Mama was a Preacher Chapter Ten The Pendulum Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved.
I think the piano is one of the most logical and fool proof musical instruments. You hit a key, and that's the note you get. With almost all other instruments, including your voice, you need a sense of pitch. But on the piano you get what you expect. There is a flip side to that though, in that doing something different requires a greater knowledge of the instrument
and what it can do. Of course this is hind sight, because at the age of 17, and not having a musical education, singing came natural; piano did not. Trying to relate the placement of notes on a sheet of music was difficult. Sure I could see where middle C was on the sheet, and I knew which
key on the piano was middle C. But coordinating the two required many hours of practice before it would become second nature.
At first, Jackie tried to bring Sunshine into our vocal group, but after the initial attempt he said, "You are the first boy that I have ever heard sing a song from beginning to end, and never once hit the correct note."
We had been traveling for close to a month doing sermon/song-fests in Florida. Every time we were ready to set up the tent the Count would arrive. He was always by himself, and he never made reference to the five other members of his gang.
Sometimes I would laugh to myself at the vision of our bus whose sign heralded Tent Revivals and God, being followed by The Hell's Angels. I'm sure the Virginia Beach Christian Coalition would have deemed it appropriate.
Even though I looked at that scene with a sense of humor, in reality I knew that we were headed for trouble when we set up camp in Virginia Beach. They hadn't liked the competition when we were just getting started, and now that we had major stature through our recordings and being on The Old Time Revival Hour, we posed a greater threat.
During those weeks in early August I had begun to get a handle on the use of "the Thing". It really was a matter of rhythm, and sensing the "mass response" of the audience. Each time we got to the final "Songfest" day the concentration of repeat visitors reached the 90 percent level. True resonance was easily accomplished. It really didn't make much difference what the subject matter was, as long as everything was predictable. Find the time period, kick the pendulum at the right time. Never let it get out of control. Following this pattern you build unbelievable levels of emotional interaction.
It went beyond the mental, extending into the physical. A lot of the physical feeling was similar to hyperventilation, yet the mind seemed to be sharper. Once resonance had been established attitude could be easily directed as long as that direction was subtle and taken in small steps.
Surprises were OK to get initial attention, but after that there could be no surprises if resonance was to build or to be sustained.
We had gone as far south as we intended, and had begun to head north again. Sunshine was the first to notice that the Count had switched from beer to club soda.
It was during our week in Jacksonville that I asked the Count about the rest of his gang, suggesting that they might find some value in our meetings.
He laughed and laughed, "They've been attending services for the last three weeks."
At the Counts suggestion they had shed their leathers, and tried to blend into the audience. The camouflage had been successful until then. But once I had been alerted to their presence it was easy to pick them out; hair was a bit shabbier; complexion more rugged, more sun and wind burned.
They parked their bikes in front of a bar several blocks away. During the rest of our itinerary Ho, and Sunshine grew quite close to the bikers.
The attraction of bikes, leather clothes, and that transient way of life escaped me. One afternoon everyone was away from our site except for the Count and myself. One of his group rode into our lot. The boy driving the cycle was in his mid twenties. He was about my size. His name was Spider.
I had seen him in our audience wearing conventional garb. In his biker outfit he appeared quite different.
They contended that their clothing did more than change their appearance, it affected their personalities.
I expressed doubts, and Spider suggested that I try on his outfit and see for myself.
Spider and I entered the Capitol bus, and undressed.
There they were, leather jeans! Laying on the couch. I raised them to my face and lasciviously sniffed the intoxicating smell. The leather smell was now slightly mixed with the smell of Spider's sweat.
Slowly I put the leather jeans down on the sofa. There was the biker's jacket. He also had short engineer's boots for his riding. Both of those would fit fine.
I sat on the couch and pulled the leather jeans over my legs noting the way they gently squeezed my thighs. Then I stood up. The tight leather jeans did something odd to me. I felt torrid. Even though Spider was just a few feet away sitting in a chair my cock began getting fully hard. How was I going to get the fly closed? In an attempt I pressed my cock painfully up to my belly and slightly over to the left. Then I gave a cautious tug on the zipper, mindful not to catch pubes or cock in the teeth. I had decided not to wear underwear with these leather jeans figuring that even that little extra would increase the tightness.
Both my cock and balls started to ache gently. I waited a minute, decided that it felt good anyway and tugged the leather jeans over my hips. I could button the top pretty easily if I sucked in. But the zipper was a different story.
My cock was even harder than it had been before and the crotch brought my balls up where the pressure of the leather jeans bore directly on them. When I had finally closed the zipper I could feel the pressure on my balls and cock shift as I moved. If I tensed one ass cheeks, the pressure increased. If I tensed both of them, I could easily imagine passing out from the pressure. I slowly took a few steps and grimaced at the mixture of pain and pleasure shooting from my crotch. I walked around a bit faster, noting that the leather already had some give and the walking was becoming more of a pure pleasure.
"O.K." I thought. "Boots are next." They also turned out to be a challenge.
They had to be pulled on with a serious tug. But getting my hands down to my feet cramped my balls in this leather armor. After another bout of pleasure - pain, the boots were on and the leather jeans neatly pulled down over the uppers. I stood up. I felt slightly dizzy from the sex heat and the constant pressure on my balls. The feeling was one of sensual excitement.
"Now the jacket." Spider's biker jacket was an expensive, genuine horsehide one with all the right zippers and studs. The waist seemed a bit loose; probably because of the constraining leather jeans. I pulled the zipper up to my naval.
I walked over to a mirror and turned on a light. I stared. The hot leather dude in the mirror had a bitchin' chest. The leathers caressed the buffed thighs and calves of a real stud. The leather jeans showed my cock in bas - relief. Could it possibly be that big and hard? I slowly turned sideways peering at the obscene bulge of my dick and the huge, firm mounds of my black - leather - encased bubble - butt in profile.
I turned further, trying to see the whole of my ass encased in the tight leather. I could see that each cheek was molded into the leather that strained up into my ass crack. That was what was putting pressure on my balls. But try as I would, I could not get a good view of my butt in the leather jeans in a natural pose.
I had become oblivious of Spider's presence. I began moving around the bus. The walking caused more stimulation of my cock, balls and ass by the leather jeans. I was sweating. Finally I returned to the mirror.
Slowly I extended my hand back to caress my right cheek. Even the slightest touch on the leather covered buttocks shifted the pressure on my cock and balls. It was as if all my sex equipment was connected in parallel to an electrical substation. Electric flashes of pleasure zapped from my ass to my cock. Ignoring Spider I raised my right hand slightly and gave my ass a gentle slap. Waves of pleasure caressed my rampant dick as the leather jeans transmitted the motion. Then another slap. Then another.
The slaps got harder. My breathing grew uneven, panting along with the slaps. The sound of my leather covered ass being slapped added to my passion.
The sight in the mirror was mesmerizing. With little warning, my cock exploded. It pumped so many times that I lost count.
The orgasm was so intense that I barely had time to grasp at the sink before the involuntary twitches of ecstasy consumed me. Spider's leather jeans filled with steamy jism from a reserve that I had never tapped before. I staggered into the toilet and sat down before I blacked out. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed as I sat on the john in the leathers. Then came the laborious, and embarrassing task of cleaning the jeans and returning them to Spider.
When I handed them to their owner, he grinned at me and said, "So what do you think of leathers? Make a difference?"
"Yeah, Jekyll and Hyde," was my reply.
During the rest of August and early September the Counts group integrated into our congregation. Both they, and us consciously made it a point to see that the integration was with the congregation and not the ministerial contingent.
I was always embarrassed when I encountered Spider. My deviant behavior was too private to be shared with anyone but Cowboy.
I had been working on a real sermon, not a cantata. It centered on an important period of history starting about a year before the birth of Christ.
I wanted to bring home to the people that Jesus was a radical. Everything about him was extraordinary. I based my speech on the first Chapter of the book of Luke.
Like it or not, I was going to deviate from the strictly music format. Jackie had finally given in, as long as I didn't get into my definition of real love, and didn't do anything too extreme.
It happened in Macon, Georgia.
My approach was similar to the one that I had used in Memphis. But instead of using a game to garner the audience's attention, I used simple drama. I had moved to the front of the stage, and spoke in a clear, serious manner. "Friends, first I want each of you to close your eyes and relax, as though you were listening to the radio. I want each of you to transport yourselves back to the months just before the birth of Christ. Herod was the king of Judaea. He was a tyrant, whose rule was dependent upon the emperor of Rome."
"At that time there was a priest of the Jewish temple named Zacharias. His ancestors were from the Abia clan: and his wife was a daughter of Aaron; her name was Elizabeth. These were good people; both were righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless."
"They had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and they both were well advanced in age."
I moved back to the podium, leaning on it. "Zacharia's task in executing his duties as a priest was to tend to the burning of incense."
"You might not think that was an important job, but when you consider that we are talking about a desert community, where the temperatures often exceeded a hundred degrees, and when you add to that that the people were indoors, and they had no bath tubs or showers, and that they didn't bathe that frequently, then you must admit that incense was very important if anyone was to stand around and listen to the preacher." This brought a good laugh from the crowd.
"All of the congregation was milling around outside, while Zack got the incense going. I can just imagine the old gentleman, clad in his heavy robes, bending over the incense holders, attempting to light them. The light couldn't have been that bright, and I'm sure at his age he really couldn't see that well."
Then I said with more vigor, "All of a sudden there was an angel standing on the right side of the altar of incense. Now an angel is not something you expect to see every day. In fact, I suspect that the old man may have thought someone had spiked the incense with Loco Weed, or what ever they called grass in those days." Again a good laugh from the congregation.
I could feel a response from the audience. It wasn't sound. It was more like radiated energy.
I moved from behind the podium, and stood directly in front of it in a spot of light. My white suit reflected a somewhat bluish light. "The presence of the angel scared the hell out of Zack. But the angel said, 'Fear not, Zacharias: for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John."
"Apparently, the old man was still making love to his wife even in those advanced years. But despite their trying very hard, the old lady didn't get pregnant." Again a small laugh from out front.
In a much stronger voice, "The angel continued, 'Thou shalt have joy and gladness; and many shall rejoice at his birth. He shall be great in the sight of the Lord, and shall drink neither wine nor strong drink; and he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost, even from his mother's womb. And many of the children of Israel shall he turn to the Lord their God."
Again, I could feel a surge of power.
I moved back behind the podium. "I suspect Zack was still not convinced that he was not hallucinating. But the angel continued, 'He shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.' I guess Zacharia thought he'd better play along, just in case this was for real, and not some fantasy, so he said, 'How am I going to know this? for I am an old man, and my wife is well stricken in years."
"You would think that an angel would have patience, but apparently not that day, cause he told Zack, 'I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God; and am sent to speak unto thee, and to show thee these glad tidings."
"I guess Zack's face still showed disbelief, cause Gabriel apparently got real ticked off, and said, 'Thou shalt be dumb, and not able to speak, until the day that these things shall be performed, because thou believest not my words, which shall be fulfilled in their season." My fist came down on the pulpit so loud that a lady in the front row jumped.
I had kicked the pendulum.
"Outside of the temple the people waited for Zacharias, and wondered why he tarried so long in the temple."
"When Zack came out, he could not speak to them: and they perceived that he had seen a vision in the temple: for he beckoned unto them, and remained speechless."
"That was probably a pretty funny scene. The old man goes into the temple to get rid of the stink, and comes out, probably white as a sheet, trying to speak, and nothing comes out."
"After the services, Zacharia went home to his wife."
"The days became months, and Zack had all but forgotten his adventure, except for the daily reminder when he wanted something and couldn't ask for it. But he did continue his bedroom activities. After all there wasn't any TV in those days." A small snigger could be heard rippling across the tent.
"Eventually Elizabeth conceived. She had a hard time believing that she was pregnant, so she hid herself for five months pretty much saying that no one would believe that Zack had knocked her up." At first it was dead silence followed by a roar of laughter.
"Gabriel must have lost patience with men, because apparently God was going to do it again and sent the angel on another messenger journey. Only six months had passed since his encounter with Zack and the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary."
I could feel the audience thinking, and predicting what was coming next.
"This time Gabriel skipped the middle man and went directly to the lady, and said, 'Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.' His opening remark troubled her making her wonder what manner of salutation this be. 'Hi there.' would have been enough."
"Gabriel must have been in a better mood when he spoke to her than when he talked to Zack, because he said unto her, 'Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favor with God. Thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David: he shall reign over the house of Jacob forever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end."
Their prediction had come true. I had kicked the pendulum again. We could feel the energy level reverberate across the tent. It surged, and built, and surged some more.
My sermon continued covering Jesus's middle years, showing how radical he was. Showing how the powers that be were not yet ready for anything that new.
Looking out over the audience I could see a visual rhythm surface. The congregation would shout and sway. The sound and the movement synchronized. If your eyes were out of focus it would appear as a large mass of some sort surging back and forth; almost like stirring a large pot of hot soup. A little kick from me and you could see the effect propagate across the space. As the surges would reach their peak it would generate more shouting and swaying; it was almost like a self perpetuating metronome; it had rhythm; it had an energy source; it could be seen.
Finally, I passed the service to Jackie. He had been both attentive, and sensitive so that the music seemed a natural extension of the sermon. The joining of these two parts of our meeting was done with little sign of the melding. The music then became the timing piece of the resonance. No kicks of the pendulum were necessary. The concert master was now in control.
The Song-Fest on the last day of our stay in Macon was highly successful. The emotional level had reached a very high and yet contrived level. You could actually trace the surging through out the entire recording session. In my mind I had begun to get a handle on using this technique. It was getting less and less mysterious.
I felt confident as we headed toward Virginia Beach. Jackie and Robbie had been there a few days before, finding a suitable lot, and making arrangements
for live broadcasts on the Revival Ministry's station in Norfolk. There didn't seem to be the kind of a problem that had left such a bad taste in our mouths when Ray, mama, Ruth, and I had visited two years earlier.
We had pulled the ministry bus into the vacant lot. A temporary pole had already been equipped with both power and our broadcast telephone line.
We had left the Capitol bus parked on the road about a block away to give us the maximum amount of room to erect the tent.
Jackie had just marked out the layout placement for the poles and panels when we heard the welcome sound of six motorcycles. The Count's group was not afraid of hard work and had begun to give us a hand in setting up and tearing down our camp.
The Count and Spider had moved one of the central support poles to the spot Jackie had marked when two police cars drove into our lot.
A heavy set, rather sloppily dressed officer got out of the lead vehicle. "Who is in charge here?"
Jackie moved towards the man. "I am. What can I do for you officer."
"You can't put up your tent here."
Jackie reached into his shirt pocket for a sheaf of papers. "Sorry officer, but I think there has been a mistake because we have all of the necessary permits. In fact you will note that the power company has already installed power. And the radio station broadcast line is already in."
The cop seemed surprised, and definitely not pleased.
He looked around him and spotted the six bikers. "Those creeps with you?"
Jackie nodded yes, and added, "They help us with setting up."
The officer moved towards the Count and motioned the other three officers to join him. "Well, they ain't welcome in Virginia Beach. You scum bags are under arrest for vagrancy, and violation of our noise abatement ordinances."
As the cops loaded the Count and his group into cars, the police radio squawked, "Mr. Ensley wants to know if he should wait for your return." The ugly cop grabbed the dash mike, "Naw, we're just about done here. They got a permit. But they won't like staying in Virginia Beach."
I found it difficult to believe that a fight between kids at Cutler Academy in California would be held as a grudge between adults two years later. I also wondered how much of this problem was rooted in that fight between Ernest Ensley and me, and how much of it was the fear of competition from Little Rock.
The Virginia Beach gang had made a major mistake. Robbie immediately telephoned his dad in California, and Sid had the entire legal department on the matter within minutes of the Count's arrest.
The chief council for Capitol Records had made two telephone calls; the first to the American Civil Liberty Union attorney in Norfolk, Virginia, and the second to the attorney general of the United States in Washington DC.
Two federal marshals had been dispatched to the jail to take custody of the Count's people, with a John Doe warrant for any local officers that might interfere with the feds.
Once the group was released from jail, the marshals escorted them to our site, and suggested that they accept a federal escort to leave Virginia Beach.
And Sid milked the incident for everything that it was worth. The unconstitutional move by the local authorities in interfering with an out of town religious group, and that group being a well known gospel singing group was on the head line news nation wide.
What the Christian Coalition had thought would be a minor harassment that the local cops could handle turned out to be a major embarrassment.
We had set up the tent, connected the audio equipment to the telephone circuit, made a test with the radio station, and were ready for our first service by 7 o'clock. But no one came.
Sunshine had been in the control room listening to the radio, when he heard a local news broadcast warning people to avoid our area. There was a police blockade screening for drunk drivers.
Jackie and Robbie took a short walk. They returned with the report that no traffic was being allowed through to our services.
At 8:00 PM we were on the air. We had no audience, but we were able to sing. I took the microphone, and explained to the radio audience about the police interference, and quoted what I had heard squawked on the radio. Within 10 minutes from my announcement the telephone line to Norfolk mysteriously became inoperative and the power to our lot failed.
Robbie headed for a pay phone to call his dad, and was arrested less than a block from the tent.
The cops had not counted on the interest of the news media, because when Robbie was taken to the police station one of the reporters called California, and within 30 minutes the Feds were back, and the news headlines across the nation yelled, "Politics or Religion? Son of Capitol Records Executive Arrested in Virginia Beach."
Both the ACLU and Capitol Records hired a detective agency to uncover all of the details of the incident, and to keep it alive in the news media. Sid had said the longer the matter was in the news, the more records they would sell.
The cop had been correct, "But they won't like staying in Virginia Beach."
Jackie and I wanted to end the tour and return to Little Rock and California. Sid and Ray wanted us to stay. Ray felt we should fight the local group for political reasons. Sid wanted the incident to stay in the news as long as possible.
In as much as Capitol and The Revival Ministry were underwriting this tour we decided to stay. The next day the Virginia Beach city road department felt it necessary to block off both ends of our street for repairs.
"No Parking" signs suddenly appeared on all streets in our vicinity.
Despite Ray and Sid's wishes, we gave in. We had reasoned that trying to fight a political group on their own home ground was a loosing situation. The Virginia Beach gang was more political than religious, while Ray was absolutely non-political. The Christian Coalition was a political entity operating under the guise of being a religious group. Danny made an odd observation, "If the United States was founded on the principles of separation of Church and State, doesn't that make the Christian Coalition unamerican?"
A great depression over took our group. We had "had it." By unanimous agreement we decide to drive around the clock. Next stop Little Rock, in twenty two hours. We would drop the old bus, and the station wagon, then drive the Capitol bus 1700 miles west to Hollywood.
Once we had decided to leave our energy level returned, and even without the Count's gang we were packed up and ready to leave by dawn the following day.
Even though we had not slept in 24 hours we were eager to leave the dust of Virginia Beach behind us.
Jackie and Robbie lead the way in the old white school bus. Danny and Peter followed in the station wagon. The Capitol audio bus protected the rear with Jerry, Charlie, and me.
Jackie felt that the presence of the high profile Capitol bus in the rear might intimidate any eager beaver law enforcement officers who wanted to make points with the Virginia Beach gang.
Our departure did not go unnoticed as a squad car stayed a block behind us, following us all the way to the city limits.
It was eight-thirty when we passed through Elliott Knob, Virginia. Jackie spotted a Kettle Restaurant. We hadn't taken the time to eat since we had decided to leave, and our hunger had caught up with us. We followed Jackie into a large shopping center parking lot.
We proceeded into the restaurant. A heavy set, jovial lady in her mid forties seated the seven of us. "Coffee all around?"
We nodded affirmatively, and she proceeded to distribute cups, and silverware, while we looked over the menu.
Danny was facing a window beyond which you could see our vehicles. Two police squad cars had pulled up along side. The officers walked around the vehicles, and then headed toward the restaurant.
We didn't want another confrontation. We had driven 200 miles, but we were still in the state of Virginia.
The older of the two officers spoke to the woman at the cash register. She pointed toward our table. Then the officers started our way.
"You guys just hold your peace. We don't want any more problems than we already have." Jackie turned toward the approaching officer.
"Are you the fella's we've been hearing about on the radio?"
Jackie nodded that we were.
"Well, we just want you to know that you are welcome here in Elliott Knob. If there is anything we can do just let me know. My name is Rolly." He turned toward the other officer. "And this is Hank."
The officers turned and started to leave, but the younger one, stopped and asked, "Which one of you is brother Johnny?"
I told him that I was.
"I love that song you do. You know the one about Little Brother singing."
"You mean Daddy Sang Bass?"
"Yeah that's the one. I just love it."
I looked at the others, silently asking if we should trying singing it without accompaniment. I didn't get a negative so I started. "Well, Hank this is just for you and your Elliott Knob hospitality."
Jerry and I joined, "Daddy sang bass, Mama sang tenor, me and little brother would join right in there; Singing seems to help a troubled soul."
Danny, Jackie, and Robbie, then joined us, "One of these days and it won't be long, I'll rejoin them in a song; I'm gonna join the family circle at the throne. So, the circle wont be broken."
"Bye and bye, Lord, bye and Bye. Daddy'll sing bass, Mama'll sing tenor, me and little brother will join right in there in the sky, Lord in the sky."
The two officers were beaming from ear to ear.
Rolly and Hank got into their police cars and left.
The waitress returned to take our orders.
We had cleaned our plates like we were starving. The girl had neglected to leave our check, and we had lost more than an hour.
Jackie walked over to the cashier, "The food was really great. Could we have our check please?"
A heavyset man in an apron came out from the kitchen. "No charge folks. We don't get many celebrities in here, and we appreciate your visitin'. What I would like is a picture of you folks that I can hang on the wall."
We didn't have any pictures, but there was a jacket from our Capitol Album. Jackie sent Sunshine out to the bus to retrieve it, then added, "Bring the record too."
We all signed the jacket. Our host brought out a camera and took a picture of us seated at our table.
Our spirits were soaring. We left Elliott Knob having been reborn into a world populated by human beings.
Sixteen hours later we pulled into the Old Time Revival Hour compound in Little Rock. It was one in the morning.
Ray came into the parking lot dressed in a night shirt. "You boys look tired. You go to bed, and we'll talk in the morning."
Jackie and Robbie were the first to join us in the Capitol bus. Shortly Danny and Peter came in. We were so tired that we slept on the bare bus floor which was still warm from having driven 16 hours.
We hadn't planned on staying in Little Rock more than a few hours. We were all anxious to get back to California and back to our normal lives.
At nine the next morning mama was rapping on our door. "Breakfast is ready. Anyone hungry?"
Even though we had slept in our traveling clothes and hadn't showered in 36 hours, we followed her into her mobile home. Ruth and Ray were already there.
"We've got pancakes, biscuits, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Help yourselves." Ray was already eating a biscuit on which he had put a spoonful of strawberry
jam.
During the next hour we told him the details of our encounter with the Christian Coalition. I have never seen Ray angry, but during our debriefing he was close to it.
"Johnny, we want to expand our broadcast commitments. We would like to add two programs; a ministry directed specifically to teenagers, and a musical ministry patterned after the song fests. Do you feel up to recording a half hour radio broadcast every week?"
I liked the idea, but my plans were not firm. I hadn't even talked with Jackie or Cowboy about what I wanted to do. "Well, I don't know. Virginia Beach really hit me hard. I need to know more about religion. Not just Christianity, but all of the religions in the world. I want to continue my studies with Rabbi Solomon, and maybe go to Bible college and get ordained."
My intentions took everyone by surprise.
"I thought we were all going to broadcast school at Don Martin," was Cowboy's reaction.
"What Bible school do you have in mind?" Ray asked.
"The one at Angelus Temple. LIFE." I don't know were that idea had come from, it had just popped into my mind and out of my mouth.
"You mean Aimee McPherson's Angelus Temple?" Ray was surprised. "Well if there ever was a charismatic preacher, she was it. You know she was an Assemblies of God minister before she started her own church. I'd heard that the Assemblies tried to tame her, and that's why she broke away from them."
Jackie spoke up, "Well, I see some problems. First Johnny, you haven't even finished High School. Second, where is the money going to come from? And finally, it will break up our group."
"No it won't break up our group." Deep down inside of myself I knew that Cowboy wouldn't want to attend Bible college, any more than he would want to study under Rabbi Solomon. "You guys will be studying at Don Martin, I'll be at LIFE. We'll still be living together. We'll have nights and weekends together. We will start each day together. And as far as the money is concerned I'll try for a scholarship, but maybe Sid will let me have the money he was going to contribute for my tuition at Don Martin. Ray, if I agree to do that weekly teen ministry broadcast for you, do you think you could pick up any difference? For the matter of not having finished High School, I can't see where a couple of years at Cutler would teach me much. I'm going to ask LIFE to let me try; kind of on probation. If I can do the work they should let me continue."
I was glad that I hadn't the opportunity of thinking this over, as my being separated from Jerry would have turned me away from this course of action.
"Well, you settle into what ever routine you are going to, then we'll get the teen ministry underway. But I'd like to get that scheduled no later than the first of the year." Ray turned to Jackie, "Can I rely on you to help with the musical ministry?"
The trip from Little Rock to Los Angeles took almost 30 hours, and was a total boar. With six of us taking turns driving we were in the middle of our third two-hour stint at the wheel when we pulled up in front of our house
on Dorrington Avenue in West Hollywood.
From time to time, during the drive, we discussed what we were going to do upon our arrival in Los Angeles. One thing for certain, the house on Dorrington was too small for our growing family. Even without Todd and David there were six of us and there were only two bedrooms. If we added our house sitters to the group that would make eight.
Then there was the matter of money. No, it wasn't so much a matter of money as it was a matter of doing something productive. The income from Capitol was small but consistent. We suspected that once the new album was released that income would increase. Robbie suggested that the record company might be willing to make an advance if we wanted to buy a piece of property, and then there was still a small part of the Las Vegas winnings left. Jackie had stashed that away in a bank.
Robbie also felt, as did most of us, that we should derive some kind of income from the Revival Ministries use of our recordings.
I suggested that I simply include a free will offering solicitation in the middle and at the end of each of my teen sermons to help support our ministry for teens.
On Monday, I needed to talk to the people at LIFE Bible college. David was still enrolled at Cutler Academy, Jerry, Jackie, Danny and Peter were enrolled at the Don Martin School of Radio & Television Arts and Science. Todd was working in the mail room at Capitol Records. This left only Charlie. We joked around about Sunshine being mother and housekeeper, and in fact that is pretty much the roll he assumed.
Robbie hadn't seen his parents in over two and a half months, so most of his time was spent in Beverly Hills.
However, the rest of us started looking for a new house. Peter, the practical
one, bought a newspaper, and we looked through the real estate section comparing locations on a map. After more than an hour of comparing we jumped into Jackie's car to take a look.
The first house, was located just a few blocks from where we currently lived and was too small and too expensive.
The second house was in Laurel Canyon, not too far from where David's aunt lived. The house was nice. The environment was more like being in the mountains rather than being in Los Angeles. However, public transportation would be difficult. Nothing was within walking distance.
The third house was "it". It was located closer into Hollywood than was our current home. In fact, it would be possible to walk to the Don Martin School.
The structure had been built in the 1930's. It was a 2 story wooden building that contained a full (although unfinished) basement. The top floor had four bedrooms and two baths. The first floor had a good sized kitchen, living
room, dinning room, den, and half bath.
There was a long front porch that extended the width of the house. The front yard was small, but contained a large oak tree. On the right and to the rear of the lot was a small detached garage.
The location was perfect; two blocks south of Santa Monica Boulevard between Romaine and Willoughby. Eight blocks to the east was the Goldwyn Studios.
We walked up to Santa Monica Boulevard to a pay phone and called the telephone number in the ad.
The real estate agent agreed to meet us at the house in one hour. We took a right and walked down to an odd looking eatery called OKI DAWGS. It was a greasy looking place. The small building which housed the stove, serving counter and cash register was enclosed by an outdoor garden. It was roofed, but three sides would have been open to the street expect for the trellises and vines.
The tables customers sat at were large, rough, and painted yellow.
The most unique thing about it were the customers: all young, all street kids, I guessed all hustlers. Two of the tables had been pushed together with eight kids sitting there. In the center was a large piece of newspaper upon which had been dumped a ton of French fries. One of the boys recognized Danny and waved at him. Danny got up from our table and walked over to the boy. They talked for a minute then Danny went up to the window and ordered a large order of fries and a coke. The coke was huge, enough for
all of us if we passed it around as were the boys at the other table. Shortly a tall skinny guy came out of the building and handed us a bag full of fries.
The boy from the other table started talking to Danny, wondering where he had been during the past year. The two obviously knew each other very well as they started talking about shared adventures and tricks.
We hadn't finished half of the fries when it was time for us to leave. As we exited the garden I saw Danny's friend grab our left over fries adding them to the pile on their table, then one of the others grabbed our coke.
The real estate agent was a real pansy; about as effeminate as I have ever seen. But what surprised me was that he recognized Danny, and acted very familiar. I suspected that in the past he had been a customer.
However, Jackie quickly took charge. The house was old, and not well taken care of. There was litter on the floors. Someone had broken in and had slept there. The down stairs toilet has been used, and not flushed. It's contents was a brown, slushy mess.
Upstairs was better. Whoever had taken sanctuary in the building had not proceeded to the second floor.
The entire building required cleaning and painting. But, the floor plan would suit us. It was spacious with a lot of potential. And the location couldn't have been better.
The asking price was $25,000.00 but the agent said the sellers would probably
take less. The owners lived in Ohio and had been bequeathed the property by a grand parent. We could also rent the house if we needed immediate occupancy.
We made an offer of $19,000, gave the agent an earnest money check in the amount of $500.00. $250 of the $500 would be first months rent if the offer was not accepted. Occupancy would be immediate.
The agent gave us a receipt, and the key, then departed.
If we all pitched in, we probably could have the house ready to move into within a week.
We returned to Dorrington to pickup cleaning stuff; brooms, mops, buckets, soap, steel wool, Windex, and rags.
As we were loading these things into the back of the car Robbie drove up in a brand new Austin Healey. "How do you like my new buggy?"
We gathered around the new green sports car. He popped the hood and we peered into the engine compartment. "So what was wrong with the MG?" I asked.
"Dad just wanted me to know how happy he was that I was home." Robbie lowered the hood.
We told him about the new house. He was eager to see it.
We had returned to the kitchen, when Robbie said to me, "You got ten bucks on you?"
I reached into my pocket, and pulled out two dollars. "Nope"
"Jerry how much have you got?"
Jerry pulled out $3.00.
"Gawd you guys are poorer than church mice." He looked over at Jackie, "Hey Boss man give these kids $5.00."
Jackie handed the money to Jerry. Robbie grabbed my $2.00 and the eight from Jerry. "You guys just bought yourselves an MG."
I was astonished, as was Jerry. Robbie threw his arms around both of us, hugging us tightly to his chest. "I love you guys."
He turned towards Jackie and handed him the five dollars. "Here's the five I borrowed from you in Memphis. Come on, we've got to pickup the MG at the Austin Healey dealer on Sunset." Again he addressed Jackie, "we'll meet you at the new house."
We worked into the wee early hours of Monday morning, sweeping, and scrubbing. Jerry and I drove to the old house in our new MG, while the others
collapsed on the floor of the new property.
At nine o'clock we were awakened by Jackie and Sunshine entering the back door. They wanted to take apart the bed in which we were sleeping.
I needed to talk to the registration office of LIFE. So we dressed, and Jerry drove me to Angelus Temple. I had no idea how long I might be there so he returned to the new house. I'd return on the city bus.
The Bible college was in a building adjacent to the tabernacle. Unlike Angelus Temple this building was just rectangular. The only thing striking about it was that it was large.
A sign pointed to the registrars office. A sloppily dressed, woman whose red hair was obviously dyed handed me a stack of forms and pointed at a student desk chair.
After reviewing the forms I had returned to her, she went into an office at the rear of the room.
The man to whom she had handed my forms, also looked them over, picked up the telephone and talked from quite a long time. He put down the telephone and leafed through a stack of old newspapers on an adjacent table. He examined a newspaper, then looked at me, then referred to my forms. He picked up the phone and talked for another minute.
A buzzer sounded on the red heads desk. She returned to the back office, then proceeded toward me. "Are you the Johnny that is part of the Old Time Revival Ministry?"
I nodded my head yes.
She returned to the back office, then again came back to speak with me. She was carrying the forms that I had filled out.
"Dr. McPherson would like to speak with you. His office is in the building next to the park." She handed me the forms.
"Who is Dr. McPherson?" I asked.
"The son of the founder."
I exited the LIFE building and walked along the front of Angelus Temple. At the end was a book store, and beyond that was a two story building that appeared more like a large house, but built within a few feet of the building. On the second floor there was a walkway that joined the two buildings. I realized that that was the way Sister Aimee gained access to the auditorium and the top of the ramp which led to the stage.
I turned left along Echo Park Drive looking for the entrance which was tucked back between the two buildings but on the eastern side.
A sharp looking woman in her early forties was seated behind an 18th century antique French desk. She smiled at me as I entered the foyer, "Dr. McPherson is waiting for you. Through those doors."
Aside from the Desk which was an antique, and the receptionist who was not, the decor was 1920's art deco. Beyond the doors was a large room which could have been a living room at sometime in the past. On the far side was a fire place. Extending to both the left and right of the hearth were bookshelves reaching from floor to ceiling. At the end was a large wooden desk, upon which sat a telephone, a desk blotter, and a calendar. Otherwise the surface was devoid of any indication of work in progress.
Behind the desk was a man who was a little too heavy for his height. His hair was light in color. I couldn't tell if the gray mixed with a reddish blonde, or if it was an odd shade of gray.
"John. Welcome. Make yourself comfortable." He pointed to a heavy overstuffed chair directly in front of the desk.
"I'm pleasantly surprised to see that you want to continue your education with us. And before we get into that, I want you to know how much I have enjoyed the album that Capitol Records released last year. I hear there is another in the works?"
I nodded yes, "We've just returned from a 2 1/2 month tour of the south and east coast. Capitol is creating a new album from tapes we recorded, but I don't know much more than that."
He had pleasant brown eyes which expressed real interest. "Yes, we've seen the news reports of the tour." His eyes turned sad, "I was deeply distressed by what happened to you folks. But even the most dedicated Christians make mistakes, and when they get involved in politics then... "
He didn't finish the sentence. "You know John our backgrounds are a lot alike. Both of our mothers were preachers. I was quite young when mine took to the road. Our first services were in Canada. I hardly remember them, I was very young. Tell me about your early years."
I told him about the backwoods church in Crabtree, and our joining up with Reverend Gregory. When I told him about my interest in music, and Jackie becoming my mentor, he interrupted.
"You were lucky. Preaching is a full time job with little time for family or children." He turned his chair around, facing a window. His reflection looked like he wiped a tear from his eye before he turned back to face me.
I continued talking about the first revival tour. From time to time he would interrupt me. "John there is something more that you haven't told me. There is something about you that reminds me of my mother."
That was the trigger, and I unloaded on him. I told him of my first visit to Angelus Temple and the eerie feeling that I had when I looked out at the empty auditorium. I told him of the song fest and the continued image of the woman in white. It was a highly emotional outburst. At the end he picked up the telephone, dialed four digits, then spoke softly. "Harold, I'm sending John back to you." He paused a long time, and then even more softly said "I think mother sent him."