Shortly after I discovered William Dudley Pelley circa 1993 (see Shaking Hands with the Devil) I looked up his obituary in the New York Times. After the usual paragraphs of smear they got around to mentioning that he had a son surviving in New Jersey. I looked him up in the phone directory. I called. His wife answered. I asked if they had any of Mr. Pelley’s books, magazines, etc. She told me that his daughter still sold his books and gave me Adelaide’s phone number.
I called Adelaide, had a short chat and got the address for Fellowship Press, Inc. in Noblesville, Indiana.
Soon I was buying books and with each order sending a letter for Adelaide with questions about her dad and the history of his operations. Often they must have seemed tedious questions and even painful questions when she recounted details patiently in answer about the trials and imprisonment. I was young and brash in my line of inquiry.
We swapped many letters. I bought many books.
Then in 1995 I went to Noblesville and spent the day at the Pearson’s home. That’s another chapter.
While on this visit I saw that she had framed on her wall a portrait of her father as an elderly looking man very much covered in shadow but with his defining features clear, also the lines in his face, the bags beneath his eyes, the wear of years immediately noticeable.
“That’s my favorite picture of him,” she said. And I looked at her looking at the photo of her father and I saw the love in her face.
Here is that photo.