INTRODUCTION, 2015: On William Pierce’s 82nd birthday, I want to honor his memory by republishing this essay of my remembrances of him — which in my opinion, whatever it may be worth, is some of my best work. Since I wrote this piece just three short years ago, much has happened. The unworthy…

by Kevin Alfred Strom HIS FOOTPATH TO THE HEIGHTS is almost invisible now, overgrown with timothy grass and mountain laurel, tenanted by bees heavy with nectar and pollen instead of by a man heavy with the future. Morning after morning, for almost two decades, William Luther Pierce would take this…