Georgia judge ordered Atlanta's Black Shriners to stop wearing the fez. Shriners are Freemasons known for that brimless red hat. In 1915 a paper outside Atlanta told readers it was now unlawful for any Black person in Georgia to use the Shriners' name or fez. The Black Shriners' local chapter, called a temple, had about ninety members, and the white temple that sued would soon have nearly five thousand. So who was going to pay to fight it? The fight started on Monday, August 17, 1914, when Forrest Adair went to court in Atlanta. Adair was the head of Yaarab, the city's white temple. Black Masons had their own Shrine brotherhood, and its Atlanta temple was called Rabban. Adair's suit named Rabban's potentate, or head, Charles Faison. Faison had gone to work in a barbershop as a boy of about ten, and he would stay at that shop nearly fifty years. In May 1914, three months before the suit, the white Shriners had held their national convention in Atlanta. A white newspaper explaining the suit wrote that after the convention, the city's Black Shriners had become "offensively conspicuous." Being seen was the whole offense. Adair and six other white Shriners asked the court to stop Rabban from using the words Shriner and potentate. They even wanted Rabban barred from its own name, which was also a title for Shrine officers. The white men wanted the regalia stopped too, meaning the fez and the rest of the ceremonial dress. Their petition said all of it was too much like the white temple's. Who in Atlanta could judge a fight with the white Shriners? The suit had been filed in the Superior Court, the county's main trial court. Every one of its judges was a Shriner or had family in the white temple. The case went to a judge from outside the city, from the Blue Ridge Circuit north of Atlanta. On Thursday, December 17, 1914, the Black temple's lawyers told him their clients were not ready. The white side insisted on a hearing right away or a temporary ban. He issued the temporary ban that same day. Rabban was founded in 1908, and it took a court one Thursday to start telling its men what they could no longer wear. On January 18, 1915, the judge kept the ban in place until a trial could be held. Rabban's men could no longer call themselves nobles, the Shrine's word for its members. Their temple could no longer call itself a Shrine temple. Four days later, the paper in Marietta, a town northwest of Atlanta, spelled out what the ban meant for Black Shriners across Georgia. Each member had to get rid of his pins, his regalia and his uniform. In the spring of 1915, the Black temple's appeal reached the Georgia Supreme Court. The court's official reports even got Faison's name wrong, spelling it Faisan. Three of its justices had to step aside, two of them with ties to the white temple. One was a member himself. The other was brother-in-law to Georgia's governor, another member. In March 1916, with substitute justices sitting in, the Georgia Supreme Court let the Blue Ridge judge's ban stand until the trial. Its opinion said the white Shriners did not even have to show they had lost a dollar. By the summer of 1916, Rabban was down to twenty-seven men. The few who stayed had paid four thousand dollars toward the lawyers out of their own pockets. Many who could have paid the most had walked away rather than pay their share. That August, Faison carried the fight to Chicago, to the national meeting of the Black Shriners. A young Mason named W. C. Kilpatrick went with Faison, paying his own way. John Wesley Dobbs made the trip too. Dobbs would one day lead the Prince Hall Masons of Georgia, a Black Masonic order. The Georgia men made their plea. Then Eugene Phillips of New York, a past national head, said the Black Shriners should not fight for so small a group. Phillips moved that Rabban's last members join the nearest temples in other states. Somebody seconded it at once. Two years and four thousand dollars, and now the national body was being asked to walk away. A visiting committee from the Knights Templar, another Masonic order, had been seated beside the chairman. One of its members was Charles A. Cottrell of Toledo, Ohio, himself a Black Shriner. Cottrell now stood, told the room he was a constitutional lawyer and spoke for about seven minutes. He reminded them what the Georgia temple had carried alone for two years. The fight, he said, should have been theirs from the start. Then Jake Wright, another past national head, handed over a personal check for five hundred dollars to start a defense fund. Nothing more was heard of Phillips's motion. The fight went on. In May 1917, the trial finally came, and a jury in Atlanta made the ban permanent. The jury decided that Rabban's men wore the same badges and used the same titles as the white Shriners. In September 1918, the Georgia Supreme Court let the verdict stand. Rabban's men had now lost at every step in Georgia, and their temple could no longer meet as a Shrine. Next, the white Shriners went to court in Houston, Texas. On December 14, 1918, the white temple in Houston sued the Black temple there, which had opened the year before. This suit went after the whole Black Shrine, about nine thousand men in seventy-six temples. The Texas trial court gave the white Shriners everything they asked for, and it called the Black Shriners' copying a fraud. On paper, its ban bound every Black Shriner in North America. The fight had begun against one small temple in Atlanta. In 1925 a Texas appeals court upheld that ruling. The state's highest court did too, and the Black Shriners took the case to the United States Supreme Court. Through the 1920s, the Black Shriners kept holding national meetings, with members parading in costume in 1927. It isn't clear how far outside Texas anyone tried to enforce the ban. In January 1928, lawyers argued the case before the Supreme Court. The record they brought showed what the white Shriners had known, and for how long. In 1894 the white Shriners' own national leader had complained about Black groups that "pirated our title." Then the white Shriners waited twenty years before suing in Atlanta. The record also held testimony from the Texas trial. Some of it came from a life member of the white Shriners. The witnesses said much of what the Black Shriners wore had been bought from or through white Shriners. In a city the record doesn't name, a white temple that was moving sold its old regalia to the local Black temple. White Shriners had sold them the regalia, and white Shriners had taken them to court for wearing it. On June 3, 1929, the Supreme Court reversed the Texas ruling. Justice Willis Van Devanter wrote that the white Shriners had "silently stood by for many years." The Court ruled that the white Shriners had waited too long. It also found no fraud, since the Black Shriners had always presented themselves as separate from the white ones. Nearly fifteen years after the first suit in Atlanta, the Black Shriners had won. That win came in the Texas case, not in Atlanta's. No record shows that it lifted Georgia's old ban on Rabban. On a Monday in February 1936, Charles Faison, Rabban's old potentate, served on a federal grand jury, the panel that decides who gets charged. That evening Faison was at a board meeting of the barbershop company he now ran, where he had worked since boyhood. He collapsed there and died at the hospital, at about sixty. A Georgia court had once told Faison what he could not wear. On the last day of his life, a federal court had seated him on a grand jury. Five months later, Atlanta's Black Shriners had a temple again. John Wesley Dobbs, who had made the Chicago trip with Faison, brought it back with forty-one new members, according to the temple's own history. The temple came back with a new name, too. The old name was the one the white Shriners had gone to court to take away. Rabban became Nabbar. By July 1937, Nabbar had taken in sixteen new men on a single Sunday and counted seventy members in all. That month Dobbs told an Atlanta paper the Texas fight had cost more than seventy thousand dollars. In an account published in 1975, Kilpatrick, the young Mason from the Chicago trip, named dozens of men who had kept the fight alive. Two stood above the rest: Cottrell, the Toledo lawyer, and Wright, who wrote the first check. Kilpatrick asked the Black Shriners to bow their heads for those two at their national meetings. Of his own part, Kilpatrick wrote, "I do not ask for any recognition for myself." Nabbar, spelled backward, still says Rabban, the name its last twenty-seven men paid to defend.

 

hardly believable your followers may all be idiots but the rest of us know this was all fake to make people sympathize with him to vote him in CIA is master at street theatre and this was all a gigantic satanic illusion crooks does not even exist

 

 

 

What to know about Hegseth’s new office of religious affairs

What to know about Hegseth’s new office of religious affairs: “Our department is, you might say, putting on the full armor of God.”

 

 

 

 

He would send a completely innocent person to prison his whole staff just saying they lie endlessly he is the father of lies the most unclean

 

Possible pay scale for gang stalkers. Please keep in mind that this is a illegal, criminal program, so this info is put together by accounts of those targeted by the program and those who are whistleblowing on the program