Quoting Arnie Bernstein’s Swastika Nation: Fritz Kuhn and the Rise and Fall of the German‐American Bund, prologue:

In February 1939, the German‐American Bund was a force on the march. Tonight, with the Washington’s Birthday Rally, years of hard work were culminating. Though Kuhn’s accent was thick—a still‐dominant vestige of his German origins—his voice was clear and strong. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the Bundesführer began, “fellow Americans, American patriots: I am sure I do not come before you tonight as a complete stranger. You will have heard of me through the Jewish‐controlled press as a creature with horns, a cloven hoof, and a long tail.”

The audience roared with laughing approval.

On the floor directly in front of the dais, a man snapped out of the crowd. He was determined, angry, hurling himself at the stage like a Rangers hockey linesman on the attack. The podium shook, a microphone tumbled to the floor. For a moment, Kuhn was flustered.

Several OD bodyguards, a mass of muscle, swarmed the man and pummeled him into submission through the power of fists and the thrilling crack of boot heels. The show of force was met with loud cheers some twenty thousand strong. The attacker’s pants were ripped from his legs during the struggle. Later identified as an unemployed Jewish plumber’s assistant from Brooklyn, the man was shoved into the waiting arms of New York’s Finest, handcuffed, and hustled out of the Garden.

It was an unexpected surprise in a night of order.

With the interloper now removed, Kuhn again looked over his people. He knew that beyond the followers packed in Madison Square Garden tonight were thousands more throughout the United States, eager to follow his every command in their shared dream of a great fascist Jew‐free America.

But outside Madison Square Garden, beyond the 100,000 protestors swarming New York streets were other adversaries, disparate, unconnected and as improbable a confederation that ever existed. They came from the halls of justice, from the annals of show business, and from the dark underbelly of America. Though far from united, they were singular in their goal to bring down Kuhn and smash his movement.

[…]

None of this mattered inside the Garden right now. Tonight the German‐American Bund was on the verge of great victory, a march into history. Kuhn thundered ahead, words pouring out of him. Let the mob outside revel in their hate! Soon they would all be under his command. A Swastika Nation with Kuhn at the helm.

Fritz Kuhn had the loyalty of thousands. The passionate love of a golden‐haired Aryan woman. His adoring children. And his wife.

The stage was set.