Mama Was a Preacher

Mama was a Preacher Chapter Five "One-Two-Three" Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved.

We could hear Sister Ruth's voice intermingled with Jackie's piano. The lyrics were something Jackie and I had composed to go with a Jimmy Davis song:

"Oh Lord I know why, I'm feeling so sad, I long for something I've never had, never had you in my heart, but even the oceans you can part. Hold me in the safety of your arms."

My eyes looked into Jerry's, the message became a love song. Softly I sang, "I've heard it said that the thrill of my soul can be a heavenly dream, I go to bed with a pray'r that you open my heart till your love does beam."

I don't know how long we stood there, our bodies pressed tightly together, breathing each others breath, feeling the pounding of each others heart. Reluctantly we parted, not wanting to give up that close sharing of each others body. Then, giving into our hearts demand, we again joined in a second sampling of one another's presence.

"As I said, I wanna stay forever. Do you think the Gregorys would let me stick around?"

"I don't know what's going to happen next. I know we are not holding meetings in Little Rock cause we haven't done any advance promotion."

"Well, what do you think is gonna happen?"

"Mama and Ray have been talkin about doing strictly radio broadcasts. In the past six months we have added 12 new stations that carry our programs."

"You mean they aren't gonna do any more revivals?"

"Mama says all we are doing is trading the tent for a broadcasting studio. When we are on the road we preach to just a few hundred. On the radio we reach out to thousands."

"Guess they won't need no help in movin' the tent." He paused, sadness spreading across his face, "I'd hoped they'd need some extra help."

I smiled at him, "We'll talk to Jackie. He can pretty much get his way with mama and the Gregorys. Man, on man, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

"Every time I heard you sing on the radio, it made me want to get out on the road and find you." He moved over to a chair and sat down. "I even called the radio station when I was down in Clinton, but they said the best they could do was take a message.

"So tell me about what's been happenin' to you. Goin' from city to city must be exciting."

"I have to be very careful with what I do. I can't get close to anyone my own age. People who hear you on the radio think they know you, and get awful friendly."

"So what's wrong with that. I bet you get more pussy than anyone I know."

"It's awful lonely. Remember what Jackie told us that time when we were driving to Crabtree? Well, he was right. Those friendly folks can turn on you."

I told him about Mary-Lou, and Joe.

Two months earlier Jerry had his first girl. She was the waitress down in Clinton that his brother Todd was screwing. Todd had taken him into Clinton for Jerry's birthday. The two brothers got it on with her; it was his birthday present. "And you should see the size of Todd's dick just before he shoots. Must be a good 8 inches. AND he squirts mor'n you and I put together."

"How'd you get to see that?"

"Well, I had just finished fucking her. Todd had fucked her first. But I guess watching me hump away at her must have got him turned on cause after I'd pulled out he was stiff again and ready to go. I'd hardly rolled off of her when he was back in there. But this time just before he shot he pulled out and made this big puddle in the middle of her stomach. Watching him got me up again, so after he had pulled out I slammed back into her. Todd's cum got all over my stomach as I shoved in and out, but that even made it better."

"Sounds like your first time was better than mine."

"I don't know about that. From what you told me about Mary-Lou, and ignore her big mouth, that first time was more like making love. Mine was just a fuck."

"We'd better go back to the meeting. I've already missed two solo's. Hey why don't you come up front with me, and we'll sing together. Just like old times."

"Haven't got anything to wear. These overalls the only thing I got."

I looked in my closet. None of my things were big enough. Jackie's clothes were too short. "Take the top of those overalls down, and tuck them inside."

The tops made the already too tight bottoms bulge. "Naw, that's not going to work. Put them back up." I reached into Jackie's things and pulled out a shirt someone had given him. He never wore it as it was too big.

We added a jacket, but that wouldn't work either. His overalls would have to do.

There were no empty seats when we returned, so bibs or not, Jerry had to sit on the platform.

The congregation was standing, singing "Stand Up, Stand up for Jesus." The number was moderate tempo. Jerry's voice had changed; while it still was able to reach the same high notes as before, his bass register had lowered noticeably. This offered a new frontier for our working with each others voice.

We could not take our eyes off of each other as our voice intermingled into a single entity.

After the number Jackie said, "John you'd better help your mother. Jerry, you sit on the end of the piano bench next to me. I like what you are doing with the bass notes." Then almost in a whisper he added, "You kids stop staring at each other. Get hold of your selves."

My face turned red. Jerry sat next to Jackie on the far end, away from the audience. Regaining my composure I joined mama. Jackie was right. Both Jerry and I were going to have to play like we were nothing more than best friends. It was going to be rough. We couldn't afford to let anyone guess the depth of our feelings.

During the rest of the service we unsuccessfully ignored each others presence. Our voices remained a union; a constant reminder of what had been, and what was yet in our future.

Each minute seemed like an hour, except for those moments we shared in song. Finally the eternity had passed. The service was over. The lingering people had gone home. There was just Jackie, Jerry, and myself in the tent.

We were all three seated on the piano bench. "It's great having you two together again. We're going to make some great sounds."

We had our arms around Jackie's waist. It looked like we were trying to keep from sliding off of our seats, but that was not what was happening. There was a warm, emotional feeling coupling the trio. It was temperature, smell, sweat, the feel of each others pulse, memory of the best things in life, a knowledge that "come what may" we were a team that strove to become one.

"Tomorrow is going to be a big one. At day break we will be dismantling the tent. Then we visit the churches for the 'Thank You' collections."

"Yeah, I know. But what are we going to do in Little Rock?" I asked.

"Ray said we'd park next to KLRA. Sometime Monday we are supposed to have a major conference about what's happening next."

I voiced my concern about Jerry.

"Don't worry about that. What ever happens it's going to be a major change, and we are going to need all the help we can get." Then Jackie added, "You kids better sleep out here tonight. Just turn out the lights. John, you need to get your comforter."

We left Jerry sitting on the bench.

As we walked toward the trailer Jackie put his arm around my shoulders squeezing me to him. "You kids have a lot to cover tonight, so why don't you find a spot under the platform for your blanket."

"Jackie, you have no idea how happy I am."

"Oh yes I do. And that's a real problem. Anyone looking at the two of you know how happy you are. You guys get this out of your system tonight, even if it means your dicks fall off. Beginning tomorrow you must become the worlds greatest actors." We walked a little further, and stopped. "I have a feeling that as the three of us become a team, the sexual aspect of your relationship will be submerged in a facade of work and performance."

I looked at my mentor. "Can our kind of love be a threesome?"

"I love both of you kids, and not just platonically. Love does not exclude people. Even your kind of love ... ", he paused, "Even our kind of love."

Jerry was still sitting on the piano bench when I returned. "Jackie suggested we find a spot under the platform.

We walked around to the back. There seemed to be about two and a half feet of clearance. I tossed the comforter underneath.

Jerry was already on his knees, and had rolled under. "Wait a second till I get our spot smoothed out."

The flooring was supported on vertical two by fours placed every three feet. The bed was narrow, but we didn't intend to need even that amount of room. He had already started to remove his overalls, as I slid in next to him.

I began to remove my shirt, but before the second button had been released I found myself pressed to the ground, his lips pressed against mine. "Jackie said we needed to get this out of our systems." I sniggered, "Even if our dicks fall off."

His tongue was in my ear. I wanted his bare flesh to be pressed against mine. "Wait a minute let me get naked."

Our fingers became our eyes in the blackness of the night. We looked at every inch of the others body. His smile was a pleasant, moist curvature under my fingertips. His chin extended along the jaw to his ear. My tongue touched the lobe, and then the canal.

His penis was pressed between our bodies. "God I love you," I whispered. His fingers were looking at the back of my neck, then explored the length of my spine. Chills of anticipation ran the length of my body.

"I've wanted to taste you again, and again. Once was not enough." His fingers moved between us, touching the length of my member. "It has grown." His head moved downward. His lips caressed the waiting head. "Oh! how it has grown."

My fingers were massaging his head. Precum was freely flowing. That magnificent odor that I had first detected in Crabtree was present, was enticing me to sample its flavor.

A soft moaning of pleasure purred from my throat as I pulled the loving shaft into my mouth. I pressed into him wanting all of him, wanting my body to totally absorb his, wanting us to meld into just one person. Stealing what I had learned from that hateful Joe, I moved my body so my neck was a straight line with my mouth and swallowed him fully into my throat. A momentary gagging feeling passed. His cock was laying full length down my throat. It pulsed. I swallowed. It pulsed again.

I withdrew in order to gasp a lung full of air, then resubmerged his member so completely that I could feel his balls resting upon my chin.

My own cock was absorbing his attentive ministration. That tickling feeling had long since passed. My cock wanted to expel its fluid, but I valiantly fought to restrain it.

Jerry cock was fully buried in my throat. It pulsed, I swallowed, it pulsed again. Then the plane launched into the sky. My control was gone, my cum shot its way out of my body. His, simultaneously found it's way down my throat. I immediately slipped his cock free of my throat, wanting to savor his taste, but there appeared to be none left to titillate my palate.

We lay there, locked in each others arms, penises resting on the others face.

I turned around, so that we were now pressed face to face. I could smell my cum on his breath, and presumed he could smell mine on his. His tongue licked my lips, then penetrated into my oral chamber whence his beautiful cock had just been released. We sampled our own cum from the others mouth.

Sleep was not on the horizon. Our fingers continued to look at the love object that had been absent for so long.

My heart wanted to continue even though my dick was not yet ready to play.

As a substitute we shared the others heart beat and warmth. My tongue licked his salty perspiration, and only momentarily resisted an impulse to nibble on the nipple of his breast.

Eventually the sandman intruded upon our ecstasy, allowing our subconscious to continue where our bodies had failed.

We embraced the entire night, and were awakened by the first sounds of the Gregorys moving about in their bus. Our cocks had recovered, and were again at attention, demanding our recognition.

Time had run out. Our hearts were overflowing with love. We must become the most talented of thespians, and just in a matter of seconds.

Unwillingly we dressed.

"You boys sleep well?" The Reverend Gregory had entered the tent.

"Like a log," I lied.

"Reverend, I came to help out, not just to visit. So just tell me what I can do."

Ray looked at Jerry with a gentle, fatherly expression. "I know you did son. Remember last year I invited you back. You and young John have a special talent for doing the Lord's work. He brought you back to us. You are here because he wants you here. There is much work to be done in his name."

"And Jackie didn't even have to talk with him," I whispered.

"You boys go get your breakfast. We need to start disassembling the tent right away. Then, John you and Jerry team up for the church visits. We'll have 5 teams for the collections, you and Jerry, your mama, Jackie, Sister Ruth, and myself."

We had just barely finished our pancakes when the piano movers arrived to take away the rental.

It took less than two hours to take the tent down, and get everything packed away.

It was difficult not to look at Jerry. I could occasionally feel his eyes on me. Yet I knew Jackie was only too right. There was no way we could hide our feelings. That was a talent we needed yet to develop; and we could not do it alone.

Sunday was a difficult day. We visited the churches sitting as far from one another as possible.

Our voices joined in a union that our eyes were forbidden to share.

Love was a mixed cup of which to partake. Our hearts were overflowing with what we felt for each other. Yet, our fellow man demanded of us, the impossible ... "Show not thy love lest ye be smitten by the hand of God."

How can one's cup runith over, yet burn the hand that holds it?

What pitiful law holds our love apart, while those of separate gender are drawn closer together?

As we sang, "All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful: the Lord God made them all," the words rang true. I knew, in my heart, that God does not make mistakes. We were who and what we were because God made us that way. It was then that I began to realize that if God was right, then the rest of the world was wrong. That harmful things were done by his children falsely proclaiming that it is being done in his name.

"Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings, God made their glowing colors and made their tiny wings. All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small. God made them all."

Eventually Sunday came to an end. Sunday night was just an extension of Sunday day. Jackie, Jerry, and I all slept together in the same bed, crowding us together. Mama was in the next room. After an hour of just laying there cramped between my two friends, I decided sleep was not for me.

When I went outside I was surprised to see Brother Gregory sitting on the running board of Jackie's model "A". "Young John. Too excited to sleep?"

I nodded.

"Tomorrow is going to be a big day full of choices to be made in the name of God. But, there are several things I know we are going to do, and one of them is going to be a project for Jerry, Jackie, and you."

"Does that mean Jerry's going to be with us permanently?" My heart leapt at the prospect.

"If it is God's will, and I believe it is." He moved so that I could join him on the running board. "Our ministry is changing. We have learned much in the last year. The miracle of radio has provided a pathway where by we can reach many thousands. We are going to build a radio broadcasting empire over which the Lord Jesus will rule."

"How can we help?"

Ray put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. "First, we are going to need to build a broadcasting studio. The good Lord has provided the funds to do that. All of us are going to have to become builders and technicians under Harry Wiser's supervision. Then I want Jackie to record an album of gospel music with you, and Jerry."

The old man pulled me even tighter. "John, I saw what the good Lord did with you when you were anointed with the Holy Spirit. And I've seen you try to rekindle his presence. You are so young, and yet so filled with talent. You need a proper education, and so does Jerry. Tomorrow I am going to ask Jackie to try and find a school were you can learn the ways of God. A school which will prepare you for his service. There is so much to learn, and so little time."

We continued to talk until the morning sun shed light on the night, heralding the approaching dawn

I returned to the trailer and quietly slipped into the bedroom. Jerry and Jackie were sleeping soundly in one another's arms. I raised the sheet to slip in alongside of them and noticed they were naked. I curled up around them, with Jerry in the middle. My hand touched Jackie's hard cock, then grasped it. It responded with a pulse. Jerry's hand moved and replaced mine. I let mine drop between the two, now holding his.

"Hey. We gotta get up. Ray wants to be in Little Rock before noon." My two best friends, stirred and gave me a sheepish grin. I slipped under the sheets and kissed both of their pecker heads. "No time for lollygagging."

"You boys up already?" It was Mama's voice. "The Gregorys will be here for breakfast in just a couple of minutes. Then it's off to Little Rock."

Jackie and Jerry were in the process of pulling their shorts over their hard dicks. I grinned at them, while rubbing one index finger over the other miming "shame-shame on you."

We were parked in the vacant lot along side of KLRA by eleven o'clock. Josh Hay had found an old warehouse that he thought would be an ideal location for the new studios, and was eager that we look at it. Ray, on the other hand wanted more details on how the studios were going to be used, and what equipment we would need to acquire.

Harry Wiser (Junior), had some literature on a new kind of recorder, manufactured by a company called "Brush". This gadget did not use disks. Instead, the sound was recorded as a magnetic field on a length of plastic tape coated with a magnetic layer. The quality was better than the disks. A 1200 foot reel would hold a 15 minute recording. Unlike the disks, the tape could be played over and over again without wearing out. While the tape was more expensive than the disks, the sound could be erased and the tape reused.

The new ministry was to do over the radio what we had done when traveling the revival circuit. Both Mother and Ray would have their own half hour radio program. Mama's was to be Bible study. Ray's would be hell fire and brimstone preaching.

Music was to be an important part of both programs. Jackie, Jerry, and I were to record a half hour of song to be used on the air as well as offered as incentives to those supporting our work.

To accomplish this goal we would need a recording studio, sound equipment, a piano, and a Hammond Electric Organ. Harry and Steven began to sketch what they thought would be a minimum floor plan.

The final drawing which pleased everyone had two studios separated by a control room, a study office for both Mama and Ray separated by a reference library, a workshop, mail room, and general office.

The equipment list was ultra modern: A Gates audio console, two 16" record players, two 16" Presto disk recorders, a Brush tape recorder, an automatic electric typewriter, the Hammond organ, and a Kimball baby grand piano.

Again Josh Hay prompted us to look at the site he had picked. It was a large warehouse five miles north of the city. It had three things going for it. It was in a quiet area. It had three times more space than we needed. The asking price was far below what we had expected.

We could build the studios inside of the building, and still have room left over for the bus, and our trailer.

During the next month we bolted down two by fours to the concrete floor, framed the walls, mounted sheet rock and Celetex, installed fluorescent lights, and hooked up the equipment.

But first, we built a small bunk room on the far side of the building where Jerry, Jackie and I were to live.

The Wisers contributed a giant bed which they had in storage. Our bunk room consisted of just one bunk, but it was large enough for five people.

The warehouse had a toilet adjacent to where we built our room, so we tore down the old walls, building a new bath room which included a shower.

During the construction Ray and mama recorded their programs at KLRA between sign-off and six AM.

The Hammond organ arrived earlier than expected, so we began rehearsing our song list. All of the songs by which we were already identified were included: "Daddy Sang Bass", "Softly and Tenderly" (a Cappella duet), "Heaven came down", "All things bright and beautiful".

We discovered the first time we used the Brush Recorder that even with the organ, the vocals were too thin. Of course the a Cappella song was meant to be thin, but the others needed more voices. We asked Steven and young Harry if they would be willing to practice with us. Steven suggested that his brother Peter also be included.

Peter's voice was surprisingly low, not a bass, but close to it. Steven and Harry were both baritones. The three of them provided a rich, full range, vocal back up.

Interestingly the members of our group were also "best friends". Peter had declared his friendship both that time in the early hours of the morning at the Hay's farm, and later in his confrontation with Mary-Lou. Steven and Harry both knew about the incident with her, and felt strongly enough about me not to rib me about it. Jackie had a deep feeling for both Jerry and me. Yes, this was a very tight group.

The more we sang together, the more one could sense that aura of fondness. The mutual affection enhanced the quality of our music.

The six of us used every spare moment to rehearse. Ray had asked Jackie to look into the cost of "pressing records", for sale and distribution.

It was close to eight-thirty on a Friday evening. Steven and Harry were laying cable for an extra microphone between the control room and one of the studios. Jackie was studying a new stack of song sheets he had received in the mail. Jerry had gone to use the toilet, but had not returned. Peter and I started looking for him. As we approached the door to the bathroom we could see it was dark, but there was light coming from under the door to our room.

We opened the door and went in. I heard a gasp from Peter, I looked in the direction he was staring. There was Jerry, laying stark naked, face up on the bed. Mary-Lou was seated, nakedly, on Jerry's cock, jumping up and down.

Jerry just smiled when he saw us. Mary-Lou didn't miss a stroke. Peter caught a bone that almost ripped a hole in his jeans, and I sat down in a chair not knowing what to do next. My rod would have liked to join the orgy.

Just then the door opened. Jackie started to say something "Hey guy ...". His voice faltered. His mouth dropped open. His face turned red.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Mary-Lou jumped off of the bed, hurriedly trying to cover herself. Jerry just laid there with an enormous, red, wet, hard cock, the grin still on his face. He then proceeded to pull on his jeans.

"I presume you are Mary-Lou." Jackie's voice while soft and quiet was none the less venomous. "You will dress yourself and get out of here immediately. And if I ever see you around here again, I'll have you arrested for lewd vagrancy."

The girl, dressed, carrying her boots she rushed out of the door colliding with Reverend Gregory.

Ray looked in, "What's going on here." He was talking to Jackie. "Problems?"

Jackie replied, "Just boy stuff. Nothing I can't handle."

Ray turned and left.

He turned to me. "John I can't believe it. After the hell you went through because of that girl, plus what happened in Memphis. Are you out of your mind. Do you care so little about your future and what we are building here that you would risk it for a piece of ass?"

Jerry jumped in, "John and Peter had come in less than a minute before you did."

"Well, that's a relief. But what do you think would have happened if it had been Ray that came through that door instead of John?"

"Peter, the situation is different for you than it is for John and Jerry. Getting laid is and should be high on your list of priorities. But anyone growing up in the public eye is faced with a far different problem. The public expects a far higher standard of living. Your developing sex life is normal, and expected to be as it is. But John and Jerry can't live a normal life."

Jackie turned to face me and Jerry. "This brings up something that I have wanted to talk to you about for the last few days. You remember my friend in California, the one who is dean of boys?"

I nodded that I did.

"His school is a Christian boarding school, dedicated to prepare youngster for a future as ministers. If some of the names in the student body indicate its quality it is a very good school. The Cheseboroughs whose family packages Vaseline, the Kerr's whose family makes canning jars, and the Champions whose family manufactures spark plugs, are just a few of many enrolled. It is expensive. But, it also has 100 percent scholarships for those children whose parents are ministers, evangelists, or missionaries."

I looked at Jerry, he had the same sad expression on his face that he did when I had told him we were no longer going to be using the revival tent.

Jackie must have caught the expression. "If we get this album on the air I think they'll include both of you. Anyway I'm going to talk to your mama, and Ray. What I'd like to do is take a trip to California next month, and we'll talk to my friend Don MacMillan."

Jerry was on the verge of tears as Jackie closed the door. "Gawd I almost fucked thing up royally, didn't I."

"Well from what I could see you were doing one hell of a good job with Mary-Lou. Maybe now that I'm singing with you guys she'll give me some of that hot snatch." Peter's cock was tenting his pants, his hand rubbing its length as he spoke.

Jerry and I both got boners just watching Peter.

"Why don't you guys stay over at our place tonight? I'll swap rooms with Jimbo, and we can have the loft."

"No. I'd like to but what just happened isn't over yet. Jackie would raise all kind of hell if we did that."

Peter nodded in acceptance of the truth. "Well maybe tomorrow night. I'm going to find Steve. We'd better be heading home."

I walked with him towards the studio. Reverend Gregory was leaning against the open front door. "Young John! Gotta minute?"

I joined Ray as Peter disappeared into the recording area.

"Let take a short walk. The night is really pleasant."

The moon was half hidden behind a layer of clouds, its beams softened into a mist of light.

"You know John the Devil is a wily creature; probably the only mistake the good Lord ever made. He delights in setting traps for God's children. It takes our constant awareness to avoid those traps. But if we have been out foxed, we must then fall back on one of God's greatest gifts, and that is will power. Will power is like a muscle; the more you use it the stronger it gets. And just like a muscle, if you don't use it, it will wither away and die."

Ray put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tightly against him. "You know both Sister Ruth and I care about you like you were our own child. In the past year we have seen you grow in body and in spirit. We have witnessed the hand of God on you in Macon. There is no doubt in our minds that God has given you the talent to become one of his most productive servants. This thing tonight with Mary-Lou is nothing to be ashamed of, although it could have brought down great harm on both you and our ministry. You were too young to know what to do. Jerry succumbed to temptation, as I would probably have at his age. You know Johnny I dropped out of school when I was just 13. I made many mistakes before I was called by the good Lord, and even some afterward."

"There are two ways to learn. Being taught by others, and by making mistakes. Believe me when I tell you being taught by others is far less pain ful than trial and error."

"Your Mama, Jackie and I have talked about these problems for quite a while, and we've all decided that you should be in school. Now this is where the good Lord has stepped in and again shown that his hand is upon you. We are going to send you to a high school in California. They will teach you music, languages, Bible, and many other things which God's messengers need."

"But, we also need you here. Again God has given us a way. The studios should be finished next week. For the next month I want you boys to spend all of your time rehearsing and recording an entire library of gospel music on that new fangled tape recorder. While you are in school we can weave those songs into our broadcasts."

Ray paused for a moment, then continued, "Harry Wiser suggested we choose ten songs from the library, and have them pressed into records to be given to those good people who contribute to our work. So if this comes to pass Jackie will need to find us a manufacturer in California."

Finally, he stopped long enough for me to respond, "You mean I'm going to live there? Mama isn't going to be with me?"

"You won't be alone. Jerry will be with you, and Jackie is going to enroll at UCLA, and that's less than ten miles from your school."

We had walked down that dirt road, turned and returned, all within 20 minutes, and within that 20 minutes my life had been totally, and completely altered.

Harry, Steve and Peter were still hammering away, putting the final touches on the new studio when Jerry, Jackie and I started putting together our song list.

We had visited the local public library and found tons of disorganized music sheets. Music publishers had sent them. The librarian hadn't ordered them, but didn't want to throw them away. We could take what ever we wanted.

At first we started to divide the music by type; Gospel, and none Gospel. But I kept finding sheets that were not Gospel whose melody was in line with our tastes. I began setting them aside. Soon the other two did like wise. Surprisingly the none gospel stack that struck our fancy was growing faster than the hymns.

Hawaiian music was the richest resource, followed by cowboy, and New Orleans style Jazz.

Jackie commented that the jazz shouldn't be much of a surprise as that was where a lot of today's gospel singers started. Black churches and jazz were closely related.

The idea of writing our own lyrics to none gospel songs wasn't anything new as we had been doing that frequently during the past year. However, we had had a few complaints from composers that had heard their songs with gospel lyrics being played on the radio as part of our broadcasts. Since there was no money involved, the composers couldn't expect much in the way of royalties so they just let it slide. However, if we were going to produce an album, and have it pressed for distribution, we would need to first get clearances. Most composers were members of ASCAP, and ASCAP had a pretty mechanical system for the granting of licenses, and payment of royalties ... but that was for the commercial performance of their music. Jackie expected a lot of flak from ASCAP when we started to release recordings whose lyrics were our own.

Jackie had been studying the recordings we had made on the road. He said he didn't really know what he was looking for. Mostly some kind of a pattern or rhythm that led toward that special interaction between audience and performer. He had been creating charts, even while we had been on the road, looking for something that was different.

After the umpteenth time of examining his charts he said he had an idea. He noticed something different, yet that difference seemed to always be present when the good Reverend began touching people, and when the congregation had merged into the performance. The difference was quite subtle.

It was a pattern. One, two, three. In song it would be a ballad, followed by a higher tempo song, then still a higher tempo song. Each threesome was also put together as a one, two, three.

The "one-two-three" also was present in Ray's sermons, but in a slightly different form. Three statements in a row. The first every one disagreed with. The second everyone disagreed with. One and two "telegraphed three". And three was an expected truism that everyone agreed with.

Jackie felt the secret was the fulfillment of an expected, but unstated idea.

The rhythm was the secret.

By allowing them to expect, and then partake of fulfillment bound everyone together. Start with small expectations and fulfillments, and work toward the ultimate. That last level should have formed everyone, performer and audience, into a single homogeneous, resonant entity. That was the elusive tool. Learning to use it would require a lot of time, a lot of trial and error.

He was going to test his theory in the way the new album was to be constructed. If he was right it would be the hottest music album on the market. If he was wrong, the album would still fulfill its purpose; a gift promoting support of our radio ministry.

The secret was not shared with Mama or Ray. "We don't want egg on our face," was Jackie's quote for the day. "Besides Ray doesn't agree about there being a tool."

Most albums were close to thirty minutes in length. Most songs were about three minutes in length. Therefore most albums had ten songs, five on each side.

Our song list was going to be twelve songs, two full "One-Two-Three" patterns on each side

Most albums had their hottest recordings on the "A" side. Our finale would be the last song on the "B" side.

By the end of the first week our recording sessions were pretty pitiful. Technically they were good, but there was something lacking. We asked Mama and the Gregorys to sit in on some of our recording sessions, and see if they could spot what was missing.

We already knew that if we didn't have fun singing, the songs wouldn't be fun to listen to. And we were having fun, as we played to each other, our voices, challenging, then blending in harmony and counterpoint.

Almost instantly, Ray knew what was wrong. The major part of the equation was missing. There was no audience. The audience contributed the energy. We were driving on an empty tank.

During our second week of rehearsals Ray had decided to break out the tent. We would set it up in the lot next to KLRA, and instead of having a revival meeting we would have a gospel songfest. He wanted to broadcast it live, as well as record the entire happening.

There would be no preaching. The fest would start Saturday afternoon, break for a pot luck dinner, and continue until everyone knew it was over.

Somewhere in the fest our album, as outlined, would be embedded.

Jackie's assemblage of the "1-2-3" was going to start at a lower level, building for the pace he was looking for in the album. He stressed that it was critical that everyone in the tent, audience, and performers participate. Some people took longer than others to get into the swing of the music.

Another theory he had was that the songs should be familiar to everyone. People wouldn't participate as completely if they were surprised by something they had not heard. Of course that eliminated all of the new material that we had worked so hard on. It eliminated all of those new lyrics to the ASCAP songs.

Jerry suggested, that in as much as we were splitting the fest into two sections broken by the pot luck dinner, that we use the new material at the very beginning. Then, after the break, we would start again with older songs, building toward the finale; our album. The new material wouldn't be new any more. We would have the building materials to put the "1-2-3" theory to a test.

Everyone was very excited as the second week drew to a close.

Early Friday morning we trucked the tent to KLRA, and by two o'clock it had been assembled, hoisted, and secured. Moving the Hammond and the baby grand piano would require a moving van. Jackie wanted to rent a piano instead of moving our own. The rental company would deliver it.

Harry asked mama to move our trailer behind the tent, so it could be used as a control room.

Saturday morning Steve and Harry moved the Gates audio console into the trailer along with the Brush recorder. We owned six microphones, and we borrowed two from KLRA.

They strung a rope so that a microphone could be suspended high above the audience. There was a microphone at the piano. Three more on stands for Harry, Steve, and Peter. Two Hand Helds for Jerry and me.

Jackie had visited the piano store and picked a small upright that had a somewhat clanging or tinny sound. The owner of the piano shop's daughter was a semi-professional photographer and offered to spend all of Saturday taking pictures. Hopefully some of them could be used as a cover for our album as well as promotional give aways.

The event had not been publicized beyond a few spots on KLRA, so the tent was less than half full when we started.

We were broadcasting the fest. It wasn't long before all seats were occupied. As with our revival meetings, automobiles began to park in our lot, the occupants watching and listening to their radios.

At the beginning we performed a mixture of the new songs with the older, better known hymns. We rigidly adhered to the "1-2-3" pattern. The first was a moderate tempo new song, followed by a higher tempo new song, finishing with a high tempo old song. As we moved into the last half hour before the dinner break, we knew things were happening. You could feel it. Everyone was having fun.

The reverend Fullers "Old Time Gospel Hour" filled the KLRA air waves during the pot luck.

Jerry, Jackie and the others had already left the tent. My balls were itching, so I hung back to adjust my under shorts.

I left the tent, heading for the food line.

"Johnny!" A girls voice called out. I looked around. It was Mary-Lou. Accompanying her was a tall, heavy set man. His dark hair was freshly cut. He wore gray slacks, and a sport shirt. "John, I want you to meet my father."

He extended his hand. I shook it. The grasp was solid, almost to the hurting point. "Glad to meet you. Sure enjoyed your singing young man. You've got talent."

I said "Thanks," wondering about this strange new event in the Mary-Lou adventure. "I don't think I have seen you at our services. Of course you are welcome."

"We are Catholics, so we didn't attend your revival meetings. But the song fest doesn't have sermons, so we thought we'd share the fun." The big man glanced beyond me toward the food. "We didn't bring any food, so I guess we shouldn't eat."

I assured him that no one was keeping count, so they should just go ahead and enjoy themselves.

"Daddy, you go ahead, I want to talk to Johnny for a minute."

Her intentions dismayed me. There were tears in her eyes. "Johnny, I am so sorry about what I have said, and what I have done. I would change if I could, but I like boys so much. I just can't stop myself."

She moved toward me, putting her cheek on my shoulder, her arms encircling me. My blood pressure increased. My face turned red. My dick got hard. Guilty I looked around me. I could see Jackie about fifty feet away from me. He started toward me. I motioned him to stay away.

"If I was saved, would God help me become a better person?"

I began to tell her the many things I had heard during our revival meetings with emphasis on the "Call for Sinners."

She stopped crying. We both got ourselves under control.

"Mary-Lou, if you really want to change, we can help you. But it is hard for all of us."

She glanced downward at my aroused member, and smiled. "I guess!".

"Tonight, after the fest, you stay behind and we'll talk."

Rapidly I walked away, joining Jackie, while Mary-Lou got in line with her father.

I explained this new turn of events to Jackie. He expressed great doubts about her sincerity. We both decided that I should seek Ray's advice.

Harry asked that we return to the tent. The "Gospel Hour" was almost over. The station would be taking us live in about ten minutes.

No one was seated in the tent when Jackie got the signal that we were on the air.

We opened, voices only, with "Ave Maria". It was a beautiful song, steeped in tradition, but about as low paced a piece of music as you could find.

People began to return to their seats, entering very quietly, almost reverently. The first few bars were just Jerry and me. Then very softly Steve, Harry, and Peter blended with ours, until at the ending it was no longer a duet with backup, it was a Cappella event.

We moved to "Church in the Wildwood" with a brilliant piano fanfare. Peter's rich baritone voice found depths that were almost bass. Jerry and I were bouncing off of one another, as the tempo built towards a statement of beauty, and tranquil happiness.

"Give me that old time Religion" was paced for level three.

The audience was with us. We regained the momentum that we had before the dinner break.

Back to level one with "Faith of our Fathers". Full harmony, soft piano.

Even in level one you could feel the energy coming from the people.

"He's got the whole world in his hands", was level two. Jerry and I had moved to the very edge of the platform. We sought out eye contact with individual people in the first two rows, seeking to make the contact personal.

"Jesus is Risen Today" was level three. Again, Jerry and I devoted our attention attempting to capture the audience. The energy level was still building.

Again, back to level one. Jackie led into "Beautiful Isle of Somewhere" with a modest frill, joined by Peter singing solo, and as deep as he could go. Steven and Harry, did the chorus as a duet, with an occasional assist from Peter. Jerry and I joined in the second verse, coaxing the audience to join.

Our old favorite "All Things Bright and Beautiful", started as a duet. In our practice, we started as a duet, but then we would challenge each other in solo's. This time we did it beckoning each side of the congregation to participate in the challenge. Things were moving very well. You could feel the excitement.

For level three we were doing a modified New Orleans jazz number which was woven into "When the Saint's go marching in."

The song started with a bang. Jerry and I leapt from the platform, microphones in hand, moving towards those people in the front rows that we had targeted earlier. On an upbeat I spun 180 degrees facing a man in his early thirties. My eyes met his. Within myself I was proclaiming, you and I shall be as one. His eyes held mine. The silent message had passed. "Yes we are one."

I moved further to the back. My voice was ringing out the lyrics, yet harmonizing with Jerry's. As the music pounded so did my body. As the cadence increased, my legs followed suit. My body had become resonant with the music, was becoming resonant with the audience. I could feel the power building. We were nearing the end of the song. It would be climatic. I spun around looking deeply into the eyes of the next person. My eyes focused, it was Mary-Lou. My arm reached toward her. My finger touched her forehead. I heard my voice say "Be gone". In that instant that momentary flash of light flooded my mind. All of the pent up energy seemed to jump from me to her. I looked at her. She had slumped down in her chair, her eyes closed, but fluttering, her limbs trembling.

I was drained of energy. I looked at Jerry opposite me in the other isle. His jaw had dropped, his mouth was open, he was staring at me. The energy began to flow back. I looked towards Jackie. He had a big grin on his face. My eyes swept across the platform. Mama and Brother Gregory were standing on the edge of the platform, hands held high, eyes close. I could hear shouts of "Blessed Jesus" coming from the crowd, coming from Mama.

I looked back at Mary-Lou. She had regained her composure. She looked at me in the strangest way. The expression was one of love, of trust, and yet of fear. I reached out, grabbing her hand, and lead her to the Altar. Mama, and Sister Ruth had joined Jerry and the others, hustling them out of the tent. In just a moment there were only three people; Mary-Lou, Ray, and myself.

She was sobbing "Oh God help me change my ways." Then addressing me, she continued, "Johnny how can I get his help?"

Ray had moved along side. "All you have to do is believe in him, confess your sins, and ask his forgiveness."

Mary-Lou continued to cry. Then, in the Catholic tradition, she began divulging her many conquests.

Ray said, "You don't need to confess to man, only to God."

Nevertheless she continued to described her sexual misdeeds. I knew my name would be forth coming. Ray had taken over.

As I started to leave Ray was adjusting himself. The Reverend Ray had caught a rod from Mary-Lou's youthful tale.

I left them. Each must deal with their own lustful thoughts, in their own way. A smile moved across my lips as I recalled her impish "I guess!"

Peter and Jerry met me as I exited the tent. Peter said something about it was just his luck she had gotten saved before he had gotten any pussy off of her.

It was pretty late. Mary-Lou had walked home alone. Ray joined us. Jerry, Jackie and I were to spend the night with the Hay's. The Gregorys would sleep in our room at the warehouse. Mama would sleep in the trailer next to the tent. Tomorrow morning we would move the tent back to the warehouse. The piano movers were to pick up the piano at eight-thirty.

We were heading back to the Hay's farm. Jackie was sitting up front. Peter, Jerry and I were sitting in the back of the truck. Somehow the token of our sexuality had appeared. Our comforter covered the three of us. Peter was in the middle.

Jerry asked, "What happened tonight. Was that the 'thing' you have talking about?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

"I thought you were just bull shitting me. But I felt it too. What is it?"

I had to admit that I didn't really know. That according to Ray it was the hand of God. That according to Jackie is was a tool we need to learn how to use.

Peter had put his hand on my knee. I covered his with mine. Then, he moved his hand so that it was covering mine, and squeezed it. "The three of us are going to sleep in the loft tonight. Jimbo will double up with Steve, and Jackie can have my room." His hand moved mine up his leg as he spoke, resting it on his exposed, hard rod. His hand moved to my fly, and began to massage my prick. I glanced toward him, and then further. Jerry had a smile on his lips that told me one thing: Peter was doing to Jerry what he was doing to me.

I was very tired. It was nice to be loved. It was nice to be in the arms of those who love you, who would protect you; people with whom there was only love and safety.

The wounds of Mary-Lou and Memphis were still there. But as Ray had said "To live is to learn. To learn is to live."