Dragon tried to run a normal meeting but the rank and file shouted him down. "When I came home from work the other night," one of them complained, "there was my kid and a bunch of others, some with towels tied around their necks like capes and some with pillowcases over their heads. The ones with capes was chasing the ones with pil-     lowcases all over the lot. When I asked them what they were doing, they said they were playing a new kind of cops and robbers called Superman against the Klan. Gangbusting, they called it! Knew all our secret passwords and everything. I never felt so ridiculous in all my life! Suppose my own kid finds my Klan robe some day?" The Grand Dragon promised to expose the Judas in their midst. "The damage has already been done," said one Klansman. "Our sacred ritual being profaned by a bunch of kids on the radio!" said the Kladd. "They didnt put it all on the air," the Grand Dragon offered. "What they didnt broadcast wasnt worth broadcasting," said the Kladd. The Dragon suggested they change their password immediately, from "red-blooded" to "death to traitors." After that nights meeting, Kennedy phoned in the new password to the Superman producers, who promised to write it into the next show. At the following weeks Klan meeting, the room was nearly empty; applications for new membership had fallen to zero. Of all the ideas that Kennedy had thought up-and would think up in the future-to fight bigotry, his Superman campaign was easily the cleverest and probably the most productive. It had the precise ef- fect he hoped: turning the Klans secrecy against itself, converting pre- cious knowledge into ammunition for mockery. Instead of roping in millions of members as it had just a generation earlier, the Klan lost momentum and began to founder. Although the Klan would never quite die, especially down South-David Duke, a smooth-talking