Black Klansman: Race, Hate, and the Undercover Investigation of a Lifetime

by Ron Stallworth

the second this Ken hears one of our white officers speaking to him, he’ll know he’s been speaking to a black man on the phone.” “What does a black man talk like?” I asked. “Well, you know…” Arthur trailed off. “No, I don’t know. Explain it to me.” I was met with dead silence.

Traditionally, the burning of a cross, or a “cross-lighting ceremony,” is considered a religious celebration. The burning of a religious symbol has never been seen by Klan members as a sign of desecration; it has always been considered an honorable representation of their Christian faith and beliefs. But they historically used it to strike terror in those who feared the force and wrath of the Klan. In other words, from its very beginning the Ku Klux Klan and its members were dedicated to the cause of domestic terrorism.

As undercover investigators we would never have challenged Ken, who was—I can’t stress this enough—a total idiot. We stroked his ego, made him feel like a great leader. He would never be suspicious of someone who thought he was doing a great job. This was necessary for the success of the investigation.

For a black man in years past to openly refer to a robed Klansman as a “clown” would have been a futile and foolhardy statement of defiance, ignorance, or stupidity. Here in 1978 Colorado Springs, the father showed bold courage by openly challenging the white-robed, Confederate flag symbolism and, while looking Ken straight in the eye, declared to his son and all those around, he was nothing more than a “clown.” A few decades earlier and the result would probably have been a death sentence for the father.

As a matter of fact, when you took away the topic of white supremacy and KKK nonsense from discourse with Duke, he was a very pleasant conversationalist. He seemed like a “regular” guy. Once that topic entered the margins of Klan ideology, however, Dr. Jekyll became Mr. Hyde and the monster in him was unleashed.

I once asked “Mr. Duke,” everyone referred to him respectfully as “Mister,” if he was ever concerned about some smart-aleck “nigger” calling him while pretending to be white. He replied, “No, I can always tell when I’m talking to a nigger.” When I asked him how he could tell, he said the following: “Take you, for example. I can tell that you’re a pure Aryan white man by the way you talk, the way you pronounce certain words and letters.”

I had gotten the Grand Wizard and Colorado Grand Dragon/state organizer of the Ku Klux Klan to agree to have their picture taken with me, one of the “niggers” they despised, who in this case was acting as his bodyguard, and the photographer was the undercover officer I had placed in the group whom they all knew as me: Ron Stallworth.

Success often lies not in what happens but in what you prevent from happening.