Westbrook Pegler
Roanoke Rapids Daily Herald/September 21, 1948
Since Bubblehead Wallace’s gibbering evasion of the question whether he wrote the goofy Guru letters, I have obtained copies of two other, fine examples of the absurdity which pervades the entire series. I handled the originals of these two and faithfully typed the copies which I will present herewith after some introductory discussion.
While I was at it, I examined closely the originals of the series which I published in these essays last winter. As this was the first time I had had access to them, I compared my photographs with those originals. I learned from the person who owns them that these are the same letters which were made available to several publishers in 1944, when Bubblehead was Franklin D. Roosevelt’s handpicked candidate for vice-president.
I am now ready to take care of Wallace any time he dares to deny that he wrote this historic nonsense. He knows that if he ever accepts the challenge I would show him up as the most alarming fool who ever happened into such high office as he held since the days of the half-wit kings in Europe. After all, those royal idiots could be restrained, but if Roosevelt had died during his third term we would have had a president who had been the butt of the esoteric circle on Riverside Drive, laughed at and egged on for the amusement that he gave by his solemn absurdity.
At the time I wrote about Bubblehead’s complicity in the affairs of the Josshouse I was prepared to defend all that I alleged. But since then, I have extended and strengthened my acquaintance among persons who were there. And the one who most heartily resents his betrayal of Roerich while he was in Asia, and his conspiracy to help Louis L. Horch grab title to the lamasery for himself, is a figure of terror to Henry.
And the owner of the original letters is ready to face Wallace any time he is ready to face the issue.
As I said, I will present two more of the goofy guru letters. Today, this is the first.
“Wardman Park Hotel, Washington, D. C.
“Dear —
“A letter from Mrs. Jane Dower of the temple people tells me that the Roerich people have been very kind to her and her daughter.
[Incidentally no disparagement is to be inferred of the lady named or the daughter. Many of those associated with Roerich were very reasonable persons. Bubblehead himself was no sillier when he emerged from his oriental phase than he was before W. P.]
“And so I think of you and the longings and colors of the East, curiously enough, the talk I gave you when you were here seems to have been to the good. Charles Roos. Of Minnesota. Write to me:
“The wind blows cold on the Mesa.
A gale is rising.
Set your prayer plumes deep.
And hold fast to your (caps) hat. (Uncaps)
“Says the message is straight from the Cheyenne Gods. Interpreted it to mean I have hard fighting ahead which I can survive only by keeping close to the great ones. But, of course, I have known this for more than a year.
“Somehow, I feel there are still many dramatic happenings in prospect.
“I was with Roosevelt for half an hour this afternoon. He was so much pleased with having averted war temporarily in Europe. Surely a joyous spirit. I have many hard, careful things to do and at the same time I must evoke a new spirit in many quarters.
“Therefore, I must read Agni Yoga and sit by myself once in a while.
“We are dealing with the first crude beginnings of a new age. May the peace of the great ones descend upon you.”
This letter is signed with a juvenile monogram, like a cattle-brand, combining the initials “H. A. W.” It appears on several of the Goofy Guru letters.
The crack about the “first crude beginnings of a new age” seems to be out of the same flask with the one in another letter proposing that the people of the United States should “descend into the depths of the purifying fires.”
The second letter reads:
“A brief note before I am whirled away in the maelstrom. [I will try to disclose the idiocy of this rapture about the dorje in a footnote. W.P.]
“Splendid! I will have it on my desk as a constant reminder of your message, which is such phrasing of the thought of the master, ‘thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’
“The day the dorje arrived a priest gave me a beautiful crucifix and with it blessing. And Charlie Roos, of Taylor’s Falls, had already given me the old Sioux medicine bag. And I set the three up side by side, and thought of the common life running through them like the central staff running through the dorje.
“The new life is being poured into the old bottles and the crackling is alarming all the peoples. The life must be made manifest.
“Some day when I am not rushed. I hope to write a real letter. In the meantime, I accept the dorje as long as I am in the government service.
“Yours in the common cause, H. A. W.”
The dorje is a Buddhist luck-piece which was given to Bubblehead by my informant just as a luck-piece, but with no suggestion that it was a sacred or magical amulet. They sell them in the bazaars in Tibet. But Bubblehead was such a sap that he was always blubbering about the commonplace and so, naturally, some members of the cult figured that it would be a shame not to take advantage of his credulous condition to make a little time.
Two members of the old circle who remained loyal to Roerich, the Guru, have repeatedly said that Wallace dribbled information which enabled another member, a smart cookie in Wall street, to knock off big profits speculating in international exchange.
And when old Roerich wanted to put over his pact and banner of peace, a treaty to protect cultural monuments in war, who could expect the old boy to refrain from using Bubblehead as the promoter of the job in Washington and finally, as the Lord “protector” at the solemn ceremonies of signature and consecration? Wallace’s part in all this, and Roosevelt’s, too, are all in the ordinary newspaper files of that day.
The temptation is strong to be sore at Bubblehead for becoming vice-president for four years in time of World War and for three years of our own war, but it has got to be resisted. This poor, drooling snerd didn’t know any better.
The guilty one was Roosevelt. He got all the breaks. He did his stuff and was dead and gone, with honors, before the awful story of his reign began to leak out.
(Source: Google News)
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