Eulogy For David Lane By Richard Kemp.

Native American lore teaches an owl is a harbinger of death. I don’t buy into this superstition, so when I saw a great horned owl perched outside my window on the night of May 27th little did I realize I had lost a dear friend, trusted comrade, and hero of our folk David Eden Lane.

When a man becomes a living legend, we forget he was mortal and possessed many of the same passions as rest of us. Many of you are unaware he was a boxer, or that he was a scratch golfer who used to hustle skins games at various golf courses around the West. When I first met him, he was working for a title company. He was the stereotypical middle aged bachelor who liked to dance with the ladies at the country and western bars on the weekend and had a knack for hooking up with wild women.

The first time I met him, his woman friend was chasing after him with a sword and intended to inflict grievous bodily harm upon his person. It took three strapping men disarm her. I thought to myself; this is a guy who lives life on the edge, maybe he can teach me a thing or two.

Though David had a silver tongue and was a smooth talker with the ladies, he was not given to ostentatious displays. He lived out of his suitcase for the first year that I knew him. At the same time, he often slept on people’s sofas of hide- a- beds, or stayed in cheap motel room. He was given to wearing casual slacks or jeans and a dress shirt covered by a windbreaker. For transportation, he drove a broken down VW bug with no power. One day, he let me drive it to the store, and I swear, I had the accelerator pressed to the floor just to get it up to 50 M.P.H. on the highway. Yes my friends, although he did not have a lot of wealth and finery, this man was a prince. In personal sacrifice, he eschewed all worldly goods and gave his heart and soul to fight for a dying race.

David was most ardent in his beliefs. He was unafraid to speak his mind both verbally and in his many writings. He was an adherent to the “By any means necessary” school of thought. He fought for our people with both pen and sword - though it was his pen that proved to be his greatest weapon. He penned “The 88 Precepts” and was responsible for coining The 14 Words. The title of his book Damned, Defiant, and Deceived summarized in just three “D’s” how Mr. Lane viewed the world. In my mind, his defiance is what will forever ring true in my memories of him. David was defiant with every fiber of his being. Even when they took his freedom and locked him away in some of the highest security prisons in the U.S., he continued to tweak the nose of the authorities with his fervor. Even if he had to sharpen the stub of a pencil on the concrete floor of his cell he continued to write and influence our folk half a world away.

There is a huge emptiness in my heart upon hearing of Mr. Lane’s passing. I would like to honor the man with some words and share with you some memories so you can know how this man lived, that he passed this way and made an impression on our hearts.

The night we heard of his passing, about 40 guys stood in our grove and honored him with a moment of silence. As my mind raced with memories of the man, my gaze fixed upon a bird of prey soaring above the farm fields nearby. All these little black birds were flying up to nip at his tails feathers trying to chase it off. I thought to myself; what a perfect metaphor. David Lane was like this raptor, soaring into the heavens; and all these frightened little birds, who could not understand him or his nature, pecked at his behind in an attempt to drive him away.

I remember David told me he was raised in the rural town of Aurora CO. He was born in a cabin there surrounded by fields of grain with the majestic Rocky Mountains silhouetted on the horizon. As he spoke of it, I envisioned this pastoral setting were hardy, ham fisted yeomen hung out at the seed and feed store drinking black coffee, and talking about how the weather is going to affect the crops of the season.

Once, when David and I were passing through Denver, he decided since we were nearby, we’d detour so he could show me his birthplace. I recall David seeming as if he had lost his way. There were blocks and blocks of urban development, brand new condos and shopping centers. Suddenly, the area where he grew up became unfamiliar to him. Where once there were fields of ripened grain - now there was a concrete jungle filled with foreign faces. As we turned into the neighborhood of trash filled streets littered with broken bottles and dirty diapers in the gutters, gang graffiti marked the buildings and Hispanic youths sat on street corners acting tough. We slowed to a stop, and David stared at the home of his youth. I saw tears welling up in his eyes. The windows of this small house were boarded up, and graffiti marred the building. A large construction sign in front of the house indicated that the property was soon to be converted into a soccer field. Already some young Hispanics were kicking soccer balls in a dried up field behind the house. As I looked back, I realize this may have been a watershed moment serving to further enflame the passion and commitment of David Lane.

I truly lament the fact that David had to die in prison - away from his family, friends and loved ones. This man deserved better. Just as it was with the home of his birth, some official probably had a trash can set up outside the door of the cell were he died. He probably tossed most of David’s belongings into the trash, erasing the final traces that a great man passed that way. With any luck, a few items will be boxed up and sent to a family member or close friend. Little does this government employee know that the man whose property he is emptying into the trash was a hero of our folk who ranked with the titans of our people in North America; Robert Miles, Pastor Butler, Dr Pierce and Robert J Mathews. They can go ahead and throw away his treasured belongings. What he lacked in worldly goods, he definitely made up for in the richness of the legacy that he left behind. I think of the scene from “The 13th Warrior” when the chieftain of the Viking Warrior band is dying and he laments he has no worldly possessions worthy of a king, but if a person were to tell his story he would be a rich man indeed. I can assure you, that David Lane is a very rich man because we will tell his story to our children and grandchildren.

I suspect the powers - that - be now feel a sense of justification if not relief in their attempts to muzzle and stifle this man who remained a bastion of opposition until his passing. Regardless of the obstacles placed in front of him through restrictive incarceration, David had remained a beacon of integrity, passion and character who has inspired our folk throughout the world, and will continue to do so in the immortality of his words and teachings - many of which have become tenents of our creed.

In memoriam to my friend David Lane, I ask only that those of us who grieve not dishonor his life or passing by disregarding his commitment to the cause by forgetting the mettle of this man and the sacrifice he made both before and after his incarceration. What I personally will carry within my heart until my end days is the undying love that David held for his people, and the fact that despite efforts to discount and debase that love it remained true and constant even as he drew his dying breath. Remember, if nothing else, David Lane lived and died for the struggle to secure the future existence for us and our children, I can think of no more appropriate words then those of the Havamal..

Cattle Die, Kinsmen Die, Every man is Mortal.
One thing I know that never DIES is the fame of a Dead Mans Deeds
We will Never Forget

Bruder Schweigen
Richard Kemp