The Mattachine Society

This morning’s news via the 700 Club carried a story another homosexual minister was to be ordained as a bishop in  the Episcopal Church. That recalled  memories which supersede further discussion on the chemicals in our food which I had planned to continue writing!

It was approximately 1976, when the charismatic movement was big and I wanted to learn more about it so I began watching Pat Robertson  who many times featured an Episcopal minister on his 700 Club, so when I heard a local Episcopal church was promoting a “life in the spirit” evening class I determined to attend and invited my mother to go with me.  Momma was resisting being “born again, ” said she was tired of being preached at,  but, nevertheless, the class promised a diversion from sitting home alone, so she agreed to go with me.

The first meeting was marred.  We were confined to a small stuffy room with no moving air, no open windows,  and both the “priest” and his wife smoked!  Not only did it seem inappropriate, but it was very rude since there was no way for the seated “prisoners” to escape!

I decided to write a letter to tell  him  I could not imagine The Christ delivering the Sermon on the Mount or John the Baptist preaching with a cigarette between his fingers.  As far as I was concerned, I told him in my letter,  he could smoke all he wanted but to do it under the of a closed room with no circulation, approached the unforgiveable!

In a few days I received a phone call in which he said he read my letter to his congregation which had long wanted him to give up the habit.  He promised not to smoke at the classes so Mother and I attended.  He didn’t promise to quit smoking, however, and so it wasn’t strange a few years later to see him at a funeral and he was still smoking!  Anyway. Mother and I went to his classes on his promise not to asphyxiate us (I had smoked myself for 20 years and was up to 2 packs at day by the end, but had long before quit cold turkey)

At the end of the week’s study on the Holy Spirit, he gave an invitation at the altar to receive Jesus as Lord and Savior and Momma was the first one there!   Mother and I discussed the week’s  program and realized neither of us had ever attended a high church Sunday service.  We decided to attend the following Sunday.

We arrived early. so the sanctuary was pretty empty.  We  usually attended regularly at Chuck Smith’s Santa Ana church and always sat on end seats fairly well down front.  This made it easy to leave if we needed to, without crawling over anyone’s knees.  This was particularly important for me as in those days I often had a spasm of a heart artery, a condition which can be excruciatingly painful.  I  always carried a nitroglycerin pump with me but was reluctant by using it to advertise to the whole church my condition.  

Don’t ask me why, cause I don’t know, on this Sunday we had our choice of the entire sanctuary. So we went to the center, sat in the center row in the center as well as from side to side. Seats filled in around us as the church filled, so we were pretty well hemmed in by the time a  solemn procession filed down the middle aisle, altar boys carrying pennants and incense burners followed by the priest in elaborate robes,  proceeded  to the altar where the priest took his place behind the podium.

He began with an announcement of an important meeting on the patio after the service:  a representative was present to speak to congregants about ordaining homosexual priests.

I looked at Mother. She looked back at me. I said, “You know,  if we left now, we could still get to Chuck’s on time.”  There was a moment’s silence.  I knew she was assessing our predicament, even as I had before even mentioning our  leaving  to her,  sitting in the center, in the middle of a row, with not less than 20 legs to be crawled over on our way to the exit.  For a moment I was afraid she was going to say no.

“Okay,” she said, “Let’s go.”

Mother was dauntless.  The priest’s had continued with his announcements and in the midst of the  next one, whatever it may have been, I don’t know, because we rose.  Even as we were standing up, I knew he stopped speaking to watch this phenomenon.  Getting past all the sitting knees between us and the aisle, and then proceeding up the aisle to the double exit door, was not easy and there was a deathly silence.  We made it!  I then realized the total silence which had fallen, when we stood up in mid-sentence so to speak.  What could you expect from a couple of women who couldn’t tolerate cigarette smoke in a closed room? 

We were  a tad late to Chuck’s and didn’t get our usual seats, but we were there! The very first time I attended Chuck’s church years before, it was nearly  Christmas,  and I heard him reading Scripture to say, “And on earth peace to men of good will—” Not “good will to men.”  It makes a difference. That’s when and why we started attending his church.

Not long afterward this awkward moment,   we went to a ladies’ retreat in the mountains given by Chuck's church.  Kay Smith, his wife,  was the leader. It was only 3 days long but once again the invitation to accept Jesus as the Christ sacrificed for our sins was given.   Mother literally ran down to the  altar. I think she thought it might not have taken at the Episcopal Church the month before!

The priest’s announcement of a homosexual present to speak of ordaining one as a priest in that church, I  remembered some years before  when a man came to see me. who reminded me of descriptions of Alger Hiss’s nemesis, Whittaker Chambers, pudgy, shabby and unkempt.   This man explained he was looking for a place to finish writing a book about the Mattachine Society of which I had never heard.  He introduced himself as a former reporter for the Los Angeles Herald.  Although I invited him in it was not without misgivings, but as I recall now from a far distance, he did stay a few days.

A local doctor concerned about what was happening to our country  made arrangements for a permanent place for Fred Seelig to finish his book, Destroy the Accuser. That did happen some time later, but when Fred first came to the door I was somewhat doubtful.

During his stay he told me about a secret society, The Mattachine Society, organized to promote homosexuals by a Communist Party organizer, Harry Hay.  Many prominent people belonged to it.  Fred had sued his wife for divorce when he discovered she was a practicing lesbian and  was using their two children.  He showed me pictures of her French kissing the little boy. 

He had not anticipated  having any problems with the divorce so he was astonished when the Judge awarded her the divorce and custody of the children!  That was when first learned  of the organization, and he set out on a nationwide search to learn more about this organization, gathering documentary evidence along the way.  In Texas he was seized without papers by U.S. Marshals and removed to the Federal Insane Asylum in Missouri where he spent nearly two years. His files were confiscated.  I suppose it might have been about 1962-3, as I recall Robert Kennedy was Attorney General.

It was a long sad story before Seelig’s book was published and he sent me a copy.  During that time I found no one had ever heard of the Mattachine Society which came and a few years later went and to be superseded by a more radical organization. I noted that Obama’s appointment of Kevin Jennings as one of his Czars, was proud to identify himself as having been mentored by Harry Hay, the Communist founder of the Mattachines.

Hay appeared before a  Congressional  committee in July, 1955 but he refused to answer questions on his CPUSA membership and took the Fifth Amendment .  But when the Internet came along a few years later, he made no secret of it. Rather he boasted of it. 

Anyway, they are all out of the closet now, and Obama  declared last year that June, the traditional wedding month,  is now homosexual month, and  the Episcopal Church has added another Bishop.  Their first such appointment split the church and created the founding of an Anglican Church which split from them.  Presumably there will be more – if there are that many people left who care.

THE THIRD GENDER

Why do you suppose I nearly always start my blogs by saying, “A long time ago” or maybe “Many years ago”? because that’s what I have to say now, many years ago, which will be prehistoric for most of you, I am sure, but anyway, that’s when it was, a long time ago, when  I went to school in a suburb of Boston.  This was so long ago it was before WWII!

In our high school history classes we (my sister and I) had a wonderful instructor, Edward Rowe Snow. Every student should have an instructor like Mr. Snow. He made you glad to be an American!

He was known as the Flying Santa Claus because each Christmas for years, students collected gifts which he delivered by dropping them from  his small plane at  lighthouses up and down the East Coast.  Now, of course, automation has replaced the lonely life of the Light Tenders.

Mr. Snow was a history teacher at the local high school my sister and I attended in our junior and senior years.  We had transferred there from the midwest.  We were signed up for English History, ancient history and American history.  Mostly what we got was the history of the Revolution in the Boston area which many residents boasted was the “cradle of liberty.”  Histories of those epic-making Revolutionary War days, make you realize how great the people of that era really were and what they endured to get out from under tyranny.

Come Isummer Mr. Snow was known to canoe   groups of teens  to the islands in Boston harbor, particularly, as I recall,  Governor’s Island which has the remains of a fort.

This became of particular interest to Mr. and Mrs. Snow one time when he related the story of one prisoner who escaped,  as I recall, through heating a gun slit, expanding the opening allowing him to slip out the  narrow aperture.

One of Mr. Snow’s more aggressive students, Priscilla,  decided to try this, except she didn’t have anything to heat the stone with, she just tried to get through the gun slit and found it was too small (or her hips were too wide) but neither could she back out!

I wasn’t there that time, but we were in the same class, so I  heard about it and also from her brother, Eugene, who spent his evenings on our front porch.  Once,  with the connivance of our father, Euie pulled a dirty, dirty trick on my sister and me.  I’ll tell you in a moment, but back to Priscilla who was stuck in the window. 

Mrs. Snow sent all the fellows packing so she could remove some of Priscilla’s more intimate garments and oiled her down with salad dressing to get her unstuck from the gun slit! This story was told so often It became an historical anecdote!

Euie, her brother, was working his way thru college in Boston on a  program in which he went to school for 6 weeks and then worked 6 weeks.  So he had a job in a factory where they made gum which looked like Feenamint, but he said,  wasn’t. (Maybe you mikght not know, Feenamint was a laxative.)  My sister and I were at choir practice one night when Euie came to the house.  In our absence he  left some of the gum pellets with our father. When we returned home the open package of gum was conspicuously placed right under the hanging Tiffany lamp over the center of the round oak dining room table.  It was so conspicuous, I was suspicious.  Not so my sister.  Oh, no!  She who rarely chewed gum grabbed a handful.  I took just one.   If  they weren’t Feenamints, they were the next best to it. 

The next day Margie spent her time making numerous very rapid trips to the head, at the top of the stairs on the second floor. It was the only bath in a remodeled sewing room in this 1880’s Victorian frame house. 

On one hurried trip up the stairs, she met our father halfway, paused  with his arms extended from the wall to the balustrade. “What’s your hurry?” he asked her.

“Come on, daddy,”  she squealed, “I’ve got to go!”  She pleaded with him and eventually,  he allowed her to pass. 

That 3-story Victorian frame house  we rented contained furniture I always wondered  how it  managed to get to the second floor bedroom my sister and I shared, it was so large.  Ignorant of antiques, yet I could not help admire a huge black walnut ladies’ dressing table in a corner of the bedroom, containing an exquisite  tall mirror between two marble-topped side arms over a drawer.  (I was so ignorant of antiques I did not like that Tiffany lamp hanging over the dining room table and the first time I saw the Antiques Roadshow, I revised my opinion of Tiffany lamps, and wondered whatever happened to it?)

All that was long before WWII and it wasn’t until 1974 I could return on a business trip from California to the Boston area and again in 1979.    I discovered Mr. Snow was still making trips around the Harbor, but now it was on a large boat for tourists.  Of course, I had to make the trip and hurried off to buy a ticket and board the ship.  ship. I sat next to the railing on the top deck and as Mr. Snow came aboard to narrate from a glass-shielded cabin, he saw me,  and looked rather puzzled, as if he knew he should know me. When he finished greeting his admirers, I went over to him and said, “Class of ‘40.”  Open Sesame! 

To the consternation of the other tourists I was invited to ride with him in the glass enclosure from which he narrated the sights we were seeing.   Eventually we docked at Governor’s Island where I decided to break this up and took refuge in the ladies loo where I waited and waited and waited.  I did not want to climb and walk the trail to the fort, my shoes were not convenient for such a ramble. and  my feet hurt already.

When I thought enough time passed,  I opened the door to find a long line of tourists waiting impatiently  immediately outside the rest room door.  I stood on the threshold,  shocked, with LADIES emblazoned  over my head.  Although Mr. Snow was out of sight,  I  heard him roaring,  “Where is she?  Where is she?”  There was nowhere to flee . Every eye in that long line shifted to the opening door where I stood in shock.  I saw their  puzzled faces wondering who was this mystery woman?  As I stepped down, resigned to my fate, and passed  to the front of the line, I muttered over and over, “Class of 40, Class of 40.” With a collective sigh, the line relaxed!

The only thing important about that anecdote is the expression, “Cradle of liberty.”  I don’t know what has happened to those people, once so proud of their heritage.  Why would they keep voting the late Ted Kennedy back into office with his miserable record? What pray tell, could he know about the average working man’s life?  We thought of him as “Chappaquiddick Dick” and scarcely adequate material for so exalted a position as a U.S. Senator.  Well, what did we know?  I guess by now there are worse who have born that once honorable title.

And now, the area is the “Cradle of License!”  More of the aberrant futuristic ugliness seems to be passing through their State Legislature than most of the other states combined!

The Supreme Court of Massachusetts, it was said, recognized Alger Hiss’s guilt as a Soviet spy, but since he was only found guilty of perjury, they restored his right to practice law, plus he was able to collect a government pension until he died.

Massachusetts was also the first state to get into the third gender controversy as well.  Of course, now the State has the help of the Feds with Obama proclaiming June as “Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender pride month,” according to news reports.  So, even though the Legislature of Massachusetts had to cut government costs all down the line, they still raised funds for “homosexual programs in the public schools.” which apparently has a strong lobby in the State House. even though there is  strong resistance, as well. (MassResistance.com, P.O. Box 1612,  Waltham, MA 02454)

You can’t help but wonder how such a small percentage of people could wield such power at the State and national levels, because traditionally there aren’t over 3% of the populace into that culture.  However, I remember that a member of the Communist Party vowed to change that, and apparently he has.

Harry Hay was an organizer for the CPUSA who appeared before a government committee in July, 1955, where he took the 5th Amendment in response to his Communist Party membership.

This is interesting in view of the appointment by Mr. Obama of a man named Kevin Jennings as “Czar” of safety for children in school.  It seems that Mr. Jennings in a 1997 speech boasted of his relationship with Harry Hay who was his “mentor.” Mr. Jennings doesn’t keep his identity as a member of the 3rd gender a secret either.   Hay had a web site for several years before his death where he did not hide his relationship with the CPUSA, either. 

Hay read the discredited Kinsey report in 1948 which incited him to found in 1950 a secret society he called The Mattachine Society, after Renaissance males who hid their faces behind masks.  Very appropriate title, but since then has been superseded by more radical non-secret societies, which have gained a surprising amount of support among non-gay society.  You can find more information in my book, In the Presence of Our Enemies, and if you haven’t a copy, but want one, let me know for there is much more to tell.

The sad thing is  its  entre’ into the younger classes of Massachusetts’ schools, now no longer the cradle of liberty, but of license.  The assault s on the foundations of this country are immense, but sadly, most Americans are so brainwashed they don’t even recognize this.

Anti-Americanism

Anti-Americanism has been having a field day since the last election—it is, so to speak, and at long last, “out of the closet,”  having operated stealthily for sixty years, yet most Americans are still unaware American schools have been and are an adjunct of the most viciously anti-American organization ever conceived.  Despite its dismal and appalling history, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization is a largely unknown quantity to American parents whose children attend UNESCO controlled schools and study from UNESCO approved textbooks.

When George W. Bush appeared before the U.N. September 10, 2009, and pledged return of U.S. participation in UNESCO, he said the agency had “reformed.”  How he knew that and just what that reformation entailed he did not elaborate, so Americans were forced to take his word for it, but can a leopard really change its spots?

From its very beginnings UNESCO was designed to change the culture of the United States by seizing control of education in order to remodel children’s beliefs in God and country.  What do you think created the so-called “flower children,” turned teen agers against their parents and the way of life exhibited in stable family units.  UNESCO and its spokesmen (and women) made no secret of their end goal – to create a government of the world in which the United States chosen to finance the global group, had no more than 1 vote – equal to the smallest, newly-created, never- existed before province in darkest Africa with no history of self-government.

UNESCO literature was rampant with talk of this new world government but when challenged,  its spokesperson, whoever,  would immediately deny that truth.  Journalist and commentator of long standing, John T. Flynn, wrote “If there is anything UNESCO dislikes, it is patriotism.  It wants to replace it with what it calls ‘world mindedness.’ In order to bring this about, it must wipe out of the minds of our youngsters respect and admiration and love for American traditions and the American way of life and instill in their place respect and admiration and love for all the countries of the world.  Logically, this could only be respect and admiration and love for the socialist and fascist and communist way of life which is prevalent in those countries.” 

So our American history textbooks had to be rewritten. That’s  when the American Revolution disappeared from texts, and along with it,  any stories of the heroes and valiant and sturdy men who emerged from the struggle to create a new form of government.  UNESCO’s Prof. Lauwery decreed children should not learn anything about George Washington because they might want to emulate him!  Lauwery said so, and then suddenly Washington’s birthday disappeared from our calendars with hardly a ripple. Just as the crosses later disappeared from our national cemeteries.  If you see a picture of a sea of crosses, the picture did not originate in the U.S., but overseas.  Here we either have white headstones or plates on the ground. 

It was Truman who endorsed UNESCO and signed the founding documents and declared “The role which education will play officially must be conditioned essentially by policies established by the State Department in this country…The United States Office of Education must be prepared to work effectively with the State Department and with UNESCO.” He knew since at least 1939 about Hiss and White planted in the Government in State and in Treasury as Soviet agents, even though he denied it until confronted by Herbert Brownell, Attorney General.  Hiss and White were prime in putting the UN, IMF, World Bank, UNESCO together, along with a then unidentified cadre of Soviet agents, not to mention an equal number of members of the almost equally secret CFR. 

In 1952 one UNESCO protestor, Mrs. Stephanie Williams, held  pictures of the UN flag and the Soviet Arms Flag up to view.   She thought it strange they were so much alike.  She did not know the UN flag was designed by an American who had been in the OSS and was transferred with almost 10,000 others from that organization into the State Department at war’s end.  This one happened to be another secret Soviet agent even as he designed the UN flag—and in many instances since those far away days, it has been flown alongside and even above our Old Glory, and if they have their way, will eventually replace the Stars and Stripes.  Why do you think the Department of Education had been strengthened with every White House incumbent since.  Although Mr. Reagan promised to get rid of it, he couldn’t then nor can it be now. 

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