On a drizzly autumn day in 1925, more than 2,000 members of the Ku Klux Klan marched through downtown Cincinnati. The procession celebrated the fifth anniversary of the Klan in Cincinnati.

Robed and hooded, but with faces unmasked, the parade was led by Cincinnati’s police chief, William Copelan, accompanied by a police escort made up of Copelan’s senior staff. Approximately half of the marchers represented Hamilton County Klans, notably the Price Hill contingent who were first in line among the local organizations. Major national officers were also present, among them, Ohio Grand Dragon Clyde W, Osborne of Youngstown and Theodore Heck Jr., leader of the Hamilton County Klan. Hiram Wesley Evans of Texas, the national Grand Wizard of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan had planned to attend, but bailed at the last minute.

Grand Dragon Osborne told the Cincinnati Post [24 October 1925], exactly what the Ku Klux Klan was all about:

“We do not seek to deprive the Jew or Catholic of the right to hold office. However, we do seek to advance and protect Protestant interests by securing proportional share of public representation. We believe in the supremacy of the white man and woman in America. We are opposed to racial equality and are ever ready to promote the best interest of negroes. However, we will not tolerate the intermarrying or interbreeding of whites with the black or yellow races. We feel that today the supremacy of the white man in America is menaced seriously.”

Although Price Hill led the local Klan in this particular parade, Cincinnati had Klans in many neighborhoods, including Northside, Linwood, Walnut Hills, St. Bernard, Lockland and Norwood. The Klan openly advertised “Klonklaves” or initiation gatherings at the Hamilton County Fairgrounds in Carthage. Major Klan events, including the raising of fiery crosses, took place at a big field near North Bend and Winton roads in Finneytown. A 1921 initiation ceremony on Wooster Pike near Terrace Park brought out 1500 men. The Klan even held an initiation of 460 new members in 1922 at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Although the 1925 Klan parade openly advertised the participation of the police chief, no other elected officials participated. No local politicians openly supported or promoted the Klan, although it was rumored that some lent private support. A few authorities publicly opposed the Klan, notably Mayor Louis Nolte of Norwood, whose position did not interfere with his winning two more terms. Nolte announced that the Klan was prohibited from meeting in his city, mostly because they had publicly announced they were going to fill the ranks of the police and fire departments with Klansmen. Nolte told the Cincinnati Post [2 December 1922]:

“I am opposed to discriminating against any man on account of race or religion. I am a Mason, I belong to the Presbyterian Church, but because a man does not think as I do is no reason for barring him from working for me.”

Another vocal opponent of the Klan was Gilbert Bettman Sr., who later became a justice of the Ohio Supreme Court. As state commander of the American Legion, Bettman announced that Klan membership violated the ideals of the American Legion. He told the Cincinnati Post:

“I would give the men a choice between the Legion and the Klan after explaining that membership in the Klan was not in keeping with Legion principles. If the men choose the Klan then they should be asked to withdraw from the Legion.”

The Klan appear to have been most active in the Cincinnati area around 1922, appearing in daylight at a funeral in Reading and getting newspaper coverage for delivering toys and candy to charitable organizations at Christmas.

Perhaps the weirdest manifestation of Klan activity in Cincinnati was a clothing store at the northeast corner of Fourth and Main streets in the heart of downtown Cincinnati. For months prior to the store’s opening, Cincinnati’s newspapers were filled with cryptic advertisements hinting that headquarters for the Ku Klux Klan would occupy the building. Here is a sample from the Cincinnati Enquirer [1 July 1920]:

“Ku Klux Klan, Looking Hither And Moving Onward: A fine part of civilization teaches us to love our neighbor as ourself; yet modern society acknowledges no neighbor. Of the essentials and necessities of life, we are mostly ruined not by what we really want, but by what we think we do. Therefore, never go abroad in search of your wants; if they be real wants they will come home in search of you, for he that buys what he does not want will soon want what he cannot buy. Ku Klux Klan throws out a forbearing friendship that saves you a search. It gives you inward strength for your outward view, and offers the most inexpensive fortification in modern society, to wit: Initiation day is not far off now, as you will notice if you are watching headquarters (a whole building).”

And yet, when that building opened, it did not hold the headquarters of the local Ku Klux Klan (most reports have Central Klan headquarters at the corner of Allison and Vine) but a haberdashery named Ku Klux Klothes, with the catchy slogan, “One Price – One Profit.” That price indicated that the local Ku Klux Klan catered to a somewhat upscale crowd, because the “one price” was $33 for a man’s suit. In 2018 dollars, that’s equivalent to $450, hardly Armani, but hardly Big Lots, either.

Ku Klux Klothes operated out of the Main Street location for just a bit over a year when it was bought out by the R.B. Clothing Company, which kept its anchor store at the northwest corner of Fifth and Elm and used the former Ku Klux Klothes building as a discount annex.

After the Klan parade through downtown, “several thousand” assembled at the Carthage Fair Grounds for speeches, fireworks, and the initiation of new members. Grand Dragon Osborne proclaimed the evils of motion pictures produced, he said, by a small group of Jews. The Klan in Ohio was actively engaged in fighting the Catholic influence on the public schools.

Not everyone welcomed the Klan to the Queen City. As the Carthage Klonklave disbanded, Klansmen returned downtown to catch trains out of town. There, a crowd of onlookers bombarded them with, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer [25 October 1925]:

“A fusillade of debris, including eggs of a distinct vintage, tomatoes that had seen better days, potatoes that were still solid, interspersed with larger missiles that resembled cantaloupes … “

There were no injuries and four young men were arrested on disorderly conduct charges.