My
son and I had the privilege of visiting Stone Mountain Park last year, as part
of my research for my book, Karma Nation.
Upon arrival at the park’s headquarters, we were warmly greeted by the head of the
park’s publicity department, a very helpful young lady, who offered us free
tickets for the day.
Stone
Mountain Park is located in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia. Its’ attractions draw
visitors from around the world: a collection of antebellum homes, imported from
various places in Georgia and beautifully restored, trails through the woods, a
barnyard containing a petting zoo, boat-rides on the lake and a concert hall. The
place was charming—the landscape was picturesque and a feeling of serenity pervaded
the place.
Despite
these, it has always been famous for one thing: the enormous bas-relief carving
of three Confederate leaders of the sheer rock face of Stone Mountain. The
sculpture that defines the park. Covering an area of 6,400 square meters, the
portrait of Jefferson Davis. Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, riding their
horses, towers over the landscape.
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| Karma Nation |
I
was interested in the park’s history; especially its connection to the Ku Klux
Klan. The Klan’s first iteration, meant to roll back the newly-gained benefits
to Black Americans, came into existence right after the Civil War. It unleashed
a campaign of terror against freedmen and white Republicans. Within a few
years, the Union government introduced laws to prosecute and suppress Klan
activity. However, the main reasons for its failure were its unorganized nature
and lack of political support, even among Democrat politicians.
In
1915, a group of fifteen men, led by William Simmons, met at the base of Stone
Mountain and reconstituted the KKK. They then climbed to the top of the
mountain where they burned a cross. This time, the Klan was much more successful
in spreading its’ message. Simmons provided an organizational structure and,
with large enrolments, came political support. At its peak in the mid-1920’s
the Klan’s membership numbered about 4-5 million men, roughly 15% of the
American population. This second iteration finally passed away in the 1940’s,
weakened by internal division, criminal activities by its’ leaders and external
political opposition.
Thus,
it is understandable that in the minds of many, including African Americans,
Stone Mountain Park would remain identified by this divisive history. In fact,
my purpose in visiting was to gauge people’s sentiments. Certainly, the park
lovingly preserved the bones of a lost society. Opposition to the grand
sculpture of Confederate leaders was noticeable: what was the need to continue
glorification of the men who waged war against the Union and whose society
supported the institution of slavery?
But
the day of our visit held no such discord. Families, many of them
African-American, gathered at the park for no other reason but to enjoy the
day. Children played in the water park, picnicked on the spacious lawns or rode
the cable cars to the mountain top. Music sounded in the air and boats plied
the lake. The great sculpture, though controversial, had become part of the landscape,
a relic of the past, to be gawked at and sometimes discussed, but not to be
fought over. Visitors—whites, blacks and
even foreigners, crowed the place. Time had moved on, and we followed the
others’ example: we enjoyed our day.
