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May 17, 2018 - Radio Free Nortwest - H.A. Covington
01:05:35
20180517_rfn
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Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Push your vocal, push and listen, and his cheeks were all aglow.
I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon, for the bikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, for the bikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, where the gathering is to be?
In the old spot by the river, rifle known to you and me.
One more roar for signal, token whistle of the marching tune For your bike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
Switch your bike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
Out from many a mud wall cabin eyes were watching through the night.
Many a man's chest was throbbing for the blessed warming light.
Warpers passed along the valleys like the man she's lonely crew.
And a thousand blades were flashing at the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon.
And a thousand blades were flashing at the rising of the moon.
Greetings from the Northwest Homeland, comrades.
It's May the 17th, 2018.
I'm Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
Some of you have in the past questioned various aspects of the Northwest Constitution's 2006 draft, which you'll find in the White Book and on our website.
Some of you seem to have difficulty understanding my explanations.
Well, you being 21st century white boys and girls, if you can't understand me, maybe you can understand a Hollywood movie.
This is from Starship Troopers.
Rico!
Pay attention.
Sorry, Mr. Ratchett.
Let's sum up.
This year we explored the failure of democracy.
How the social scientists brought our world to the brink of chaos.
We talked about the veterans.
How they took control.
And imposed the stability that has lasted for generations since.
You know these facts.
But have I taught you anything of value this year?
Hmm?
You.
Why are only citizens allowed to vote?
It's a reward.
What the Federation gives you for doing federal service.
No.
No.
Something given has no value.
Look, when you vote, you are exercising political authority.
You're using force.
And force, my friends, is violence.
The supreme authority from which all other authority is derived.
Uh...
My mother always said violence never solves anything.
Really?
I wonder what the city fathers of Hiroshima would say about that.
You.
They probably wouldn't say anything.
Hiroshima was destroyed.
Correct.
Naked force has resolved more issues throughout history than any other factor.
The contrary opinion, that violence never solves anything, is wishful thinking at its worst.
People who forget that always pay.
Rico, what's the moral difference, if any, between a civilian and a citizen?
A citizen accepts personal responsibility for the safety of the body politic, defending it with his life.
A civilian does not.
The exact words of the text.
But do you understand it?
Do you believe it?
I don't know.
Of course you don't.
I doubt anyone here would recognize civic virtue if it reached up and bit you in the ass.
First, we got an email from Jesse in Boise, Idaho.
Dear HAC, I have a few questions, which, after reading your Northwest novels, The White Book, and listening to a number of podcasts, I haven't found much in the way of straightforward answers.
Well, I'll get into this, but actually there's a reason why I can't be too straightforward on some of these things you're asking about.
Anyway, getting back to your email, you may have hinted at them, and maybe you cannot say more, but maybe you can.
The first is of primary importance, I believe.
When this movement of ours gets to a fighting stage and family men or even single men are forced underground, how will they acquire the needed capital to fund their existence, and on top of that, the even larger amount of capital needed to sustain a long-term resistance?
The next question kind of ties in with the first.
I recall reading about providing receipts of which the future NAR would pay, and that is the only way to, I suppose I could say, use something.
I understand the need for this because volunteers shouldn't be seen as marauders.
This seems kind of straightforward, but the future NAR wouldn't be honoring receipts to any Jews or race traitors or other hostile elements, right?
My last question is about Aglevi's flying column.
I think I phrased that right.
Would they likely start as trouble trios?
I know all this is hypothetical, but it would be nice to hear answers to these questions.
Thanks, Jesse from Boise.
Okay.
This is a common reaction to people who first read the novels.
They kind of get wrapped up in the plot and the characters.
And to some degree, they either miss altogether or they just lose track of the basic theme of the work.
It's kind of like not being able to see the forest for the trees, and that's okay.
A lot of people read fiction like that.
A lot of people watch TV like that.
A lot of writers and filmmakers and whatnot are a lot more subtle in the meaningful points they try to make than I am.
But the novels aren't really about the characters or the plot.
The novels are about ideas.
I have said this before and I'm going to say it again now.
The purpose of the Northwest novels is not to tell young white people what they should do.
The purpose of the Northwest novels is to show them who they should be.
That having been said, I know a lot of people basically just enjoy the explosions and the murders and whatnot.
Hey, that's as old as Shakespeare.
It's kind of like being a fan of a TV show or a movie.
I have some people that are really, you know, down with the Northwest novels.
It's...
Maybe this is a bad example.
It's almost like Trekkies or fanboys of various kinds, and I'm not suggesting that Jesse is a fanboy or anything like that.
I know these questions in his minds are legitimate, but yeah, this dances around certain things that I can only express in fiction.
For instance, the question about where are revolutionary guerrillas going to get money from?
Well, historically, they get money largely the same way they get weapons and ammunition and other supplies.
They take it from the enemy.
The communists call it revolutionary expropriation, but I can't sit here and talk about how, hey, let's all get together and we're going to rob banks one day and...
Do this, do that, and the other.
If you're familiar with the history of our movement, in the 1980s the Order staged one big armored car robbery, and from that they financed a number of legal movements, including, unfortunately, the drunken Glenn Miller, but also including the National Alliance of Dr. William L. Pierce.
Basically, one day Bob Matthews walked into Pierce's office and dumped $300,000 on his desk, and that's where the National Alliance compound came from.
Of course, how that compound stayed in Pierce's hands after the whole thing went south is kind of another story, but it's one of the many that we don't talk about, and I'm babbling again.
Sorry.
As you can tell, I'm ad-libbing this.
Now, I can't really sit here and talk about things that are technically crimes because you have to bear in mind people are listening to this who do not have the best interests of the white race at heart and I kind of have to live with this possibility that any day my door could be kicked in and these people could drag me away like they did Edgar Steele at the age of 65. On something that is totally made up,
or in my case, more likely something that I said that some United States attorney has decided to construe as something criminal.
So I can't get into a lot of detail verbally on some of these things, but all of the detail I ever needed to get into, I got into in my novels.
Jesse, have you read A Distant Thunder yet?
There's a little more on this subject in that particular novel.
Okay, the next question ties in with the first blah blah.
Providing receipts.
Okay.
This is just good military strategy.
You're right.
The NVA must not be seen as marauders.
And this is going to be hard when the time comes, and I believe some kind of time resembling what I describe in my novels is going to occur at some point in the future when white men do start to resist.
And when that happens, the white population must not view the white resistance fighters as criminals or as marauders, as you call them, or bandits.
They mustn't be afraid of them.
Now, I understand why the Order had to have finance for their series of safe houses and to finance legal movements, etc., etc., but I always thought it was a little bit of a tactical mistake of theirs to kind of start out with a major robbery because that kind of pigeonholes them in people's minds as robbers, as bandits.
There was at one stage something called the Aryan Revolutionary Army.
This was back in the early 90s.
I was never quite clear as to whether they were genuine at all or whether it was just a bunch of bank robbers who were knocking over banks and claiming they were doing so for the White Resistance.
I can't remember what happened to them.
I think they claimed they caught a couple of them, but a couple more they didn't.
And that whole episode in our history has just quietly disappeared, so I still don't know what went on there.
But again, they started out simply by robbing banks.
If you're going to start out with a criminal act, people are going to think of you as criminals.
A resistance movement needs to start out with a spectacular, headline-grabbing, attention-getting act of actual resistance against the tyrants.
Not by knocking over a liquor store.
Glenn Miller had some people in his little white patriot party back in the 80s.
And they decided they were going to go underground and they were going to follow the Turner Diaries and blah, blah, blah.
And the first thing they did was conspire to rob a pizza hut.
And, of course, they had a federal informant in there with them.
And so, one of the many, many, many, many things that we've done in the past that not only sent men to prison, but it made us look like fucking fools.
Conspiring to rob a pizza hut?
Come on.
When a revolutionary force needs something, a car or food or tools or anything of value, they need to take it in order to further the cause, but they need, if possible, to issue a receipt or some acknowledgement to the person who owns it.
Say, hey, we took your property, bring this chitty in after the revolution and we will give you at least some kind of compensation.
It's not so much that we're going to pay them back the exact value of the car or the truck or whatever it is we took.
It's an acknowledgement that it was your property.
We unfortunately had to commandeer it.
But since we are not bandits and criminals and gangsters, we're not just going to rob you.
We are going to pay you something, hopefully some approximation of the actual value of the items we took.
That's one of the differences between gangsters and government.
Government at least maintains the pretense of being the good guys.
Okay.
Now, Yossi Oglevy, I have...
Had a lot of trouble with that one character in my novel, which is odd because he's barely present.
There are some passing references to him in most of the novels, but he is never introduced as a character.
You never see him.
You never hear him speak.
There is no section of the book devoted to his North Idaho partisan rangers, as I believe I call them.
I think I refer to them as bikers and whatnot.
But for some reason, that character has gripped a lot of the basement dwellers'fantasies for a long time, basically because it's the ultimate violent white revenge fantasy.
I think a lot of these kids that are living in mom's basement right now and delivering pizzas...
A lot of their revenge fantasies center on being big bad bikers, you know, riding the highways on a big hog with an M14 over their shoulder and blowing away all the people in life that they dislike.
And the Oglevy thing kind of fills that fantasy.
And I do mention in the books that he and his boys in North Idaho did get a little bit wild at heart and weird on top of various things and committing all kinds of atrocities, etc.
He was there in the novels for the purpose of being a kind of quantral type, and it was a nod in the general direction of the historical fact that any time there is an insurrection of that kind, you get varying qualities and varying types of revolutionaries and insurrectionists and insurgents.
Some of them are just decent men who are trying to change the world and get a decent future for themselves and their families and children.
Matter of fact, most of them probably are.
But you do always attract a certain element of, frankly, psycho-violent criminal types who are using the cause as a flag under which they can commit their assorted depredations.
And that's going to happen with us, just like it happens with every cause.
And to a certain extent...
The revolutionary leadership is going to have to put up with this in exchange for the use that these people will serve because any government, any revolutionary political force has to have a blunt instrument at its command if necessary.
This is just a reality of politics, of statecraft.
I never got into any character development with O.C. Oglevy.
Seems to me there was a brief reference in Freedom's Sons about Oglevy's people getting back together in time for the Seven Weeks War.
That would have been in the second part of Freedom's Sons.
I can't now remember whether I even included it in the book.
There was a reference in there somewhere, or I had intended to have a reference in there somewhere, about Oglevy getting killed mysteriously at the end of the War of Independence.
I can't even remember if I put anything like that in there in the books, because he just wasn't that important a character in my mind.
And yet he seems to have become almost an obsession with some of you guys out there, largely because you fantasize riding up and down the roads on a Harley and blowing people away carefree and happy and feeling revenged and fulfilled.
And by the way, there's nothing wrong with that.
There is nothing wrong with fantasizing about revenge.
There is nothing wrong with envisioning a world in which you are allowed to have justice.
And fulfillment, and your honor, and your self-esteem, and your integrity is upheld.
There's nothing wrong with imagining these things, but as we are going to find out when the real thing comes, and it will come.
As we're going to find out, in real life, it's not so much fun.
We can idealize men like Jesse James and Cole Younger and William Quantrill and Bloody Bill Anderson.
And earlier in history, we can romanticize people like David Fanning and Simon Gertie and Francis Mary and the Swamp Fox and so forth.
But let's be honest, in real life, we wouldn't really want any of these guys as neighbors.
But they do leave a hell of a legend behind.
I'll give them that.
This is Kathy Barton and Dave Parra.
I rolled out one morning, see what I could see.
I fell in love with a pretty little girl and her in love with me.
And her in love with me.
I fell in love with a pretty little girl and her in love with me.
She took me to her father.
She fooled me with her dad.
She whispered low in mother's ear.
I love the gorilla man.
Love the gorilla man.
Whisper low in mother's ear.
I love a gorilla man.
Oh, daughter, oh, dear daughter, I can't treat me so.
Leave your dear old mother and with a gorilla go.
And with a gorilla go.
Leave your dear old mother and with a gorilla go.
Oh, mother, oh, dear mother, you know I love you well.
But the love I have for the gorilla man, no human tongue can tell.
No human tongue can tell.
The love I have for the gorilla man, no human tongue can tell.
Oh, oh, oh, oh I do not like the farmer that works all in dirt.
I'd rather have a gorilla man that wears a ruffle shirt.
That wears a ruffle shirt.
Rather have a gorilla man that wears a ruffled shirt.
I've underlucked my clothing, my true love by my side.
And I'll roam this country over and be a gorilla bride.
Be a gorilla bride.
Roam this country over and be a gorilla bride.
With his pockets lined with silver, a pistol in each hand.
A long life and full success to the roving gorilla man.
To the roving gorilla man.
Long life and full success to the roving gorilla man.
I am a roving gorilla.
I am a roving gorilla.
I do sit down, joy I do sit down Every pocketbook I spy, joy I slide her down Every
pocketbook I
spy, joy I slide her down Every pocketbook I spy, joy I slide her down Good evening, comrades.
Tonight I'm going to be discussing New Culture, New Right, Anti-Liberalism in Postmodern Europe, and this is by Mikhail O'Meara.
Now, this is a historical overview of the intellectual identitarian movement seen through a Benoist lens.
Now, as you have likely already learned, the Benoa study group, which has the acronym GREASE, is not anti-leftist per se, but is strongly concerned with threats to Europe.
As you can imagine, this think tank has been a very strong influence on the identitarian movement globally.
This Greece movement, which of course is both an acronym and in reference to the classics, like Euro-Siberianism and National Socialism, it tends to dislike any outgrowth of libertine movements.
So of course this book takes a dim view of Americanism per se.
America's outgrowth of the Enlightenment, A place that they see as being set up for profit, and there's a great deal of rootlessness.
The author also talks about a great deal of criticism of the Puritans.
The Puritans are seen as materialistic and, in a way, rather Jewish in their view of the world.
Now, also too, as you might imagine, this movement tends to question the wisdom of adopting Christianity.
They fear that both liberalism and Christianity are tendencies that tend to have weakened Europe.
However, there has not been anything worse than the loss of sovereignty in 1945.
After that point, Europe essentially came under NATO, which is essentially an American organization.
This intellectual-identitarian movement is heavily influenced by Nietzsche, as you might imagine, but it's also more and more strongly influenced by Heidinger.
This book gives a very interesting synopsis of Heidinger about how beings are thrown into a certain circumstance.
And when they embrace this thrownness, they become complete.
Also, there's a notion in this book that's mentioned quite a bit about individuals appropriating various elements from history which can be utilized as an expression of their will.
This kind of historical appropriation is, according to the author, the true meaning of Nietzschean eternal recurrence.
So sometimes we might be led to believe that the notion of eternal occurrence is wanting to live one's life over and over again in exactly the same way.
But according to this book, its real meaning is the notion that one should abandon a simply linear notion of time and should see a certain circularity within both life and in history.
This intellectual movement seems to aspire to removing control, the American control, from what we might call the Rimlands, which are essentially Germany, because essentially whoever controls the Rimland has global control, and that does seem to be true.
The author talks about the original notion of the term liberty.
And liberty comes from a Roman word which relates to descendants.
So, actually, liberty is actually when one wants to secure a good life for one's descendants.
Now, this book does make mention, and it's been made mention rather frequently, This notion of irony within liberalism today because very often liberals will support the immigration of third-worlders who will come in to the first world and they will bring with them actually very conservative ideas.
So, in this respect, some of these intellectuals in this movement will tend to, at times, consider working with some of these conservatives that come in from the third world, and that's kind of made them the hippies of the far right, in a sense, if you want to call them actually far right.
Because the situation in Europe has been actually growing more and more desperate, they are starting to see that the Muslim influx is actually a greater or more immediate threat than Americanization.
And there are criticisms of the anti-Christian and anti-American view within this intellectual movement.
There are some who will say that there is a positive aspect to American vitality, and they also point out that not all Americans fit the Protestant mode of Puritans.
There are Catholic Americans, for example, who have a much more authoritarian worldview, that see a much more, are able to accept hierarchy.
The same would be true for Southern Americans traditionally.
It makes mention, which has been made mention before, of the notions that Europeans need a great project and right now are floundering without one.
There's also talk of the tragedy of the traditional lack of understanding between Germany and France, and it hopes that that gap can be bridged.
In some sense, it has been bridged in the notion of the European Union, but of course they're talking about a different aspect in this book.
The intellectuals that are interested in this project do admit that a lot of political change actually begins culturally, so they would like to have an influence on culture.
All in all, this book is not much of a surprise for those who are familiar with the European identity movement.
However, I would say it is worthwhile just for its clarification or its particular view of or opinion of both Nietzsche and Heidinger.
This book is very dense in terms of its ideas and It gets into a lot of detail, so there is a possibility that certain things could be possibly said more simply.
But at any rate, if you're looking for an overview of the identitarian movement in Europe, book would be very helpful.
So I hope you enjoyed this discussion.
Thank you for listening, and hail victory, comrades.
We're about to down, 18 wheels are rolling.
Are we going to do what they say can't be done?
We've got a long way to go, and it's a short time to get there.
I'm westbound just like a band that runs.
If you come hard on the belt, the sun never mind it breaks.
Let it all hang out, cause we gotta run the band.
you The Bird and the Boys.
This is the Trucker coming at you from the Welcome Center here on the state line of Wisconsin and Illinois.
On my way to Minnesota.
And I don't know if this is going to air the week of, but I'm recording it.
The week of the 38th anniversary of Mount St. Helens Poppingertop.
And I don't know if it's going to go off again or not, but that was, I guess, one of the last times we sent the homeland out to y 'all.
So thought I'd go and throw that in there for a little bit of trivial history.
Yeah, we have earthquakes out here in Washington.
Hopefully, one of those earthquakes will take some of California with it.
Anyway, yeah, we have a little bit of natural disasters out here, like I say, Mount St. Helens going off, but she's quiet right now.
Yes, we have earthquakes.
Of course, they have had earthquakes in the center of the country, too, down there along the Mississippi River there, along the Missouri state line and stuff.
That happened back in the 1800s, I forget the exact year, but yeah, that was quite catastrophic, and if that was going to happen, if it happened again at this stage of the United States, It would probably take out a bunch of bridges and rail lines and all that basically split the country in half.
So those of you over there east of the Mississippi River would end up stuck over there pretty much.
And as the wind blows from the west to the east, for the majority of the time, jet stream and all that kind of crap, if that big super volcano there at Yellowstone ever decides to pop its top, everybody east of there would definitely be screwed.
So, take that into consideration.
Who knows when it's going to happen?
If it will happen, I guess eventually it might.
But, like I say, they're predicting it's going to go off eventually.
Lord only knows when, but...
I just thought I'd throw that in there.
Like I say, I'm not sure exactly when week this is going to air, but if it happens to air after May 18th, hope you all had a happy St. Helens popping our top day.
Alright, well this is the Trucker signing off from Wisconsin.
I'm away to Minnesota, so I've successfully made it past Chicago one more time without getting my truck filled full of bullet holes, so I'm a happy camper.
Alright, this is the Trucker signing off from out here on the road.
Have a good one, comrades, and hope to see you out there on the road making your scouting trip and your migration soon.
Greetings, comrades.
This is Trucker coming at you from Rogers, Minnesota on Mother's Day, so greetings and salutations to all you mothers out there.
And a belated one at that because I didn't think about it until today for saying this on the podcast anyway.
So, for all of you new listeners and some of you not-so-new listeners and whatnot, I'm the Trucker.
I am now celebrating my 38th year up here in the homeland.
Not bragging, but just happened to have been an organic migrant.
Compliments of the United States Navy.
Ended up up here because the wife used to live up here and stuff.
And later this year, I'll be celebrating my 30th year in my current residence that I own and not rent or pay mortgage on or any of that.
It's paid off, so not bragging, just stating the fact that you can still own a property up here when I first purchased it way back when.
It was on the market for just under $45,000.
And now it's bouncing back and forth between the mid, like, say, $150 to spend as high as $250, maybe $300 appraised value.
You know, it just depends on the market value up here.
So it has increased in value since I purchased it.
Places up here aren't getting any cheaper.
Just saw on the internet earlier today, on my Facebook feed, that somebody has come out with this new pot idea of using 8-foot diameter, I think it is, water pipes and turning them into housing dwellings.
I guess making a flat floor in there.
I'm not sure, didn't catch what was under the floor, but putting a door at one end or both ends, I didn't really catch which.
They didn't have a price on it.
They were just kind of, they had them stacked out there on a city street with glass ends so you could see inside them and stuff.
So they were equipped with a little bathroom and a little living area and a little sleeping area and all that.
And so somebody, some ingenious individual came up with that.
And so I don't know if that's patented or whatever, but who knows.
You ingenious little individuals that want to go and start a business of your own making small housing pods.
There's an idea there.
Or making housing units out of shipping containers.
I've seen that also.
You can pick those up for a few thousand bucks depending on which size you're going after and the part of the country you live in.
But they usually have a crap ton of them stacked around the ports.
Empty just taking up real estate, so may as well make some use out of them, I guess.
Anyway, that's a few thoughts for you entrepreneurial individuals that want to go and start your own business.
Well, hey, go and make housing units that you could ship just about anywhere.
And shipping pods or shipping containers are pretty good and sturdy for transporting around.
You get all the amenities in it, and you can even equip them with solar panels on the top if they wanted to go and live off-grid or something like that.
So, there's some thoughts for you.
Alright, well, this is the trucker signing off from Rogers, Minnesota.
Got a delivery a couple of blocks from here in the morning, so I'm just staged for my start my day tomorrow.
So, alright.
Well, have a good one, comrades, and hope to see you out there on the road making your scouting trips and your migrations soon.
This is Trucker signing off from Minnesota.
We're going to do what they say can do.
Oh, we've got We've got a long way to go.
Any short time to get there I'm crisp, I'm just Watch a bandit run I'm just a bandit run Thank you.
Okay, I have to add something here to what the trucker just said.
I've always tried to be honest with you guys, not only about the many, many advantages of Northwest migration, but about the problems.
And the trucker is right.
Here in the Pugetopolis area, the housing situation is really, really brutal.
I've mentioned this before here on Radio Free Northwest, but since I talked about it last, President Trump has improved the economy to the point where Not just Seattle but many cities throughout the United States.
The big cities are experiencing incredible housing shortages.
Basically, that does seem to be the one thing Trump is good at.
The economy has come roaring back.
Now, in Seattle, we have always had a good economy.
We've got these huge employers here.
We've got Amazon.
We've got Boeing.
We've got Microsoft.
We've got the military down in Olympia, which is basically the southern part of the Pugetopolis.
We've got state government and all the massive government funds that come from that.
And so we've got this big, huge megalopolis here, ranging basically from Olympia in the south, almost as far north as Bellingham.
Where there are jobs, jobs, jobs.
The result is that for many years now, everybody and his kid brother has been trying to come here, and that's still the case, but there simply isn't enough housing.
And as I've said, that problem is now becoming apparent in all American major cities, where the economy is also coming roaring back.
One of the reasons that there is no affordable housing, of course, is the fact that the goddamned illegal aliens of all third world nations have come in and gobbled it up.
So that white working people can't rent a house or an apartment for anything affordable anymore.
That's not what I'm going to be talking about today, but guys, I have to be honest with you.
When you are examining the Northwest homeland for your area of migration, one of the things you need to take into consideration is the cost and availability of housing.
And right here in the greater Puget area, it ain't good.
It's also deteriorating somewhat over here on the kitsap side of the sound because Much to my horror and sadness, Kitsap County seems to be basically degenerating into a suburb of Seattle.
They've got this fast ferry thing in now, and the mighty megalopolis is finally starting to spill across the sound.
So, unless you are very well off, unless you're retiring or something, and you can bring a lot of assets with you, maybe from the sale of your previous home, or unless you have some skill that can get you a good job, but you can only do so here in Seattle, in the city, Then I would say you might want to look at some other areas of the homeland.
I know I'm kind of cutting my own throat because I keep yelling and screaming, hey, I've got to have you guys come here to help me out.
I need some staff.
But really, the housing market here is brutal.
You really need to look down south of Olympia at Centralia, all up and down the I-5 area between Olympia and Portland.
Some of those little rural communities there, you can still get some good deals if you can make a living there.
Out on I-90 between Seattle and Spokane.
We are actually getting a fair number of new migrants, and frankly, at this point, most of them seem to be choosing Idaho and Montana.
With Washington as a kind of a second choice, Oregon, for some reason, seems to be lagging behind.
Used to be we got a lot of immigrants coming up from California and settling in Grants Pass and Medford and places right there in southern Oregon, which supposedly that's about like what California was 30, 40 years ago.
Anyway, I just have to mention, in all honesty, that if you do want to come to the Pugetopolis, and it's still actually a pretty good place to live, you need to be prepared to spend a lot on housing, and you need to be able to afford it.
So, you can't claim I'm deceiving you guys or anything of the kind.
I'm being honest with you about the drawbacks as well as the advantages of migration.
This is Jack White.
I am a poor wayfiring stranger Traveling through this world below There is no
sickness, toil nor danger In that fair land
To which I go I'm going home I am just going over Georgia.
I am just going over Georgia.
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh I know dark clouds will hover o 'er me I know my pathway is rough and steep But
gold can feel I'm going home to see my father.
I'm going home, no more to roam.
I am just going over Jordan.
I am just going over all.
I am just going over all.
I'll soon be free from every trial.
This form shall rest beneath the sun I'll drop the cross of self-denial And enter in that home with God I'm going
home, cause He's my Savior Oh I'm going home.
No more to roam.
I am just going.
I am just going over all I am just going over all the time Thank you.
For a few weeks earlier this year, I read aloud for you some chapters in an anthology I compiled some years ago called Weird Aryan History, and it was fairly well received.
But I also put together two smaller anthologies or stories entitled The Jewish History Series and The Gay History Series.
The Jewish History Series was necessary because so many of us, especially millennial types, yap on the internet about how Jews are evil.
But they're short on the kind of encyclopedic knowledge us old-timers had from reading our classical privately printed books and pamphlets in our Garrett Attic rooms.
These younger guys tag each other on Twitter and Instagram saying, Hey dude, are you JQ'd?
When they're barely JQ'd themselves and don't know their Trotskys from their Bronsteins.
I probably won't read anything from the Gay History series, since despite my generally light-hearted approach to the topic, it really isn't funny.
It's simply disgusting, especially with the problem we're having nowadays with queers trying to take over white nationalism and thereby validate and normalize their perversion.
But some of the Jewish history series you might find not only interesting, but pertinent.
Tell you what, I'm going to combine two of my lifelong interests here, Jews and just plain weirdness, as expressed in Murder and Paranormal Stuff.
Now, this is one of those lengthy reads that if you copy this episode of Radio Free Northwest onto a CD, you can play it in your car in traffic, whatever, and make it a kind of a substitute for those audiobooks that we don't have yet.
This is Lesson 5 in the Jewish History Series, and it's called The Man Who Fell from the Sky.
On July 4, 1928, a Fokker tri-motor aircraft took off from Croydon Airfield just outside London, bound for Brussels.
On board were the plane's owner, 51-year-old Alfred Lowenstein, a financier of immense wealth and influence.
There were also the pilot, Former WWI ace Donald Drew, as well as a co-pilot.
It should be pointed out that both of these men were in the cockpit, which was sealed.
There was no way to get from the cockpit into the passenger compartment or vice versa.
Oddly enough, neither was there any kind of intercom or method of speaking to the pilot.
Aircraft designers simply hadn't thought of that in 1928.
There was also a valet, a male secretary, and two female stenographers who, according to contemporary accounts, had just been hired from a temp agency that day, making a total of seven people on the flight.
The plane never reached the intended destination of Brussels.
Instead, at about 6.30pm local time, it landed on a deserted beach on the Normandy coast for half an hour, and no clear account was ever obtainable as to just what the passengers and the crew did there.
Then the plane took off again and made a three- or four-minute flight, landing a second time at a French military airfield nearby, where the crew told French authorities that their boss Loewenstein was missing.
According to the four people in the passenger compartment, soon after the plane crossed the English coast off Dover, Loewenstein got up and went to the bathroom, which was a new development in aviation comfort, this particular model of Fokker being the first commercial airplane ever equipped with such an amenity.
It was in a small compartment at the back of the plane.
After passing through the compartment door, Lowenstein went to the left and entered the bathroom.
On the right was another door, which led out of the plane.
There was also a door in a bulkhead separating the head from the rest of the aircraft, so that anyone coming and going into the restroom was not visible from the main compartment.
After about ten minutes, they noticed that he hadn't returned, and his valet, Fred Baxter, went to check on him and found...
nothing.
A combined French and British air and sea search came up empty-handed, but two weeks later, Alfred Lowenstein's body was found floating, fully clothed, not nude as some reports had it, in mid-channel, and picked up by a fishing trawler.
An autopsy was carried out by Belgian authorities, and it was discovered that Lowenstein did not die of drowning, but apparently of the pulverizing internal injuries which occurred when his body slammed into the ocean after falling for about 5,000 feet.
Watch that last step, Jew boy, it's a doozy!
Lowenstein's Roman Catholic wife, Madeline, had her husband buried in Brussels, in an unmarked grave.
She did not attend the funeral.
A hastily held inquest, oddly convened in Lowenstein's home country of Belgium instead of England, where the flight originated, or France, where the incident was first reported, ruled that Lowenstein's death was probably accidental, and although the case made international headlines, there the matter stands to this day.
Alfred Lowenstein was a Belgian Jew of obscure origins, admittedly a brilliant financial mind.
He was described in the newspapers of the time as a notably successful entrepreneur of the period from World War I through the 1920s.
In fact, he was a high-flying international stock swindler, embezzler, and thief who spent his entire life dancing along the edge of the law and getting away with it, raking in millions of dollars and pounds and francs in the process.
At one stage in the Roaring Twenties, he was called the richest man in the world.
Yet so insufferably arrogant and untrustworthy was his character that even his own kind on the London Stock Exchange couldn't stand him.
He was devoid of either financial or personal ethics, and a serial adulterer who spent his rare occasions at home beating his wife and children.
Although Belgian by nationality, Lowenstein had lived in Britain since he fled from the advancing Germans in 1914.
During the First World War, Lowenstein zeroed in on the incredible profits to be made in war contracting to the British Army and managed to procure for himself a job in the Royal Army Services Corps, what we would call the Quartermaster Corps, which involved supplying the British Army with various material and supplies by civilian contractors.
War profiteering is an ancient commercial specialty of the Jewish people.
Indeed, there is a Yiddish proverb which loosely translates as, When the goyim bleed, The Jews shall feed.
Lowenstein developed such an unsavory reputation in the war procurement business, and the allegations of fraud, kickbacks, and shady dealings were so persistent that in 1917 the British Army cashiered him and fired him from his job in the Services Corps.
Such was Lowenstein's pull that the very next day after he was fired he walked into his office and sat down at his old desk, this time wearing the uniform of a captain in the Belgian army.
For the rest of his life the Jew referred to himself as Captain Lowenstein and wore an array of medals he never earned, which made him really popular among genuine veterans who had fought in the trenches.
When the war ended, Captain Lowenstein was a pound sterling millionaire.
How he managed to accomplish this on the salary of a lowly captain in either army was never explained.
Lowenstein then plunged headlong into virtually every unsavory business he could find, from international arms dealing, where he was the partner of the sinister and infamous Jew Basil Zahirov, to international narcotics smuggling, where he was the European representative of Arnold LeBrain Rothstein, the Jew who was the real founder of the American Mafia.
Indeed, it has always been speculated that Lowenstein's death might have had something to do with the Rothstein connection, since Lowenstein had just come back from a trip to the United States, where he met with Rothstein in New York in May of 1928.
But above all, Lowenstein was a master of the stock market swindle, the promotion of worthless stocks, bankrupt companies, and non-existent African gold mines, anything that could part the suckers from their money.
Lowenstein displayed a positive genius for not only making huge sums of money illicitly, but for staying just barely on the right side of the law.
He was investigated a dozen times by police and such regulatory agencies as existed in the 1920s in England and the United States, Europe, and South Africa.
The law never managed to lay a glove on him.
All this time, Lowenstein was leading a gaudy and expensive lifestyle.
There was his manor house in the Shires, where he allegedly bought his way into the local fox hunt for a colossal sum.
His incredible retinue, his racing stable, eight villas in Biarritz, and fantastic fox hunting weekends where the best of British society milked this Jewish outsider for stock tips and snubbed him everywhere else.
His wife Madeline and their children lived apart from him in Brussels, and some of Lowenstein's house parties in his British country seat developed into drunken and drug-sodden orgies of sex and high-stakes gambling that shocked even the jaded flappers and jazz babies of the twenties.
Edward, Prince of Wales, who later reigned briefly as Edward VIII, had to be forcibly banned by his father, King George V and Scotland Yard's special branch, from attending any Lowenstein functions because of the immense potential for scandal.
Lowenstein's death was odd in all kinds of ways, not just his manner of exiting from life.
No real investigation was ever undertaken, and it looks very much as if the fix was in on an elevated level.
The pilot of the Death Plane's story alone had more holes in it than a Swiss cheese, but Captain Drew was allowed to depart for a job in South America and never questioned again.
He died of cancer several years later.
The valet Fred Baxter was found with a bullet in his brain, an alleged suicide.
All the other passengers on the ill-fated death flight disappeared from view.
When author William Norris tried to track them down in the late 1970s, all were dead, but he did manage to speak to the co-pilot's widow and get hold of the notes Loewenstein had been working on during the flight before his ill-fated trip to the crapper.
After fifty years, Norris was unable to make much sense of the notes.
They may or may not have had something to do with his death.
But one wondered how the co-pilot ended up with them in his possession and why he kept them.
What gives the case its very odd flavor is that it was just plain impossible for events to have occurred as all six witnesses claimed, and yet none of them were even called to testify at the inquest, and the police in three countries proved themselves to be intensely disinterested in finding out what had happened.
Apparently, Lowenstein was so universally despised that the attitude all around was good riddance to bad rubbish.
The official version was that after completing his ablutions, Lowenstein got confused when he left the cubicle and opened the outside door instead of the door to the cabin, stepping out and falling to his death in a cartoonish freak accident.
This is horse feathers.
It couldn't have happened like that.
For one thing, the door was locked with heavy deadbolts on the inside, and Lowenstein would have had to slide them back.
For another, the door was clearly marked exit.
In addition, the noise of a door opening on a plane in midair would have alerted everyone aboard.
The Fokker's cruising speed was approximately 160 miles per hour, and the 6x4 door through which Alfred Lowenstein allegedly fell opened outward and on the after side of the doorframe, against the slipstream.
Several fascinated news agencies did follow the story, and some journalists attempted to reproduce the alleged accident using the same model of airplane at cruising speed and altitude.
It couldn't have been done, at least not accidentally.
It took two muscular male reporters wearing safety lines, working together and using all of their strength to force open the door in midair against the slipstream, just wide enough for a human body to squeeze through.
Finally, when the door eventually was forced open with great effort against the wind, it acted just like a breaking airfoil and caused the airplane to buck up and down like a Bronco.
There was simply no way that the door could have been opened in flight without a group effort and without the pilot and everyone in the cabin noticing that something was very wrong.
These facts apply to both accident and suicide and would seem to eliminate both possibilities.
Another mystery is why the pilot chose to land on a deserted and, he thought, unobserved stretch of beach in France.
What were the six people doing during that time?
The unscheduled stop actually came out in the newspapers because somebody saw them land and notified the French police, and a couple of gendarmes came down to the beach asking if they needed assistance.
The passengers and the crew admitted that someone had gone overboard but refused to give Lowenstein's name.
Had they not been seen, it's possible that the initial covert landing would never have been reported to the authorities.
Some speculated that Lowenstein had actually been murdered on the beach and his body dumped in the drink there, but this seems contradicted by the medical evidence that he did indeed fall, and also by the fact that his body was not washed up, but was found floating high in mid-channel.
One theory that's developed down through the years is that the murder was meticulously planned to the point where one of the conspirators actually had a second door made for the Fokker, removed the factory door, and installed the spare.
Then, once in the airplane, the valet and male secretary overpowered or pulled a gun on Lowenstein.
Neither the pilot nor the co-pilot, remember, could have gotten into the cabin to participate in the actual murder, although they had to be aware of some kind of rumpus going on behind them.
It had to have been the two men, with the two women at least looking on.
The killers removed the entire door from its hinges, which would have been much easier than trying to force it open against the air pressure of the slipstream, and kicked it out into space, then threw Lowenstein out after it.
The pilot, then landed, removed the original door with the matching manufacturer's serial numbers from a storage space in the luggage compartment, and reinstalled it before flying on to the French aerodrome.
No door from a Fokker trimotor was ever found, but it was mostly metal and it would have sunk to the bottom of the channel.
As Sherlock Holmes said in one of his stories, when one has eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
The astounding fact is that the death of Alfred Lowenstein had to be murder.
Anything else was physically impossible, and all of the other six people on the plane had to be in on it.
Because they all told a blatant and obviously choreographed lie.
This included the two female stenographers who had supposedly just been brought along as temporary help and hadn't even met Lowenstein before that morning.
But who would have the will, the finances, and the power to carry out such a complex assassination?
The fact is that the list of people who wanted Alfred Lowenstein dead was the size of a phone book, and at the head of the list was his own long-neglected and abused Gentile wife, Madeline, the daughter of a Belgian industrialist whom Lowenstein had ruined and, according to rumor, driven to suicide.
After Madeline came droves of people Lowenstein had cheated of their life savings, as well as one half-crazed Swiss inventor whom he had swindled out of a priceless patent for treating and hardening aircraft wing and fuselage canvas during the war.
All metal aircraft were unknown until the 1920s.
There were also rumors flying about at the time of his death that Lowenstein's paper empire was about to crumble and that the American authorities were about to indict Lowenstein for narcotics smuggling related crimes.
Could it have been a mob hit ordered by Arnold Rothstein?
Rothstein was certainly capable of it, but in the 1920s the mob was even less known for subtlety than in the present day, what with all the Tommy guns and such.
If Lowenstein had been on the spot marked X, Rothstein could have had him gunned down in New York only a few months before, where Rothstein owned the cops and the judges.
No, something this outré has a definite British feel about it.
Sounds like someone was reading too many of those incredibly elaborate murder mysteries of the period and decided to try their hand, but whoever it was, they pulled it off.
It could have been a government-ordered rub-out by one of James Bond's precursors, but it also needs to be remembered that in his time, Lowenstein had ripped off just about every major figure in the British financial world.
I know it's difficult for us now to envisage a time when Jews didn't rule the roost in the upper strata of society, but such a time once was.
In those days, the British upper class were made of much sterner stuff than these boy-buggering weenies we've got today who act as the American president's poodles.
Some of those Victorian holdovers would not have appreciated being robbed and deceived by a jumped-up pushcart peddler like Al Lowenstein.
Somebody went to a lot of time and effort to set this up, and a very nasty Jew boy took a very long swan dive.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer hebe.
Well, whoever it was.
jolly good show old chaps
Started out All alone And the sun went down As I crossed the hill And the town lit up The world got still I'm learning to fly Bingo We're
Well, the good old days may not return.
And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn.
I'm ready to fly, but I ain't got wings.
Coming down is the hardest thing.
I'm ready to fly.
Some say life will beat you down.
Break your heart.
Steal your crown.
So it started out.
For God knows where.
I guess I'll know.
When I get there.
I'm waiting to fly.
Around the clouds.
What goes up.
Must come down.
Hey!
I'm waiting to fly.
But I ain't got wings.
Coming down.
Is the hardest thing.
I'm waiting to fly.
Around the clouds.
What goes up must come down.
I'm learning to fly.
I'm it today, I'm it today, I'm it today, I'm it today.
I'm it today, I'm it today.
Thank you.
But our time is up for this week's edition of Radio Free Northwest.
This program is brought to you by the Northwest Front, Post Office Box 2188, Bremerton, Washington, 98310.
Or you can go to the party's website at www.northwestfront.org.
This is Harold Covington, and I'll see you next week.
Until then, Sasha Underban.
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