. (One must remember, I was only eight years old, going on nine.) I could make out that it had something to do with a child of some kind. Then things really got complicated as it started to speak of “a great red dragon” with a disproportionate number of horns and crowns. Then in verse four, somehow this dragon uses his tail to drag one third of the stars out of heaven to persecute the woman’s child (whatever that meant). These were terrible things to imagine in the mind of an eight year old boy! Then, it spoke of someone by the name of “Michael” (whoever he is/was), who is going to get in a war with some terrible creatures: “old serpent”, “the Devil” and “Satan”!

Although I didn’t understand what I was reading at that time, this passage would become the main theme of my writing for the last seventeen years. Had I done well in school, I would have been brainwashed by our educational system and may never have come to the light of our Christian Israelite Identity Message! As a result of missing most of the second grade, I had to do the third grade twice, and the forth grade twice.

Well, getting back to the time I spent living with my grandfather and grandmother Keiser, and my two Keiser uncles. Things were changing for the better concerning my parents. I only know these things because I have been able to pick up bits and pieces of the story over the years. There was a minister in Fostoria at the Evangelical Church who, along with his wife, took interest in the situation with my parents. I don’t know just what the original problem was, nor how the problem was resolved, but what I do know is one Sunday morning someone in the Keiser household got me up early and dressed me up to go to church. The church was about three blocks away, and my uncle Merrill walked me over to the church and introduced me to someone in charge of the children’s Sunday School, which had already started. This lady took me down to the basement and placed me with the group that would be my class. But before we went to our classrooms, the children’s assembly sang the first song I ever heard in any church! The song was entitled, Jesus Loves All The Children, and the words go like this: “Jesus loves all the children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they’re all precious in His sight, Jesus loves all the children of the world.”

After a period of about 40 years, since I first heard this song, Yahweh finally turned the light of the Christian Israel Message on for me, and I came to the realization that this song promoted a damnable lie, although I am sure that Karl Marx and Ivan Pavlov (aka, Petrovich) would have been very happy with it! I didn’t know it at the time, but years later I realized that Yahweh was preparing me for the ministry I have today. But as it turned out, that church as a whole became both a curse and a blessing to me, in more than one way! Although I never remember either of my parents or sister ever going to church before this, all at once we were attending church every time the doors were open! [End of portion repeated from WTL #203.]

The reader, understanding my background, should begin to comprehend where I am coming from, and the reason I write as I do! When my father and mother resolved their marriage problem/s, they started to attend the Evangelical Church on the corner of Union and Liberty streets in Fostoria, Ohio, and this included three or four protracted revival meetings every year. The church would usually invite and sched- ule an out-of-state preacher to be the guest evangelist (some of whom might have done much better had they become high-pressure used car salesmen)! The sermon topic by the various evangelists was more often than not, tepid blather about “rings and things and buttons and bows”. One evangelist, not getting any response, after a long drug-out altar-call pointed to the back pew where I was sitting, and declared: “There is someone sitting in that back pew [on the south side of the auditorium] that needs to come to this altar today.” Not knowing whether this evangelist was pointing at me or the young men sitting with me, I got up out of my seat and walked out of the church. On my way out, this evangelist loudly yelled, saying: “That young man is going straight to hell”! Funny thing, I know that both my father and mother, along with my sister, were at that church service, and when we all arrived back home, not a single word was mentioned, then or ever, about the above incident! Maybe this so-called evangelist should have gone to the Congo and tried to convert “little black Sambo”, like in the untrue ditty (i.e., short simple song): “Jesus loves all the children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they’re all precious in His sight, Jesus loves all the children of the world”!

On another occasion, sometime after the above incident, Pastor Fox announced to his congregation that the church was having diffi- culty scheduling an evangelist to hold a revival meeting (which usually lasted a week or two, every weekday evening, and morning and even- ing on Sundays). Customarily, these special revival meetings were announced well ahead of time as the laity was expected to adjust their finances so the church members could cover the evangelist’s traveling expenses, plus a liberal donation (what they called a “love offering”) to the evangelist, over and above the required 10% tithe. And one will have to recall that the 1929 depression was still exerting its monetary distress. Then each year, about two months before Easter, the church would distribute Lenten boxes to anyone who would take them (mem- ber or not), and everyone was expected to deposit any loose change they might have once a day into these Lenten boxes, (and this is when they had silver in the dollar, half dollar, quarter, and dime) and the Lenten boxes would be collected on Easter morning. Maybe we should review the history of Lent to see what its origin is, and why we should reject it. From the following wedsite we read in part:

http://www.catholiceducation.org/en/culture/catholic-contributions/histo...

“History of Lent by Father William Saundres:

“What are the origins of Lent? Did the Church always have this time before Easter? Lent is a special time of prayer, penance, sacrifice and good works in preparation of the celebration of Easter. In the desire to renew the liturgical practices of the Church, The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy of Vatican Council II stated, ‘The two elements which are especially characteristic of Lent – the recalling of baptism or the preparation for it, and penance – should be given greater empha- sis in the liturgy and in liturgical catechesis. It is by means of them that the Church prepares the faithful for the celebration of Easter, while they hear God’s word more frequently and devote more time to prayer’ ... The word Lent itself is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words lencten, meaning ‘Spring,’ and lenctentid, which literally means not only ‘Springtide’ but also was the word for ‘March,’ the month in which the majority of Lent falls.

“Since the earliest times of the Church, there is evidence of some kind of Lenten preparation for Easter. For instance, St. Irenaeus (d. 203) wrote to Pope St. Victor I, commenting on the celebration of Easter and the differences between practices in the East and the West: ‘The dispute is not only about the day, but also about the actual character of the fast. Some think that they ought to fast for one day, some for two, others for still more; some make their ‘day’ last 40 hours on end. Such variation in the observance did not originate in our own day, but very much earlier, in the time of our forefathers’ (Eusebius, History of the Church, V, 24). When Rufinus translated this passage from Greek into Latin, the punctuation made between ‘40’ and ‘hours’ made the meaning to appear to be ‘40 days, twenty-four hours a day.’ The importance of the passage, nevertheless, remains that since the time of ‘our forefathers – always an expression for the apostles – a 40-day period of Lenten preparation existed. However, the actual practices and duration of Lent were still not homogenous throughout the Church.

“Lent becomes more regularized after the legalization of Christi- anity in A.D. 313. The Council of Nicea (325), in its disciplinary can- ons, noted that two provincial synods should be held each year, ‘one before the 40 days of Lent.’ St. Athanasius (d. 373) in his ‘Festal Letters’ implored his congregation to make a 40-day fast prior to the more intense fasting of Holy Week. St. Cyril of Jerusalem (d. 386) in his Catechectical Lectures, which are the paradigm for our current RCIA programs, had 18 pre-baptismal instructions given to the cate- chumens during Lent. St. Cyril of Alexandria (d. 444) in his series of ‘Festal Letters’ also noted the practices and duration of Lent, empha- sizing the 40-day period of fasting. Finally, Pope St. Leo (d. 461) preached that the faithful must ‘fulfill with their fasts the Apostolic institution of the 40 days,’ again noting the apostolic origins of Lent. One can safely conclude that by the end of the fourth century, the 40-day period of Easter preparation known as Lent existed, and that prayer and fasting constituted its primary spiritual exercises.

“Of course, the number ‘40’ has always had special spiritual sig- nificance regarding preparation. On Mount Sinai, preparing to receive the Ten Commandments, ‘Moses stayed there with the Lord for 40 days and 40 nights, without eating any food or drinking any water’ (Ex 34:28). Elijah walked ‘40 days and 40 nights’ to the mountain of the Lord, Mount Horeb (another name for Sinai) (I Kgs 19:8). Most impor- tantly, Jesus fasted and prayed for ‘40 days and 40 nights’ in the desert before He began His public ministry (Mt 4:2) ....”

All of this concocted, perverted reasoning has absolutely nothing to do with the 40 days before Passover! Rather, it was the 49 days after the wave sheaf offering, during Passover, that counted!

Upon Pastor Fox and the elders of the Evangelical Church failing to find a regular evangelist with an open date, they decided to have a woman evangelist (who had received ordination to preach) who had recently married a lay member of our congregation, Dale Stevens, and her name was Pauline. Pastor Fox knew I had walked out of the church on a brash overbearing evangelist, and evidently he undertook to try something different. Looking back, this must have been a setup and all planned out (i.e., rigged) from the very beginning! So Pauline Stevens was chosen to be the evangelist for a revival of probably one week. If it was one week, that would have been evening services Monday through Saturday, and morning and evening on Sunday. Hence, if Pauline wanted to save a lot of lost souls, she would save her best punch-lines for the highest attended service, and that Sunday morning service was noticeably different than usual, and more than likely planned out ahead of time. Pauline evidently gave one of her more intensive tear-jerking sermons aimed at the young teenage girls, but the teenage girls would be, and were, hesitant to respond to it unless encouraged by a young adult lady friend.

It has taken me some seventy years to figure out what was going on at that particular revival meeting, and I believe I am not too far from the truth on the matter. As usual, at the end of an evangelist’s sermon, there were the usual invitational hymns sung; a few courses of “Just as I am”, and a few courses of “Almost persuaded”. But at this revival meeting, all of a sudden there were three or four well-liked, young to middle-age lady friends of the young teenage girls at the meeting, going around the congregation. They would place their hand on the shoulder of the teenager, and would encourage the young girl to accompany her to the altar. My sister was one of the young girls to be invited to the altar in this manner. After there were maybe three or four young teenage girls at the altar, young to middle-aged, well liked men did the same with the young teenage boys. I was snared and ushered to the altar in this second round.

There I was at the altar, with eight or nine other teenage boys and girls, along with their chaperones. The next thing that I knew was there was a whispering campaign going on; each chaperone whisper- ing instructions to his or her neophyte. Hearing bits and pieces of these various instructions from the chaperone acolytes to the teenage neophytes, I became disoriented, with eight or nine question marks in my mind going around in circles! About that same time, someone called for some of the elders of the church to come forward and pray for these new “born again” neophytes. Next, there were several men and women praying quite loudly, each with their own individual prayer, which only increased my disorientation.

This wasn’t the end of the well-set-up and planned, or rigged, program that Pastor Fox and a few of his partisans had in mind. I truly believe this, as in a short while baptismal arrangements were made to be held in Findlay, Ohio, at the Blanchard river beside the city park, just below the dam, where we neophytes and a few others were baptized. The strange thing about it is, in the 24 years I regularly attended the Evangelical Church, that is the only baptismal service I can remember!

Still, this wasn’t the end of the rigged program Pastor Fox, and a few of his partisans had in mind. After we neophytes had been bap- tized, in a couple of weeks arrangements were made for us to join the Evangelical Church! There I was, as a minor, having no lawful author- ity, bulldozed into swearing an oath to live according to the discipline of the Evangelical Church, which I knew little to nothing about! Under this circumstance, my oath was totally non-Biblical, nor would it be honored by the state! I was still under the authority of my parents!

This lesson is an attempt to give the readers of my materials an overview of my religious past. I don’t claim to be anyone special, just a White Adamite awakened to my Israel Identity!

This is my two hundred and twelfth monthly teaching letter and continues my eighteenth year of publication. In the last letter, WTL #211, I discussed my boyhood and teenage church affiliation, which consisted of a mixture of tenets from the Church of the Brethren and the Evangelical Church. Through childhood, I was not aware of who believed what, or why they believed it. It would take years and a kaleidoscope tumbling of events to bring all the bits and pieces together, before they somewhat gelled into a clear picture. My parents often stated, “When Clifton gets on to something, he rides it to death”, and I have to admit they were right. I was never satisfied with the ordinary, as the ordinary bored me to tears.

An example of my riding something to death was when I was a water boy for a farmer, and it came his turn to have his crop of wheat threshed. A group of farmers owned a wheat threshing machine, and in would come several horse drawn wagons and a couple of trucks, and they would serve a thresher’s dinner at noon. Resting after eating the noon meal, several of the farmers started to discuss the going price of wheat. The conversation turned to the Chicago Board of Trade, where they would have to take whatever the jews offered them. From this, it didn’t take me very long to figure out why Hitler didn’t particularly care for the jews, and that Hitler was probably right. Right away, I started to tell everyone I could how the jews were robbing the farmers blind, and that Hitler had the right idea. I continued telling this to everybody I could for several months on end. That’s the way I am, and there is no changing me.

I left off in the last lesson explaining how Pastor Fox and a few of his partisans at the Evangelical Church in Fostoria, Ohio used a woman evangelist by the name of Pauline Stevens to preach a tear-jerking sermon, using popular male and female chaperones to pressure the young teenage girls and boys to go forward to the altar, then scheduling baptism and then formal church membership. Although both my sister and I were sucked into this, neither of us displayed any demeanor of conversion. Not only that, there was no Bible study or spiritual guidance on the part of our father or mother, outside of my father returning thanks at the dinner table. Evidently, our parents left all of that responsibility to the Sunday school teacher! So going to church for my sister and I, it was just something that was demanded of us, and was just a matter of going through the motions to get it over with. And that’s the way it continued until I entered the Navy on December 7, 1944.

When I joined the Navy, I was only seventeen years old, and my father had to sign for me to be eligible. When joining the Navy, it was for the duration of WW II, which at that time they estimated would last another ten years. But when the United States dropped the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it shortened the war considerably. Then, I was transferred from signal school back to general duty, sent to a Philippine ship repair base, then transferred to the tanker, USS Monongahela, and later discharged July 6, 1946 at Great Lakes, Illinois.

When I returned home to Fostoria, Ohio at nineteen years old, my parents had moved to a new address, but they still regularly attended the same Evangelical Church. However, I attended if I didn’t have other things to do, but most of the time I didn’t attend a church anywhere.

I shall now go back and review some of my basic duties overseas in the Navy and bring us up-to-date where we are now.I will repeat what I had written in an article, The Fallacy of the Pentecostal & Charismatic Movements,^#1, as it is a concise description of those duties up until the time I was discharged and living with my parents:

“While in the navy, three of my assigned duties were at a sheetmetal shop, and then I was transferred to be a barber in a 12-chair shop on the island of Manicani (a ship repair base) in the Philippines, and later as the lone barber on the tanker Monongahela (which fueled other ships at Manila and Subic bays after VJ Day). After being discharged and working at various jobs I didn’t much care for, I entered barber school in November of 1946; got a barbering job in Tiffin, Ohio, in September of 1947. That same year; met a very beautiful young lady in December of 1947 by the name of Trillis (Tillie) Almina Moehlman, and married her August 29, 1948.

“Tillie had a very fine Christian grandmother, and she wanted to be just like her, so we were converted and started attending my family’s Evangelical Church. Little did I know then that about 25 years later I would be given the Israel Identity Message, and when I came home one evening, I would have the privilege of telling her we were Israelites, and she never gave me any argument in return. [end quote]

I should point out here that the first time I saw Tillie was when she accompanied John and Marie Crabtree to the Evangelical Church in November of 1947, the same church where my parents and my sister and I had attended for several years. A couple of weeks after I first saw Tillie, Marie asked me if I would like to meet her, and I surely didn’t turn down the invitation!

I have now covered my own church affiliation from about eight years old up until I got married to Trillis (Tillie) Almina Moehlman. Next, I hope to cover the history of the church affiliation of my wife, Tillie, back through her mother Ruth Eileen Moehlman, and the grandmother that my wife, Tillie, loved so well, Almina (Hartman) Carter, second wife of Thomas Corwin Carter. (As a second husband, Almina (Hartman) Carter married Henry Garing.) After Tillie’s loving grandmother had died, December 21, 1949, Tillie’s mother, Ruth Eileen, gave Tillie her grandmother’s Bible, and Tillie wrote on the inside cover: “Trillis Almina (Moehlman) Emahiser, given to me by my mother. This Bible belonged to my beloved grandmother Almina (Hartman) Carter Garing.” After completing Tillie’s church affiliation, I will endeavor to cover the church affiliation Tillie and I had together as husband and wife.

I really have to explain something about Tillie’s grandmother’s, Almina (Hartman) Carter Garing’s, Bible. When I met Tillie’s grandmother, she was quite old, I believe in her 90s, and she was a faithfully devoted, Christian, 100%, although that didn’t make her perfect in all of her beliefs. She had a small military widow’s pension of some kind that fell well short of her living expenses. Her daughter, Ruth Eileen Moehlman had a small two-room building moved onto her lot, and Ruth took care of her the rest of Almina’s life. Almina couldn’t find a church to her liking in Rudolph, Ohio, or in the surrounding area. In Rudolph, Almina had only two choices, the Church of Christ or the Nazarene Church, and she chose the latter. Well, I personally knew the pastor of that Nazarene Church in Rudolph, and his name was Cloyce Elsea, and he was strongly opposed to the Scofield bible, and Tillie’s grandmother’s bible was a Scofield bible. This bible (and I am not about to capitalize “bible”, as I also oppose it) has a copyright of 1917, so Almina could have had this bible for quite some time, but maybe not as long as one might suppose.

In order to determine how long Almina (Hartman) Carter Garing might have had this bible, I first went page by page through the New Testament to check Almina’s pencil written notes along the edges, or wherever space would permit, or lines around certain verses or passages of scriptures she deemed important. At the edge of p. 1002, starting with Matt. 6:2, Almina wrote, “Rev, Kehr’s text, 12-8-1935.” At the top of p, 1174 (end of Acts 17 and beginning of Acts 18), Almina wrote, “Rev. Chamber’s text, Dec. 9, 1938. Rudolph, Mission Church.” At p. 1213, starting with 1 Cor. 1:28, Almina wrote along the edge and top of the page, “Rev. Brafen’s first text at Republic, [Ohio], Sept. 13th, 1936” These three dates of 1935, 1936 & 1938 are significant. Also the binding and cover appear like something of the 1930s, with a rubberized surface over coarse woven cloth to make it appear as leather, and in spite of that, it has held up quite well. Note: Almina above mentions a “Mission Church”, and I believe that the Nazarene denomination often called some of their smaller congregations, “Mission Churches”.

One of the important things to notice here is the fact that two different small towns in Ohio are mentioned, Republic and Rudolph. If I understand my wife Tillie’s family line correctly, Tillie’s grandmother Almina’s second husband, Henry Garing, lived in Republic Ohio. I oft heard it said that Almina was disappointed with her second husband, Garing. It should be noted, then, that Almina (Hartman) Carter Garing was Trillis Almina (Moehlman) Emahiser’s grandmother and Thomas Corwin Carter’s second wife. Thomas Corwin Carter was previously married to Rachel Ellis until she died. Thomas Corwin Carter was also a minister in the Friends Church. If Almina Carter Hartman Garing’s pencil written notes in her Scofield bible are correct, she must have moved from Republic, Ohio to Rudolph, Ohio shortly after 1936, and this was probably the time when Almina’s second husband, Henry Garing died.

The next thing I will endeavor to do is connect my wife, Tillie, with Thomas Corwin Carter, for Thomas Corwin Carter was the father of my mother-in-law Ruth Eileen Moehlman and Ruth Eileen Moehlman was the mother of my wife Trillis Almina (Moehlman) Emahiser. Believe it or not, I have my wife, Tillie’s, genealogical records all the way back to Ireland in the 1600s, thanks to Lena Carter Taylor, Tillie’s cousin, whom Tillie always addressed as “Aunt Lena” because Lena was somewhat her senior.

The records I have at hand include a 59 page “Carter Family History and Genealogy” by Miriam Carter Douglas, 1907, and revised by Elizabeth Berry Buffa, 1971, with Additions & Corrections to Carter Family History, (Edition Limited to 60 Copies, Copy No. 21); and a nine page typewritten letter to Aunt Ann Carter Osborn by her Sister Miriam Carter Douglas, Plymouth, Kansas, December 3, 1912; and a handwritten six column chart consuming six 8½ x11 landscape pages, from 1662 to 1912. Actually, the first 4 and 4/5ths pages cover 1662 to 1912 and 1/5th of page 5 and all of page 6 is an update from 1913 to 6-29-1932, and concludes with Ruth Eileen Moehlman’s six children, Charles Author, Ruth Eileen², Gula Elma, Juanita Aldene, Trillis Almina and Thomas Allen. There is also an 11 page typewritten letter from Ann Carter Osborn, Plymouth, Kansas, Dec. 4, 1912, to her brother George L. Carter.

At this time I will narrow this search down to page 11, in part, at “Carter Family History and Genealogy”

“6.1 Jesse Carter, eldest child of George and Miriam Wilson Carter, was born February 2nd 1806 in Orange Co., North Carolina in the home where his grandfather, John Carter, had settled when he first removed to N.C. In 1811, Jesse’s parents took him to their new home in Clinton, Co., Ohio, which county was his home until April 1865 when he, with his youngest son, a young boy, removed to Plymouth, Lyon Co., Kansas where he remained until 1868, when he and his wife returned to Clinton Co., Ohio on visit, attending Indiana yearly meetings of Friends held at Richmond, Indiana. At Grassy Run he was very sick and died November 6th, 1868 at his brother-in-law’s, Lewis Hunt’s [home], near the church, and was laid to rest in the old burying grounds near his little daughter Rebecca. Jesse Carter and Malinda Bentley were married by Amos Wilson at his home in Clinton County, Ohio on August 7th, 1823. Malinda Carter went back to her home in Kansas for a time, but finally gave up her home and spent her remaining days with her children in Kansas a part of the time, and in Ohio, where she died at her son’s [home], Thomas C. Carter [died], on the morning of January 3rd, 1899, and was laid to rest in the Friends burying grounds at Masseys Creek Church near Old Town, Green Co., Ohio, 21 miles from Grassy Run where her husband was buried ...” [At which time Jesse and Mailnda’s eight children are recorded, and we are especially interested in child number six on page 12 following] ....

“Jesse and Malinda Carter’s 6th child:

“7.6 Thomas Carwin Carter was born October 12th, 1840 in the old home. Married twice – first Rachel Ellis by Friends ceremony in a meeting at Spring Valley, Warren Co., Ohio (date not given), that being their nearest meeting. Her home at the time was a mile north of Old Town, Green Co., Ohio, and three miles from Xenia. They had three children:

“8.1 Lydia Ann Carter Chertton, who lived in Goes, Green Co., Ohio.

“8.2 Charles Address unknown.

“8.3 Miriam, who died in infancy.

“Rachel Ellis Carter died December 1884, or 1883 at her home near Masseys Creek Meeting, and is buried in the cemetery of the above Meeting, which is her family burying place.

“Thomas [Corwin] Carter married his 2nd wife ?????? Hartman. They had one child;

“8.1 Ruth Carter.

“They lived in Wilmington, Clinton Co., Ohio. (see pp. 19 & 20) ...

Pages 19 and 20 in part:

“After Rachel Ellis Carter’s death, Thomas C[orwin] Carter married Almina Hartman of Athens Co., Ohio on October 14th, 1886. They were both living in Wilmington in 1907. Thomas C[orwin] Carter was a minister in Friends church and was successfully so both at Wilmington and Masseys Creek.

“They had four children;

“8.1 Ruth Carter, born 1897 near Oldtown, Ohio.

“8.2 James Carter, born July 26th 1889 who died at birth.

“8.3 and 8.4 not named.”

We have just witnessed two accounts of Thomas Corwin Carter and his first and second wives. The Ruth Carter underlined at “8.1” was later to become Ruth Eileen Moehlman, the mother of Trillis (Tillie) Almina Moehlman, and the “Thomas [Corwin] Carter married ??????” is Almina Hartman of Athens Co., Ohio. Actually, “Ruth Carter” is mentioned in both of the underlined accounts above at “8.1”, as they are the same Ruth Carter, who would become Ruth Eileen Moehlman. It should be noticed here that both Thomas Corwin Carter and Almina Hartman were married twice, as they both had two spouses, and Almina Hartman was the mother of Ruth Eileen Moehlman! I know that this is a bit complex, but that is the way it happened.

Now that we see how all of this ended, let’s determine how it all started. For this, I will use part of the letter Ann Carter Osborn of Plymouth, Kansas wrote to George L. Carter, Dec. 4, 1912:

“The first generation that I know of is Nicholas Carter of Dublin, Ireland and his wife Mary of Droggheda (do not know her maiden name). The older generations in this country said he belonged to the nobility of England but married out of rank and his father disowned him and disinherited him, and went to Ireland, from England, and there started life anew. He was a brick maker and builder by which he became what was then called wealthy. I do not know what it took then to be rich.

“I have no written evidence that this was the fact but I have a copy of the minutes of the records of the people called Quakers of Dublin, Ireland, which gives him and his wife’s names, and one son named Nicholas Carter, who was born about 1675 or thereabouts.

“I have the exact date and that would make the above born sometime from 1640 to 1665 apparently. This second Nicholas, the son of Nicholas and Mary lived in Dublin no doubt with his parents, and he seemed to be wealthy too. He married about 1695 to Margaret Bennyham, daughter of Richard and Margaret Bennyham, of the Friends meeting of Dublin Ireland.

“These people above mentioned were all Friends, so our people must have gone with the Friends, from the first of their rise and holding meetings, in England and Ireland.

“This Nicholas had from about 1698 to 1707 three sons and four daughters born to him. The oldest child died single, and young I think. The next was John who died in infancy. Then came a son Nicholas who married and was a rich man, but had no children to heir his estate. If there ever was an estate in Ireland, that should have came to the Carters, it was his no doubt.

“I will speak of him later. Then in Nicholas II and Margaret’s family, were three daughters, Rebecca was one, the other two I do not recall now. She, Rebecca married Thomas Rutter, of Cheshire, England and they had a family of children, six or seven, all died single, and most of them in infancy except two. One I can’t find, and the other Samuel, I think was in Eastern Pennsylvania in 1773, but that was after our Carters left Pennsylvania for North Carolina. I have not yet been able to find any trace of them.

“This Samuel Rutter was a son of Rebecca. Rebecca’s husband belonged to the nobility of England, but his father disowned and disinherited him because he married a Quaker.

“Thee (you) will see they were married about 40 or 50 years after George Fox began to preach and before the English rulers quit persecuting the Friends, or Quakers as they were called. So, it is not strange that he was greatly incensed at his son marrying a Quaker.

“Thomas Rutter and wife went to Ireland to live. Both died there, he first, but neither lived to be more than middle age. This about the father of Thomas disowning his son for marrying as he did, I get from the letters, the other from records of the Friends Dublin meeting.

“Besides the above children, of Nicholas II and Margaret Bennyham Carter – they had one son, their youngest child named Nathaniel Carter, born in 1707. His mother died in 1730. He came with his father’s full consent in 1731 to Philadelphia. His father died in 1733 – (Nicholas II) the year that Nathaniel Carter married Ann McPherson of near Kennett Friends meeting, Chester County Pennsylvania. They were married in the old Swedish Church in Wilmington, Delaware, December 17, 1733, but lived in Chester County, Pa. until 1766 when Nathaniel Carter and his youngest children and wife went to Orange County, N. Carolina. Already in 1763 his oldest child, John Carter (Thy and my great father on the Carter side), Elizabeth Carter Harvey, and her husband William Harvey and Edith Carter, a single daughter had gone to N. Carolina. Nathaniel and wife both [died] in Orange County N.C., he in May, 1795, and she in September, 1795, and are buried in old Springfield Meeting Cemetery there. Nathaniel Carter never brought his right of membership with Friends to America, but the records in Dublin show that he was never disowned there, so he died a member. Both of Nathaniel’s brothers died young, and the other Nicholas married but left no children. His two sisters besides Rebecca that married I have no knowledge of, except that the Friends records give the birth and marriage dates and says ‘Married by a Priest’. That is the last of any of the sisters, except what I have written about Rebecca and family of the Rutters.

“I will now give you the names of the children of Nathaniel and Ann McPherson Carter, who were all born near Kennett Friends Meeting, Chester County, Pa. First, thy and my great grandfather John Carter, born in December, 1734 married Ann Whiffle of Wilmington, Delaware in the old Swedish Church, the same place his parents were married. He remained in Pennsylvania until 1763, when he went to N.C., as I have written above. He became a great preacher in N.C.

Second, Elizabeth Carter married William Harvey, and in a few years went to Orange County North Carolina, where William died the day of the Battle of Cowpens in the Revolutionary War. She and all her children came to Clinton County, Ohio in 1805, and in 1810 they were all there. She died and is buried in Springfield burying ground about 1830 I think. Nearly all of her children except one or two about 1830 went to Indiana, where they married and intermarried and are still at it in Indiana and Clinton County Ohio, until none of them can tell what their kinship is. The mother of the older Hales was one of Elizabeth Carter Harvey’s daughters, and Jacob Hadley’s mother was her other daughter, Old Aunt Lydia Hadley. That is the way Jacob Hadley and all his brothers and sisters are akin to us and all the Harveys and Hales, except Henry Harvey. They are akin through another channel and no kin to Elizabeth Carter’s family of Harveys on the Harvey side, but are on the Carter side” .... [Note: “intermarriage” above surely not racial intermarriage. CAE]

This would be a good place to discontinue this letter that Ann Carter Osborn of Plymouth, Kansas wrote to George L. Carter, Dec. 4, 1912, as it demonstrates how the Friends (i.e., Quakers) movement came from Ireland and England and later spread throughout North America. Neither do I wish to bore the reader with endless genealogies, although I am sure that some of my readers are very interested in some of the families named here. If any one of you are, I can’t personally help you, as my plate is already full and overflowing with this ministry.

What I have established here, beyond all doubt, is the fact that my wife, Trillis Almina Moehlman’s family background on her mother’s side was definitely from the Society of Friends (i.e., Quakers). Funny thing, from the very first day that I met Trillis (i.e., Tillie) up until I started this research into Tillie’s family background a few days ago, neither Tillie, nor any of the members of her immediate family or close or distant relatives ever so much as mentioned the word, “Quaker”! Occasionally, I did hear the “Friends Church” mentioned, but to me the “Friends Church” was just one of the hundreds of Protestant church denominations in existence at that time. Does the fact that Tillie had a Quaker background cause me in any way to love her less? Tillie died of cancer on Thursday, September 16, 1993 at Flower Memorial Hospital in Sylvania, Ohio. If anything, I find myself loving Tillie more than ever, and I wish she were still living so I could assure her of that, although I surely don’t agree with some of the Society of Friend’s tenets (i.e., principles of belief)!

The question at this time is: How much of the Friends (i.e., Quaker) principles of belief rubbed off onto Trillis Almina Moehlman, who became my wife? With my very close observation of Tillie’s family over many years, I would have to answer, “not much”! According to some of the chroniclers of the Friends Society, there has been a gradual change over the last 125 years in dress, belief and incentive, but the close loving fellowship between the members of the Friends Society remained strong over many years. This Friends Society kinship showed up in Tillie’s family, as they were very close-knit, and showed much love for each other. One of the first things that Tillie noticed about my Emahiser family was that we were cold to each other in contrast to the love her family showed for each other. So when I married Tillie, I gained a love I never knew before, and that seemed a fostered trait from the Friends Society.

The Friends Society had a strong Christian belief that the younger family members had the responsibility to care for their aging invalid parents, and sometimes uncles, aunts and cousins, which we see so little of today. Evidently, some of the Friends Society’s beliefs rubbed off on Tillie’s mother, for when her grandmother, Almina (Hartman) Carter Garing had become aged and an invalid, as well as a widow, Tillie’s mother, Ruth Eileen Moehlman (although it was during the time period while the great 1929 depression lasted, and Tillie’s father had died, and Ruth had little to no income of any kind), managed to have a small two-room building moved on to her own lot, where Tillie’s mother cared for Tillie’s grandmother until her grandmother died in 1949, a year after Tillie and I had married. There are many other ethics among Tillie’s relatives that would match some of the Christian morals the Friends Society embraced.

“MEMORIES OF A QUAKER LASS: (From Party Line – Whittier News, Whittier, Cal., Friday Evening Jan. 22, 1954) in part:

“Miss Mellie Douglas of North Washington Ave., who will celebrate her ninety-third birthday anniversary January 31st, was the daughter of old-time Quaker parents, her father having been a wellknown Friends minister, and some of her earliest memories are filled with mental pictures of the quaint old-fashioned Quaker meeting houses she knew in the East. Little children, even babies, went to meeting, and they kept still, for those earliest meetings were silent meditation meetings with no minister and no speech except as the inner voice prompted someone to speak. (We suspect that small fry were not encouraged to feel so prompted.) There was no music even. Mellie recalls that each meeting house had an ‘uppen block’ in front – a block perhaps four feet by nine feet onto which the church go-ers dismounted from the high-wheeled vehicles that ploughed through the often muddy roads. The meeting house was divided, the men on one side, the women on the other, with a movable partition that could be raised or lowered. It was closed while the men and women each had their business meeting, and when there was communication, a messenger sedately carried notes around the partition.

“Mellie says she never wore Quaker dress, but her mother did. She says the Quaker bonnet made a pretty frame for the face. Although Quaker women in stories are usually pictured wearing quiet gray, Mellie says only the older women wore gray. The Quaker young women and children wore dresses and matching bonnets of pale pink or white or light blue or other soft tint. However, the trim dresses were severely simple, and Mellie remembers that women of one church severely criticized her mother for dressing little Mellie in a green plaid dress with scallops and piping.

“None of the Quaker women could wear jewelry, even wedding rings. Mellie says she yearned for Jewelry and pretties. In fact, it seems that the yearnings of Quaker children made them act as human as any other children, and Mellie remembers doing some things that might seem naughty to grown-ups even today. She made button earrings and attached them to her own ears and those of her little brother by piercing the ears with a needle. Brother did not object ....”

FURTHER MEMORIES OF A QUAKER LASS: On her 95th Birthday; Whittier News, Whittier, Cal., Wednesday Feb. 1, 1956, in part:

“.... Life was real and life was earnest for Quaker maids nearly a century ago. Mellie Douglas was one of the seven children of John Henry Douglas and Miriam Carter Douglas. Her father was an evangelistic Quaker minister and spent 64 years in the ministry, helping organize Quaker (Friend) churches in the Midwest. Mellie’s mother, Miriam, kept the home together.

“Before he became a minister, John Henry Douglas was a tanner and shoemaker. He was born in Maine, son of David and Chloe Douglas, but he migrated to Ohio about 1820. When teaching in Grassy Run Church School, one of the many Quakers established wherever they went, he met and married another teacher, Miriam Carter.

“She recalls the stories her mother told her about the wedding of Miriam and John Henry in 1856. They were married in the Quaker Meeting House at Grassy Run, Ohio, but before that they had to ‘pass the meeting.’ A committee called upon them and questioned them and ‘passed’ them.

“On the wedding day, John Henry sat on one side of the church and Miriam sat on the other. There was no minister. The clerk of the meeting asked John Henry, ‘Is thee willing?’ He said, “I am.’ The question then was put to Miriam and she said, ‘I am willing.’ So the clerk declared them wed. The bride wore shoes made by the bridegroom.

“Her father’s gifts as a minister were so apparent that he was drawn away from the cobbler’s bench. At first, he preached without pay, as was the custom, but later drew a salary. In 1865 and 1866 he preached in Europe and all over the East and Midwest and started many Friends churches. His retirement years were spent in Whittier and Miss Douglas nursed both her parents through years of invalidism.

“She said her father always had a defective heart and was refused for military service after being drafted in the Civil War. The war did not touch the quiet Douglas home in the country near Wilmington, Ohio.

“Early pictures of Mellie’s mother and father show him with heavy beard and whiskers and Quaker coat with small standup collar and no buttons, and show Mellie’s mother in Quaker garb. Miriam discarded her cape and replaced her Quaker bonnet with a lace cap about 1858, and John Henry discarded the plain garb about 1864.

“Mellie’s own school days began in a one room country school at the edge of Wilmington, Ohio. As a little school girl she wore long dresses and high button shoes. Her teachers were women, and she says they drilled her in reading and spelling and arithmetic and taught her to read by the sight of the words, not by the alphabet, as had been done earlier ....” 2 excerpts taken from Lena Carter Taylor’s research.

What we should learn from all of this is, there is only one way for one to draw oneself closer to our Almighty Yahweh in the flesh, Yahshua. Some of the ante-Nicene fathers tried to draw themselves closer to God by having themselves castrated, like Saint Augustine in his book, The City Of God! The Pentecostal and Charismatic tongue-waggers try to draw closer to God by speaking in many unknown tongues. There are several other problematic creeds, too numerous to mention here! Why then, should we be surprised had someone come along promoting, if people would assemble themselves in a meeting house, and place a partition between the men and women (shades of Augustine) and sit quietly, waiting for God’s Spirit to come causing their body to quake, like in “Quaker”?

We have to realize that by the 1600s, many new Bibles had been translated, and some passages varied greatly in rendering, and the few who could afford to obtain a printed copy read things into the Scripture that were not in the original languages, and this brought about a number of various sects. The Society of Friends (Quakers) was such a sect, and viewed natural sexual intercourse as a vulgar sin, thus they separated the men from the women. However, as time went on, the Society of Friends adopted many Scriptural tenets.

The bottom line is, I married a young, beautiful blue-eyed blond lady who had Quakers in her family tree on her mother’s side of her family, and she had all the superb qualities that a man could want in a woman (and she was not a “feminist” in today’s definition of that word)!

Originally, I planned to present, (1) the background of my own church affiliation, then (2) the background of my wife’s church affiliation, and lastly, (3) The church affiliation that Tillie and I had together as husband and wife.

Well, I’ve completed two out of the three, and I will address the last part, #3, in the next Watchman’s Teaching Letter.