By Terrence McCoy
By Scott Fishman
By Deirdra Funcheon
By Allie Conti
By New Times Staff
By Ryan Pfeffer
By Deirdra Funcheon
By Kyle Swenson
He glances at the multiethnic crowd enjoying the park on this dreary weekday afternoon. Not that he's scared or anything, but he knows that, like his eponymous predecessors, he's behind enemy lines. As far as he and his brethren are concerned, the Racial Holy War (RAHOWA for short) has already begun, and the bad guys -- the Jews, blacks, browns, yellows, and other immigrants -- are winning.
And then I tell him that I am Jewish.
Both Doug and Quinn raise their heads and look at each other. I figured that they could easily have found out on their own with a little research, so I decided to be up-front about my religious background. Sean seems uncomfortable about my disposition, offering an exasperated sigh. Doug is a little more lighthearted about my enemy status: "We were joking about that on the way down here," he says, chuckling, "because you're a member of the Kabbalist media."
This paper's allegiance to Adonai aside, I have my own reasons for embarking on this journey into South Florida's white-supremacist culture. For one thing, it's news: While organized white-power groups have been around ever since Reconstruction, the Werwulfe movement is a new twist. Also, white-power vandalism has been stepped up several notches from years past: Some New Times newspaper boxes in West Palm Beach were stuffed with white-supremacist propaganda. (Doug, Quinn, and the South Florida Aryan Alliance deny responsibility.) And lots of people have reported waking up to find several WCOTC leaflets on their front lawns along with the morning newspaper. But all that is on the surface. For some reason I cannot name, I have a morbid fascination with these guys, a deepening desire to come face to face with people whose perfect world has no place for someone like me.
Though they're not thrilled about talking to a Jewish reporter, Doug and Quinn seem to know New Times well enough to trust that we'll at least get their quotes right, even if what they say is shocking.
Like this, for example: "I can't say [Timothy] McVeigh was wrong," Doug says, eyes impassive, head lowered, "but he could have picked a better target." Doug's other role models, those he calls "knights" in the RAHOWA, include Bob Matthew and Buford O'Neal Furrow.
Matthew was the founding father of The Order, a group that rampaged across the American West in 1983 and 1984. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, the group had about 25 members who stole more than $4 million in various armored car heists and, most notoriously, shot and killed Denver radio DJ Alan Berg in his driveway. Matthew died in a shootout with the FBI in 1984, and his gang was disbanded, most of them going to prison.
Furrow is the man who walked into a Jewish daycare center in Los Angeles in 1999 and opened fire on the children. Tellingly, he had married Matthew's widow at Richard Butler's now-defunct Aryan Nation compound in Hayden Lake, Idaho.
"[Matthew's and Furrow's crimes] show that a lot of white people are waking up and saying, "I've had enough,'" Doug says in his deep, raspy voice. "They did their part to further the Racial Holy War. I don't agree with Furrow shooting at innocent children, because they don't know any better, but this shows that people are ready to strike."
He says that skirmishes like these are inevitably going to manifest in a full-blown battle on city streets. The only thing lacking is a leader to bring it all together. "And we thought we had that in George Lincoln Rockwell."
The Bloomington, Indiana-born founder and spokesman of the American Nazi Party, Rockwell was a rising star in the ultrarightist political scene of the late 1960s. Although Rockwell is long gone, his legacy remains, in the form of Holocaust revisionism. Doug reiterates Rockwell's thesis: While the Jews were persecuted in Nazi Germany, the six million figure is a gross exaggeration -- and the gas chambers were a myth, as were the mass graves.
"Lots of people start screaming and hollering when you tell them the Holocaust never happened," Doug says. "They just go ballistic. When they can't answer a question, they resort to hysterics and they call me a racist. I don't consider myself a racist. A racialist, but not a racist."
What does that mean? He says he goes to bed each night and asks himself, "What did I do for my race today?" Doug speaks about how he lost his wife of 12 years because of his beliefs. He fights, as do the rest of his allies, for the 14 Words: We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children. Those 14 words are something I hear over and over again for the next couple of months. Doug ends every conversation and e-mail with another number: 88.
The eighth letter of the alphabet is H. Eight two times signifies HH, shorthand for the Nazi greeting, "Heil Hitler."
"One time I was at a grocery store, and I saw a guy who had some swastika tattoos on his legs and arms," Doug recalls. "That's pretty courageous, to wear them out in public like that. As I was leaving, I said to him, "88,' and he shot me a smile and replied, "14/88.'"