Guest Blog: Third Force Act Day

It was April 20th when my journey started…a day that is rightfully infamous to many Americans, while, regrettably many Americans have no idea of the significance of April 20th in our shared history. You see, in addition to being Hitler’s birthday, on April 20th, 1871, Congress passed the Third Force Act, popularly known as the Ku Klux Klan Act, which authorized President Ulysses S. Grant to declare martial law and use military force to suppress the Ku Klux Klan (KKK).

It is this glorious piece of legislation that we celebrate every April 20th. People around the country, often times not even knowing what it is that’s compelling them to celebrate, nonetheless fully indulge in commemoration.

This past Third Force Act Day I found myself in Lowell, Massachusetts (the birthplace of Jack Kerouac. Lowell is often cited as the birth place of the industrial revolution, the catalyst to industrialization. It was an old mill town that boomed back in the olden day. If Detroit is forgotten, Lowell is ancient. There are many a vacate buildings...as is the case in most Rust Belt cities. However, Lowell had a unique feel about it that gave it the appearance of having been chewed up and spit out, except for a few select pieces of land that had been salvaged for whatever capitalistic value they might have left…it was a unique place.

Work was the only reasonable explanation I can have for being in Lowell on such a day as Third Force Act Day. But there was an upshot. I was catching the MBTA rail system from Lowell to Boston. In Boston I was catching an Amtrak train to D.C. I would arrive on April 21st at approximately 7 AM in DC.

I was ready to began my odyssey, or pilgrimage if you will, to go to the place where the Third Force Act (a.k.a. the Ku Klux Klan Act) had been passed by a brave new Congress.

But first, after I was done working, I had to take in the sights of Lowell. I love industrial wastelands. I grew up in the Rust Belt and have always been intrigued by the ever-present shopping carts in creeks, the broken glass and the edge that comes with the leftover remnants of a capitalist boom.

I found a decent place to walk, where I’d be away from people and could park the ride, and took a walk. I walked through a parking lot, between a fence and over a bridge across a creek.

There was another factory on the other side of the creek. I stopped on the foot bridge and took in the sights of the running water. There was an abandoned ATV four-wheeler lodged in the side of the embankment on the left, a shopping cart on the right and what appeared to be an oily substance throughout the creek.

But I chilled.

Then I saw a car – it was two girls in a ride. I thought perhaps they were out celebrating Third Force Act Day too…They were chillin…I figured after awhile I ought to hit the road…so that’s what I did.

As I began walking back across the bridge, a man started walking from the factory on the other side of the creek towards the bridge…guess he was coming to enjoy the sites of abandoned ATV’s and shopping carts.

I found my car and made my way to the parking garage, where the parking attendant had a dent in the middle of his upper lip. (It reminded me of that girl’s lip in Kill Bill II when Uma goes to Mexico to talk to Esteban) It gave him a lisp of sorts, sorta felt bad for the guy until he tried to rip me off. He did some faulty math and charged me about $14 more than it costs to keep my car there for three days.

Whatever, got my money back went to the car to chill…train wasn’t coming until 6:35 PM. It was about 6…I enjoyed some music, celebrating Congressional action against the KKK.

Got to Boston about 7:30. Took a cab to the bar where I was meeting a friend, took out my bags and scurried into the bar. I was thirsty.

Drank some beer, ate a few appetizers and hit the road. I was near appropriately lit before the train ride. Luckily they sell Heineken on Amtrak, I could finish the job.

It was a 10-hour train ride…or maybe 9…whatever the case I was on that train for a damn long time, and didn’t sleep for more than 3 hours at a time, so from my perspective it wasn’t technically a new day when I finally arrived at the Shaw St./ Howard Univ. Metro stop. I had done a little sleeping, but was mostly just in that semi-delusional, half drunk, half asleep state that we sometimes find ourselves in.

I was greeted at the Metro stop at about 7:30 AM by Vogel, who was still rocking his threads from the night before. He’d had a rough night of boozing, but he made it…so at least I wasn’t stranded in Ledroit Park at 7:30 AM.

I entered 1906...it was like a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. I had left my bed in New Hampshire the morning before at 7 AM, and had been going, on the road from city to city, state to state, for 24 hours. Caught maybe 5 hours of sleep along the way.

So I was beat, caught about another 2 hours at 1906…so I guess by the time I woke up at noon I’d had about 7 hours…but I was not ready for the madness to ensue.

Hamilton had a rugby game. Vogel and I were going.

I’d never been to a rugby match before. I had no idea what I was in for.

Granted I brought some of it on myself, no one forced me to accept the outstretched icy cold Bud Light, that had water dripping off it…it was hot, about 90 degrees. Hot. I accepted the beer and I drank.

Not just one, but no more than 12. Somewhere in between.

Rugby is a fascinating sport. Sort of like football without the pads, a more physical soccer. And you can sit on the sidelines and drink beer. And I was definitely not the only one.

After the rugby match, it seems to be a custom to go to the bar, where a strange game is played…a game involving a golf ball and pitchers of beer. I don’t think I ever figured the game out, except that it involved being required to drink pitchers of beer if you happen to hold the pitcher with the golf ball…or something…

I was about half in the bag before entering the bar, so I think that I was easily susceptible to trickery involved in such silly games. But I drank, like a champ. Smashed about two pitchers of beer…something like that. It was a lot.

I was pretty well wrecked by the time I left the bar…it was maybe 4 PM.

But the night was not over, sleep would not be had as of yet. Keep in mind that because I hadn’t slept for more than 3 hours at a time, I considered this to still be the day before – therefore I could justify such excessive drinking due to the fact that I was still celebrating Third Force Act Day.

There was a party to go to.

After food, shower and other attempts to sober up we prepared for departure to the party.

We made it to the party…and drank more. Don’t remember preciously what I drank. There was tequila involved, perhaps in a margarita…then also maybe some shots. I’m a little unclear about this. I do remember sitting down on the couch, there was tiered seating in front of me, it was a crazy living room. I thought to rest my eyes.

I’m not exactly sure how many hours later it was that I woke up, but I woke up. I just opened my eyes, there were two guys sitting there, and I stood up, stumbled, in a dazed fashion towards the kitchen and found a beer. Walked outside and there was Vogel. He looked at me like I’d risen from the dead, which I guess in some ways I had.

I’d say that falling asleep on the couch at the party marked the end of my April 20th celebration…and although I’d traveled through nine states, I made it to Washington DC, to my safe haven at 1906, to properly commemorate the passage of the Ku Klux Klan Act.