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force. In the early hours of the first of February, John, oblivious to the spreading fury or perhaps ignorant of it, was walking through narrow streets’ of a workingman district. He stumbled over a shapeless obstacle, fell, and found himself lying next to .a murdered man. The tattered clothes on the corpse were red with the blood that had flowed from a half dozen deep cuts. Above them a shrunken face was frozen in a mean expression of fear and drunken rage. The stench of vomit and sour whiskey was sickening, and John jumped to his feet. He spent the next five hours near the dead man, measuring fingerprints and footmarks, and scraping into small paper containers little heaps of dust, ashes, and dirt. He then went home and worked and thought late into the night. Three of the foot-tracks and four of the fingerprints he discovered to be his own ; two of the samples of dust he found to be ashes from the tobacco he used; the remaining pieces of evidence he was unable to identify. ON THE SECOND OF FEBRU-ARY, the tyrants’ armies continued to roll north; first they drove through smouldering ruins an ddevastated countryside, then as dusk approached the scene gradually shifted to peaceful fields and prosperous farmhouses. There was no opposition anywhere. On the same day, in Colonia, John Holmes returned to the scene of the crime. He found the body lying in the gutter where some inattentive passer-by had kicked it the night before. Near the body stood a woman, haggard and bent, and sobbing quietly. John questioned her gently and she told him her story. The dead man was her husband and the father of their two small children. For months the family had been destitute and starving. Her husband would not work and had squandered her meager scullion’s wages on cheap drink and cheap women. At irregular intervals he had come home to beat wife and children in drunken fury or sober viciousness. Two days ago, returning home from a hard day’s labor, she had found him with a stick striking heavy blows on their little girl who was lying senseless at his feet. She had tried to drag him away, but a savage kick had hurled her into a corner. There she had found a pair of scissors. Seizing the weapon she had stabbed her man seven times. He had cried out and dragged himself to the street, where he had collapsed and bled to death. Now she was weeping for the sake of some old and mouldy memories and was overwhelmed by a sense of sin and horror. John was saddened by the woman’s tale. He felt deep pity and dread. He hoped that God, in His infinite wisdom and love, would weigh lightly her impetuous deed. But John knew that, unlike divine law, human justice could not be reconciled with human compassion. If such an act went unrequited, others would proceed to kill for profit or lust. Neither faith nor property would be safe. Supporting her frail form on his arm, John with heavy heart led the woman to a nearby police station. Confronted by an inspector, the woman denied everything. Two policemen took her into a cellar room, and there, after some mild torture, she repeated her confession. A few hours later she was sentenced and hanged. ON THE THIRD OF FEBRU-ARY, the whole of the northland was occupied. Throughout the country, the tyrants’ minions busied themselves organizing a large police force, selected in the main from the local population. The new recruits were required to promise to uphold law and order and to take a solemn oath of allegiance and unquestioning obedience to the tyrants. In Colonia, standing straight and proud in gleaming uniform, flanked by new friends and colleagues, in a steady voice, clear and strong, John Holmes gave his promise and swore his oath. The Business ‘PIPE’ Flows Again A fund for the clandestine funneling of city-dwelling conservatives’ money into rural legislative campaigns of conservative candidates in Texas has again come to the Observer’s attention despite elaborate safeguards designed to keep it a secret. Persons on the mailing list of a certain Texas manufacturers’ association have received a four-page unsigned memorandum about the “Public Interest Political Educationed in 1960 rural legislative campaigns to the advantage of conservatives and the detriment of liberals [“A Business P.I.P.E.,” Obs. March 18 ’60]. The current memorandum proposes raising and giving to country conservative candidates $65,000 in each of the years 1964, 1966, and 1968, a total of $195,000. “In this operation,” the memorandum says, “care will be taken to avoid , the necessity for any contributor to PIPE to be responsible for reporting his contribution as required by state law. His contribution, if $100 or more \(the required redistributed among several candidates, and the contributor will be given credit for the contribution.” The italics are in the original. In the top right-and left-hand corners of the memo’s first page, the word “confidential” appears in capital letters. The subject of the memo is given as: “Non-partisan plan to aid in financing conservative legislative campaigns in selected rural districts.” Apparently in the hope that the memo would not be seen by persons who might call it to the public’s attention, the memo enjoins the recipient: “After reading, please return to PIPE, P.O. Box 13198, Houston 19, Texas.” The Observer summarizes the contents of the memo, in each case following the memo’s emphases: “The funds are being sought primarily from major metropolitan areas . . .” and will be used in “non-metropolitan areas organized are not nearly so conscious of the bitter philosophical issues that prevail a substantial degree, already organized.” The board of advisors, “some fifty business and professional leaders in the state,” arrived at the $65,000-a-biennium estimate of the funds needed. But PIPE has no staff. “There is no organization or paid personnel.” “Corporations cannot contribute to political campaigns, so PIPE cannot accept contributions from corporations.” The money will be given not by PIPE, but rather through political organizations. “In some legislative districts, people interested in the economic growth and development of private enterprise in the state are organized to elect their legislators. . . . PIPE will endeavor to distribute these funds through these organizations. . . . Except under extenuating circumstances, no funds will be given direct to candidates. “Detailed records of the contributions made to the fund will be kept, for a limited time, but . not published. They will, however, be subject to inspection by the trustees, the board of advisors, and by any contributor.. . “PIPE has no assets, it has no funds, it is not the contributor. It serves only as the transmitter of the contributor’s funds. . . . Each assignment of funds to a campaign will have attached to it a list of names of persons who have contributed through PIPE to the campaign. The list will be as long as necessary to assure that each individual contribution to any one campaign will never be more than $50 or $60, so as to avoid the necessity of the contributor making a report.” Contributors can telephone or write to solicit other contributions. “You can write letters, or have them written in your name, to a list of your associates and friends asking their support of PIPE. This letter would be more effective if written on personal letterhead.” The attempt of the PIPE fund’s managers to keep its existence and scope secret springs from the fact that, especially in rural campaigns, voters can be sensitive about attempts to influence their elections from outside their districts. Before and during the 1960 campaigns, some candidates for the legislature made use of the Observer’s report on the existence of the PIPE fund, to good effect, they thought. August 23.’1963 1 1