Mama was a Preacher Chapter Thirteen-A of A/B/C The Yellow Brick Road. Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved.
Early Thursday morning I woke with a headache. The quantity and variety of wines from the night before had left me with a hangover.
Both Philip and Cowboy's legs were wrapped around me, and both had huge early morning pissers; but then so did I.
Not wanting to wake the others, I carefully untangled myself and slipped into the bathroom, deflated myself, and sought some kind of fruit or juice in the kitchen.
I found an orange in the refrigerator which I eagerly peeled and consumed. The cold sweet fruit had a magical effect, totally destroying the pains in my head.
We had tossed our clothes in a corner when we had first entered the building.
I sorted through them finding my own.
After dressing I found the gate transmitter and keys to the MG. Then I wrote a note telling the others that I was going for a long drive, and that I was uncertain when I would return.
As I started to leave I noticed that the boys had moved, and were now cuddled up with Cowboy's front to Philip's back.
I closed the door, got into the MG, started the engine, pushed the button on the gate transmitter, and proceeded back along the dirt road to Mission Lake.
Turning right I headed west until I intersected Indian Road, then turned left heading south toward Palm Springs.
The sun had not as yet cleared the mountains, but had painted the cumulus clouds with pastel shades of gold and silver.
Already the air was turning warm. I pulled into a gasoline station. While the attendant was filling my tank, I unfastened the latches on the top, and lowered it.
The old man was now attending to the windshield. I asked if he had a map of the area. He pointed to a stack just inside of his building, and told me to help myself; they were free.
The highway south was clear of traffic. I passed a sign which read "Cathedral City 10 Miles."
For no particular reason I turned right on to a narrow paved road, it might take me up into the foot hills, or maybe, even the mountains.
The macadam eroded away into small patches of dirt. Eventually there was only dirt. It did not seem to be well traveled; weeds down the middle attested to that probability.
I turned the MG onto an even less marked trail. The vehicle bounced along as I avoided large pot holes, only to find myself propelled upwards by small mounds hiding lesser depressions.
After fifteen minutes of crawling along this dirt road I found myself on the top of a large hill which overlooked this desert valley.
The traumatic events of the previous weekend would not leave me alone.
Eventually my mind worked it's way through that mire, and exorcised my arrest and the Los Angeles County Jail.
Sid Cohen had been right: I had been a real idiot during the past year. I don't know how many times Jackie had told me that you cannot destroy peoples belief systems without paying a heavy price in retribution. Yet, that is exactly what I had done.
There was little doubt in my mind that the work we were doing with the teenage runaways was successful if measured in terms of the help we were giving. Ho, and Philip were good examples of that. Also the progress we had made in discovery was self evident.
I don't know how long I sat there contemplating the present and the future. It was a growl from my stomach that brought me back to reality.
Without conscious effort I had made several decisions:
First, we would discontinue our radio broadcasts, at least for the time being.
Second, we needed to document our discoveries on cyclic behavior and resonance.
We needed to research historical religious documents. It seemed unlikely that we were the first humans to make these discoveries.
We needed to write our own "Book of Mormon", supporting and gaining support from existing theology. There was only one point that I knew would be a major stumbling block. We could never agree with the philosophy that love was gender specific.
In today's modern world we could not allude to a "Nephi" as being the source of our writings. Even if the presence to the woman in white was a reality, few would believe it. We could not even hope to be successful if we based our philosophy on mystics. No, our work would have to be written like a law book and based on provable facts.
It was mid afternoon when I drove back into our compound.
The boys were sunning themselves alongside of the pool. Glistening drops of water on their bare butts told me they had just gotten out of the water.
"Phil I am starving, what have we got to eat?"
The boy looked at me as though I were out of my mind. "All we've got are a few pieces of melon left over from yesterday."
"Then let's get out of here." I said enthusiastically. "I want to go back to L.A. I've got a lot of work to do before services on Sunday. We can grab a bite in town."
Jerry asked rhetorically, "You want to go back already? We've got this place till Sunday; even longer if we want it."
"After yesterday, anything else would be a let down. Besides I've got a lot to do."
Philip was looking dejected as though I had stomped on his gift to us.
"Philip, you have no idea how much good you have done for me. Yesterday was a unique adventure that few people have had an opportunity to experience. You succeeded in doing what you intended to, and I am ready to get back to work." I embraced the two boys, holding them tightly.
Jerry said, "I've asked Philip to move in with us."
"Of course." And I kissed them, first Jerry, then a longer lingering full mouth kiss on Phil.
It took more than two hours to restore the house to where it had been before our arrival. There seemed to be pieces of food in strange places. The pool filter was clogged with chunks of Hungarian Goulash. I suspect if a chemical analysis were done it would have shown equal quantities of sperm.
Despite the delay we were parked in our own driveway by seven PM. Ho and Stack were the only ones at home. I announced that I wanted a meeting with everyone as soon as possible. In the meantime I needed to retire to my study; I had a lot to do.
First, I telephoned rabbi Solomon and made an appointment to meet with him Friday afternoon. Sid Cohen was next. Even though he was not a member of our congregation I asked him to be at the meeting. He assured me he would be there even if it were on short notice. The last call was to the manager at KPFK alerting him to the fact that this coming Sunday would be our last broadcast.
It was almost midnight when everyone had straggled in. The ten of us tried to squeeze into the tiny study. Instead we decided to meet upstairs in the living room.
Jerry (Cowboy), Philip, Jackie (The Boss), and Charlie (Sunshine) were seated on our couch.
Danny (Ho), and Peter (Stack) were doubled up in a large overstuffed chair.
David, Todd, and Robbie (Jew Boy) were seated cross legged on the floor.
This left Sid Cohen sitting on a kitchen chair next to his son.
I told everyone the decisions that I had made during my visit on the mountain.
Everyone, except Sid seemed dismayed to learn that Sunday would be our last broadcast on KPFK.
We needed to reorganize our work. Distinct lines needed to be drawn between each effort. The categories would be the Church, writing and research, and our work with the hustlers in Hollywood. I asked Sunshine to be the assistant
pastor, warning him that he would be conducting services most of the time. Robbie Cohen together with an assist from David and Todd would coordinate the research and writing activities. Danny, Philip and Peter would
spearhead the work with teens. Jerry, Jackie, and myself would work with each of the groups. Jackie would be in charge of the business side of our efforts, Jerry and I would work closely with all three teams.
We were going to need separate areas for each activity. Business would be conducted out of our house. We needed a separate facility for the teen mission; preferably something that would provide a gathering area as well as an emergency crash pad.
Sunday, during our last broadcast I would make a call for help in these areas. Many of our congregation were writers and lawyers.
Our church was founded as a democratic organization. Even so, I had made a dictatorial judgment as to what we were going to do next. This unilateral decision was uncharacteristic of my behavior and that of our ministry.
If our behavior had led us to where we were last weekend, then it was obvious that leadership was required. Committees cannot lead. True democracies can never reach a maximized objective.
I had assigned Ho the task of finding a location for the Teen Mission. He and Peter's immediate response was what are we going to use for money. Mine was, "Don't worry about it, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Robbie's only question was where were he and his group going to work. My response was "You haven't got a group yet. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Sunshine (Charlie), always the con-artist was, nevertheless, dismayed. "Johnny, I don't know if I'm up to being a preacher."
My response was, "You've got Jackie and our music to fall back on. You are not afraid to speak to a large group. You have used good sense and creativity
in working with our people. You already know everyone in our congregation better than I do. Besides, I'm not going to leave you high and dry."
My appointment with rabbi Solomon was set for two o'clock in the afternoon. Fridays were usually pretty busy days for the man. Saturday was the Sabbath, so Fridays were usually spent preparing for his work in the Temple.
"Johnny, nice to see you." He stood as I entered his small, cluttered office. "Did you like the concordance that Sid got for you?"
He wore simple gray trousers, a "necktie" shirt open at the collar, and gray horn rimmed, thick lensed spectacles. His gray hair was in disarray as though he had been massaging his scalp while studying the volume which laid open on his desk.
"Yes sir. I haven't had a chance to use it as yet. But tonight and tomorrow I need to prepare for our Sunday services."
Smiling he commented, "You gentiles are a strange lot. The Old Testament isn't enough so you add the New. The seventh day is Saturday, but you change it to Sunday. With all the kinds of meat in the world, you eat pork." He motioned me to sit in the chair directly in front of his desk.
I told him of our change of direction: About the separation of our three activities, and more specifically about our wish to establish a historical research society whose purpose was to generate a library of historical references in support of all of the worlds religions.
His eyes gleamed, a smile stretched across his face. "I wondered how long it would take you to realize that would be your ultimate goal."
Oh what an example. I had been lead through the wilderness not realizing I even had a guide.
He reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk and withdrew a file folder. Large black letters written by hand simply said "John". He handed me the folder. "There is a list of names of people who you should contact."
I opened the file. There were a dozen or so sheets, all written by hand. The top page listed names, area of expertise, address, phone number, and a note on the best way to convince these people they should become part of our projects.
The stature of the people on the list astonished me: Heads of ancient history departments from major universities across the world, Archeologists from major museums; Paleographist at the Vatican Museum in Rome, Paris, Israel, and the Smithsonian.
"You need to give your group stature. Organize them into a unaffiliated foundation with no vested interest in any religious group. Start by getting as many of those people on your board of directors as you can."
"Board of Directors?" I didn't say it, but I began to realize the enormity of my intent.
"Have you thought about whose going to coordinate this work? I realize you are going to have to assume the responsibility for what's done, but you need someone else to actually do most of the work." The rabbi had obviously put a lot of thought into this project. I wondered how many years ago he realized that this was where my interest in the Torah would take me.
"Robbie Cohen."
"Sid Cohen's son?"
"Yes."
"He's so young." He paused, still smiling, "But then so are you. Oh, the years go by. Where do they go? There is so little time. There is so much to do." Again he paused, then continued, "Robbie is a good choice. I'll send a note over to Sid on the legal steps that need to be taken to set up a foundation."
The rabbi's actions propelled the project along. I was being carried along by the inertia. As I drove home I began to understand what just this one small part of our plan entailed. I didn't have the heart to warn Robbie of the responsibilities that I had heaped upon his shoulders.
As soon as I walked in the house, Danny and Peter tackled me. "We need to talk. What kind of a place are we looking for? Why can't we just use the Church for the Teen Mission?"
I took the first step in delegating responsibility by dodging the questions. "You guy's know what we want to do. You tell me what we need. Just remember this is a full time project. And that's also part of the reason you can't use the church. Don't forget we want an emergency crash pad. That's also going to mean someone always in attendance. Also, I would think you would want to create teams to go out and work the streets. Get to know the newest kids to find themselves on the streets. Become friends, not authority figures."
The boys looked a bit irked, but eventually left me alone to start preparing for Sundays services.
I had just finished creating the outline for the sermon. Jerry popped in.
"Hey Cowboy, come here."
He walked over to me, and sat on the corner of my desk. "Just wanted to remind you that I love you." He bent over and kissed my forehead.
I reached over and patted the outline of his soft penis which laid along his left leg. "Don't tell me you're horny again."
My hand was still laying on top of the stiffening organ. Within seconds it responded to my love taps. Cowboy stood up, his instrument now bulging in an attempt to be noticed. "No! I just wanted to let you know that I love you." He smiled, reached down into his jeans, and pulled his erect member so that it laid vertically. "How late are you going to work?"
"I had planned on keeping at it till I was done, but you just changed my mind."
"I! Changed YOUR mind?" Cowboy moved away from me.
"See if you can find Jackie, and tell him I want to end Sundays broadcast with a mini-concert."
Cowboy had reached the stairs when I added. "I've made another decision that I haven't told the others about. From now on our time together will be very high priority. We'll be in bed before midnight. Always!"
He turned toward me, leaned over the railing, patted his cock, and said, "Yeah, but we ain't gonna get no sleep."
My first impulse was to grab his hand and drag him up the stairs to our bedroom. But there was too much that needed to be done, and it needed to be finished by midnight.
Fulfilling each item in an outline is both tiring and time consuming. I must have fallen asleep. I felt a hand on my shoulder gently awakening me. It was Philip. "Hey Johnny, you might as well go upstairs and get some sleep. Sleeping on your desk isn't that restful."
I looked at my watch. It read 1:30 AM. On the first night I had broken my promise.
Philip preceded me up the stairs. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. See you in the morning."
I walked into our bedroom. Cowboy was asleep. He was laying on his back. He was totally naked, except for his hat which covered his crotch. As I looked at the hat which was covering the wrong head, it bounced.
I carefully laid down by his side, and gently removed the hat, tossing it on to the night stand. His only response was to turn on his side toward the edge of the bed. I turned with him, putting my arms around him. He snuggled his lovely butt against my pubes, and I returned to the land of Morpheus.
Saturday started with a bounce. Sunshine stuck his head in our room at 6:30. "You guys had better get your lazy butts out of bed. Breakfast will be on the table in 15 minutes."
The announcement startled both of us. My arms were still embracing Cowboy in the exact same position as when we had fallen asleep. The only thing different was that someone had pulled a blanket over us.
"When did you get to bed? I must of fallen asleep." He turned toward me, so that our pisser's were in a dueling position.
"So did I. Phil woke me at one thirty."
Cowboy raised himself slightly, peering over my shoulder, "So where is he?"
"He slept on the couch."
"A lot of good that did us. He might just as well have slept in here."
I saw little of our gang that day. Ho had popped in to let me know that everyone would be at the church. Jackie was taking this opportunity to create something particularly nice. During the past year music had become less and less a part of our services as we devoted our time to searching out the "truth" in our continuing discoveries about the universe.
My goal was the Sunday sermon. Being the last broadcast on KPFK I needed to cover a lot of material.
The other projects kept getting in the way. The enormity of the research foundation frightened me. The need for a building for the mission intimidate
me. The fact that we didn't "own" the theater that we used for our church made me realize just how temporary was our house of god.
Suddenly it hit me. The fact that, aside from the house, we didn't own anything, meant that each of these projects could be established totally on their own. The mission could be isolated from the church as could be the research foundation. The fact that neither the foundation or the mission were "owned" by the church, meant each could seek support from other organizations. Real control could be maintained by simply having interlocking
boards of directors.
I took out the list that Rabbi Solomon had given me, and reviewed it in light of my new goal.
Then I took out a clean sheet of paper and started my own list. Most of the people on the Rabbi's list were scholars. It was doubtful that they would, or even could, serve on the church board. Statistically, some of the people on that list would be gay, and might be willing to also serve on the Mission Board.
On still another sheet I put down the names of people who could add stature to any of our three boards. Judge Thompson would add prestige. Where could he fit? Certainly the Mission was something that he held in high esteem. His legal expertise would add prestige to the Research Foundation.
Laughingly, I added two other names: Dr. Rolph McPherson from Angelus Temple, and Dr. Jules Gros of the Los Angeles Council of Churches. In a more serious vein I added Dr. Macmillan from Cutler/Westmont College, Raymond Gregory from the Revival Ministry, and Mama.
On which of the three boards would these people be of value? It wasn't that we really expected any work from them. It was their prestige, and their stature that I wanted.
McPherson and Gros might find value in the Research Foundation. Also, Gros just might be willing to serve on the Mission Board if he felt it would add to his diversity and prestige.
It was thirty minutes before midnight. I put my work away, turned off the light, and went upstairs. The house was very quiet. Apparently everyone was still rehearsing at the church. I got undressed, showered, and went to bed. I was asleep in seconds.
The next morning I awoke cuddled up around Cowboy. It was as though the last 24 hours hadn't happened. I looked behind me expecting to see Philip, but he wasn't there.
My movements were enough to arouse my partner. He squiggled his butt back towards me. "When did you come to bed last night? How come you didn't wake me?"
He turned toward me, pulling me against his chest. His lips were almost touching mine. "You were asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake you."
I reached down, and grasped his early morning pisser. "Is that because you love me, or you gotta take a leak?"
He moved his hips further into my fist until the head was pushing into my naval. "Unfortunately both."
We laid there in each other arms. I could hear the ticking of our clock. The metronome seemed very slow. Despite our vow to be together we still hadn't done so.
"Is Philip on the couch again?"
"No, he had a date last night. The guy picked him up at the church."
"Too bad. I would have liked one of his back rubs."
"So what am I? a dead fish? I remember when you LIKED my back rubs. Turn over on you stomach."
I did as I was told. He moved over, crouched above my thighs, and began to massage the small of my back. It was instant relaxation. The feelings spread outward from his fingers, radiating a tranquility that I always found difficult to comprehend; it was so total.
His fingers moved downward, and his hands kneaded my buttocks, then moved back again to the small of my back. I groaned in subservience to his ministrations. Then his fingers worked upward along my spinal column. As they
approached my neck I felt a warm drop of something fall on my ass crack.
He reached to the top of my skull, and in doing so the warm head of his erect member rubbed across my crack. Involuntarily I groaned, and moved my hips upward. A vision of those first times by the river in Arkansas came in to my mind. "Jerry, where is our comforter?"
He lowered his head to mine. His warm breath was gently caressing my ear. "In the trunk in the closet."
Reluctantly he moved from his perch. I could hear him rummaging around in the trunk. He laid it along the left side of the bed, and gently moved me onto it before resuming his crouch above my thighs.
He laid full length on my back. His love tool was nestled along the path, sandwiched like a frankfurter waiting to be consumed. Again I moaned in an expression of pleasure and desire. He raised his hips and I could feel the warm probe expel it's natural lubricant. The angle had been changed so that as he lowered himself the shaft moved downward. My anal muscles opened in anticipation as the head met the gateway to my soul.
Jerry seemed to hesitate in anticipation, but my sphincter grabbed his organ demanding that it enter. As a declaration of great desire my body met his and pulled him fully into me. In a single movement the head had passed over my prostate.
The total sensation from the affectionate placement of my lovers face against my neck, down along the contact of his muscled chest, stomach, and abdomen, to the depth of his penis within my bowels was one of total and complete merging of body, mind, and soul. I moved my hips upward, trying to absorb him totally within me. Then followed the cotillion of love. His long shaft withdrew slightly, then slid back to it's full depth. "I love you," I moaned.
His tongue entered my ear in response. The tip seemed to push a button connected directly to my heart. I had to absorb him completely. We could not remain as two separate bodies.
In response to that demand we both drove ourselves together, attempting to force the melding like hammer and anvil. I simply could not get enough of his body, of his love, of him!
My body was generating tremendous amounts of juice in reaction. I felt like I must release or I would explode. Yet I wanted to prolong the incredible sensations that this amalgamation was creating.
The gentle thrusting had expanded to gigantic drives of pistoning shaft and cylinder, and all too soon the valves opened in an explosive release of essence, energy, and power.
Our comforter was absorbing the cum that had forced its way out of my throbbing dick, as Jerry's shaft continued to pump his seed deeply into my body.
I wanted to sink my tongue into his mouth, but I did not want to have him withdraw from my body.
My heart was full of love.
We laid there, still in contact from the back of my neck to the ends of our toes. The passion was being replaced with relaxation as our bodies began the recovery process. Both of our members, having performed their role, rested. Yet neither of us wanted our overdue indulgence to come to an end. Sex was done, love had just been rekindled.
Slowly we left the paradise of joining, and went to the shower where we lovingly bathed our better half's.
"What a beautiful day. What a great day. What a wonderful place to be." I practically yelled in Cowboy's ear as I toweled myself off.
Jerry was already out of the bathroom, laying out my white suit. "You want to eat breakfast here or at IHOP?"
"I'd rather eat at IHOP if we have time."
Time was short, but we decided to gamble on a short line.
As we drove into the parking lot it was obvious that we had lost the bet. Nevertheless, we parked and went inside to see just how long it might be. The guy taking names at the door was someone I had seen in our congregation. Jerry knew him by name. It still would be at least a half hour.
We skipped breakfast and went directly to the church.
Ho and Sunshine were already there, turning on lights, posting the singles and doubles signs, making ready for our services.
A few people were already there. I took particular note of two boys huddled together on the far side, they looked to me to be very young; somewhere between 11 and 14.
Ho came over telling us the boys had been sleeping just outside the front door when he and Sunshine had arrived.
I gave Sunshine some money and asked him to drive over to Safeway and buy some coffee cake and a jar of instant Java.
One of the boys was watching me with the same alertness that a mother lion watches nearby threats to her cubs. I moved towards them. Both now had become alert as though they were going to run.
I pointed towards the door Sunshine had just gone through. "I sent Sunshine to the store to get some Coffee and Donuts. I haven't had breakfast yet. You guy's want to join us."
They nodded their heads, but still did not speak. I looked closer at the two. They looked alike; they could be twins, and certainly were at least brothers.
"When does the movie start?" The voice was squeaky, and frightened. The tone of the voice sent a silent message that they would leave since they had no money.
Cowboy smiled at them. His attire was less intimidating than that of The man in the white suit. "Don't worry guys, this is a church not a movie theater."
It was the wrong thing to say. The boys leapt to their feet and sprinted for the door. Ho caught one of them as they attempted to flee. The other boy came to a stop looking back at his sibling being held by Ho. "Please mister don't turn us in."
Ho had pulled the boy into his arms, holding him in an affectionate embrace, trying to calm him. The other looked at his brother and realized that they were in no danger. He moved back towards his brother. His brown eyes were wide in wonder.
"How long you kids been on the run?" Ho asked the question like he was an older brother. "And don't worry we ain't gonna turn you in. I wasn't much older than you when I first ran away and came to this town."
The brothers had warmed to Ho, but still kept an anxious eye on me.
I drew Ho aside and suggested that he seat the boys in the wings just behind the piano. I was concerned that they might take off if something spooked them.
Peter came on stage as I moved over to the podium, organizing my notes. He was connecting a cable to the microphone in front of me. "Who are the little kids." He nodded towards the frightened boys.
"I don't know yet. Sunshine found them sleeping outside the door. One thing for certain, they are on the run."
He leaned into the microphone, "Test. One, two, three Test." The on the air light flickered on and off acknowledging the test.
People were still coming into the theater. I glanced back at the piano. Jackie was sitting at the piano chatting with the boys. I looked toward the entrance and saw Robbie enter; surprisingly with his dad in tow. However, Sid sat in the first seat on the back row, and Robbie joined the others at the piano. I noticed Philip sitting in the second row of the singles. He had two companions, both substantially older. The man on his left was dressed in a suit and tie. His hair was short and well groomed. Both his bearing and his apparel suggested that he was a professional man of some type; doctor, dentist, maybe even a lawyer. The fellow on Philip's right was a striking contrast. While obviously affluent, he wore slacks, and a polo shirt. His hair was shoulder length and well groomed. If I were to pick a label I would call the one on the right a playboy/sportsman, while the one of the left would be a typical successful professional. Something else became obvious; they were both enamored of Phil. They did not appear to be a party of three. It just seemed they both had a date with the same boy.
I gave a five minute warning signal to Todd in the control room, then walked over to the piano. Robbie was seated next to the boys talking. An expression of warmth and affection spread across the faces of all three. A bonding was taking place.
I turned toward Jackie. "I've got a lot to say this morning, but I don't think it's going to take much time. What do you have planned for music."
Robbie was the one to answer, "We worked all day yesterday on a really good concert, so we're prepared to fill all the time you don't use."
"OK, then let's do it." I returned to the podium and waited for the "on the air" light to go on.
"Friends last Sunday I was arrested by the Hollywood Police Department as I exited this building, and charged with several crimes I did not commit. I spent Sunday afternoon and evening being whisked from jail to jail so that no one could find and help me. Eventually I was arraigned on Monday morning. When my accusers were faced with proving their indictment and were unable to do so, I was released."
"But I'll tell you something.. I have only myself to blame."
"While it is true that the action was triggered by complaints from Dr. Jules Gros of the Los Angeles Council of Churches, it is also true that it was my inattention to image that had brought this down upon my own head."
"At the beginning of our voyage of discovery I had said that we must discard all books of knowledge. Not forever, but for the moment. When we consider the writings of others, we will approach them with disbelief. We will consider who wrote them and why. We will consider what tests have been applied to prove the validity of the concepts, but we will NEVER accept their validity as an act of faith."
"I let that statement lay on the alter of public opinion and as statements are likely to do time eroded them away till many believed that I had said the Bible was false. I did not say that, nor do I believe that."
"So first, I want to apologize to Dr. Gros and all others for not being more aware of what others considered as my beliefs. Further, I want everyone to know that I am taking steps to rectify these mis-conceptions."
"In our work over the past several years, we have developed three separate goals. These are needs which must be fulfilled: The Church, the work of discovery, and the work we are doing amongst the youngsters of our streets."
"Like Moses on the mountain, I too found a hill to look out upon the land. I too heard the word of God that has focused my attention on our deficiencies."
"Todays broadcast will be, at least for the moment, our last. And I want to express my appreciation for the opportunity to reach beyond these walls given to us by KPFK. They faced criticism and threats, and they were not swayed. The reason for this decision is my inability to concentrate in the small amount of air time the astounding quantity of philosophical discoveries
we have made."
"Our teen mission should not be connected, or limited by religious philosophies. The mission has merit on it's own. It should be influenced only
by need, not by political or religious goals."
"The work we have done in discovery needs to be documented like the Book of Mormon. But our book must do more, go further, be more universal. It should not support one doctrine, it should support them all. It is inconceivable to me that we are the first humans to discover what we have. It is paramount that we research the records left by others over the span of human life on earth in an attempt to correlate our findings with those of our ancestors. The horizon of this work is beyond my own comprehension. On the tip of this iceberg is the fact that it must involve all of the earths resources, and that means scholars, historians, paleographist, writers, and lawyers. It will be established as a none sectarian foundation of study."
"These three projects will become three separate organizations. For the moment I have asked Robbie Cohen to coordinate the formation of the foundation for historical religious studies. Peter Hay, and Danny will bear the initial burden of the mission. Charlie Rogers who most of you know as Sunshine will become the assistant pastor of this church. Jerry, Jackie, and I will assume the burden of helping all three organizations where we can."
I reached into my attache case and pulled out two large boxes of pencils, and two reams of typing paper. "Charlie, I want you to pass these among our people." He and Danny proceeded to do as I had asked.
"These three organization have no assets at the moment, and that means they have no permanent way to exist or to achieve their goals. I want each person to take one sheet of paper and write the following across the top. One, Church. Two, Mission. Three, Research. And you folks out in radio land, you do the same thing."
"Now we need contributions. It doesn't have to be money, it can be ANYTHING you want to give. If all you have is time, then time is what we can use. If all you have is clothes you were going to throw away, then throw them our way. Write down on the sheet of paper what you want to contribute, and which of the three groups you are contributing to. Also, write your name, address and phone number. And finally, write the name and address of anyone you are willing to talk to about joining our efforts. However we will not contact them. We will wait for them to contact us."
"When you have finished writing, pass the sheets along to the center end of each row. And friends in radio land mail your sheets to 932 N. Stanley, Hollywood 90046. If you have any questions please telephone me at my home 654-9432."
"Since we have nothing, we need everything: Office equipment, paper, clothes. We need a home for the Mission, and we need a center for the research foundation. Please, Please, anything you can spare. These are all good causes, they deserve your support. Give until it hurts, it will make you feel more worthwhile than you ever have felt before."
I stepped back from the podium. I heard a single clear voice sing out "I believe in miracles. I've seen a soul set free, Miraculous the change in one redeemed through Calvary."
I took the next phrase, "I've seen the lily push its way up through the stubborn sod." I motioned for Jerry to join me.
As he walked toward me, our voices joined, "I believe in miracles for I believe in God!".
I whispered in his ear. "Remember when we first sang that?"
"Sure do, that's when I first knew we were gonna be partners for life."
The others, under Jackie's guidance sang the first verse ended on Middle C and then segued into "He's got the whole world in his hands."
The piano beat a pounding 4/4 rhythm. A pattern of C, A, F, B flat, G and C.
The words were just as repetitive: "He's got the whole world in his hands, He's got the whole world in his hand, He's got the whole world in his hand, He's got the whole world in his hand,"
"He's got the wind and the rain in his hand, He's got the wind and the rain in his hand, He's got the wind and the rain in his hand, He's got the whole world in his hand."
"He's got the sinner man in his hand, He's got the sinner man in his hand, He's got the sinner man in his hand, He's got the whole world in his hand."
"He's got you and me in his hand, He's got you and me in his hand, He's got you and me in his hand, He's got the whole world in his hand."
My foot began to tap to the rhythm. I could feel it expand beyond my body interlocking with Jerry. Then in harmony it linked with the pounding beat of the piano and the voices as they sang these simple words.
I put my arm around Jerry's waist as our bodies swayed with the song.
Our congregation must have been listening attentively to our call for contributions, because they merged with the building resonance.
The entire melody was contained within a single octave, yet it added luster to the cadence.
There was a slight change in beat. The melody narrowed to just 3 notes, G, A, and D. I could hear David's voice, "Kum ba yah, my Lord, Kum ba ya!" The beat was reminiscent of an ancient African chant. It was pervasive. I could see the rhythm being repeated within the audience.
Jerry and I moved towards the front of the stage, signaling the others to stand up.
"Hmmm, cryin, Lord. Kum ba yah!"
The energy was being carried by the melody. C, C, C, then G, G, G, G. Over and over again. The simple lyrics carried resonant building energy more than a verbal message.
Suddenly three forms flashed by me as Peter, Robbie, and David leapt from the stage into the aisles.
"O LORD, thou art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. I cried unto the LORD with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. I laid me down and slept; I awaked; "
Their bodies gave visual testimony to the total merging of energy that was taking place. Each of the boys stood, legs bent, leaning back, microphone in hand projecting towards the ceiling.
"I will not be afraid of ten thousand people, that have set themselves against me round about."
Robbie Cohen was half way down the center aisle. The crowd was being mesmerized by the performance. He turned toward a tall gaunt man sitting in the singles section. His finger flashed towards the man as his voice rang out:
"Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God: for unto thee will I pray. My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O LORD; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up."
Their eyes were locked. Robbie's finger touched the man's forehead, and he slumped down into his seat. "The Thing" was happening, and I wasn't doing it.
As though it were a response to that releasing of energy, the congregation sang:
"I will not be afraid of ten thousand people, that have set themselves against me round about."
But still Robbie was moving further toward the back of the auditorium.
In yet another burst of energy he spun towards the a member of the audience. His finger hurled energy towards the next person as his voice broadcast his message:
"For thou art not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness: neither shall evil dwell with thee. The foolish shall not stand in thy sight: thou hatest all workers of iniquity."
His eyes now focused on the face his finger was reaching for, and as his finger touched the forehead, and an explosive charge of energy shot between the two, he suddenly realized that it was his father who now slumped into his seat.
And the audience again sang, "I will not be afraid of ten thousand people, that have set themselves against me round about."
Again a subtle change in rhythm, and the melody expanded. The voices carried an old familiar hymn.
"It was good for the Prophet Daniel, It was good for the Prophet Daniel. It was good for the Prophet Daniel, and it's good enough for me."
"Give me that old time religion. Give me that Old time Religion. Give me that Old Time Religion, and it's good enough for me."
My attention was still at the back of the auditorium. Sid Cohen was still seated. The expression on his face was one of shock and amazement.
Robbie had quickly moved back toward the stage. The surprise of his contact with his father had broken his stride, the resonant energy had almost instantly dissipated.
However, the beat was quickly picked up by Peter, "It was good for Paul and Silas, It was good for Paul and Silas, It was good for Paul and Silas, and it's good enough for me."
"Give me that old time religion. Give me that Old time Religion. Give me that Old Time Religion, and it's good enough for me."
We were now coming down off of the high. Jerry and I took over the last verse:
"It was good for old Abe Lincoln, It was good for old Abe Lincoln, It was good for old Abe Lincoln, and it's good enough for me."
"Give me that old time religion. Give me that Old time Religion. Give me that Old Time Religion, and it's good enough for me."
I glanced over at Jackie wondering if he was going to let it die, or what. Beyond the piano I could see the faces of our two small visitors, their eyes and mouths were open in awe of what they were witnessing.
Robbie was visibly shaken by his experience. He sat next to the two boys who reacted like he was a movie star.
I joined the others by the piano as our congregation was exiting the building. Sunshine and Danny came over carrying the contribution pledges. "What should we do with these?"
A thousand sheets of paper packed in two reams doesn't take up a lot of room. A thousand sheets of paper which had been handled and written upon became an overflowing mess. "You'd better see if you can find a box for those, then put them in the back of the MG."
Sid had come back stage, with an odd expression on his face. "Robbie, let's have lunch."
The two boys looked up at the large man towering above them. You could see a cloud of fear form over their faces. Sid must have sensed their apprehension. "Dad, can I bring my two friends?"
It was obvious that Sid wanted to talk privately with his son, but said, "Sure thing. But I have something I need to talk to you about. Will you be home tonight?"
I had been wondering what to do about the boys. I couldn't just leave them on the streets. On the other hand I felt the environment of our home was too adult for the youngsters. Their going to lunch with Sid would postpone my need to do anything.
Danny wanted to ride home with Jerry and I. As we climbed into the tiny MG, Robbie's Healey went by, top down, Sid in the passenger seat the two dirty, smelly, tots sitting on his lap.
On the way home Danny told us what he had learned about the two boys. They had lived with their mother in Las Vegas. They never knew who their father was. Their mother was probably a hooker. At the end of summer they had arrived in Las Vegas from Chicago. The family had been looking for a place to live and had run out of money. It was about nine o'clock at night when they were sitting at a bus stop on Boulder Highway. A car had pulled up in front of them. The driver pointed to the kids and asked the mother if they were her's. She said, no. The driver talked a little more, then their mother had got into the car. Before doing so she whispered to them to stay put till she returned.
They spent the entire night sitting at the bus stop. If they saw a police car, or a bus, they would hide behind the bus stop. It was 7:30 in the morning when their mother got off of a bus. She now had a few dollars.
She had seen a sign advertising a $1.00 breakfast special at the Nevada Palace which was just a few blocks away. After having fed the boys, they proceeded to try and find a place to live.
They walked through a trailer park and saw a "For Rent" sign on a trailer. She knocked on the door. There was no one there. It was not locked so she took down the sign, and they moved in.
She was gone most of the time, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. They were alone and hungry early on a Monday morning. They saw other children
with school books in their arms going to a bus stop. They followed, and boarded the bus, figuring they might get free food at the school.
The boys did not talk to the other children but did go into class rooms. They sat in the back and were careful about not drawing attention to themselves. At lunch time they followed the other children and stood in line at the cafeteria. When it was their turn someone asked for their "Meal Card".
They said they couldn't find it. They stood aside with hungry eyes. An older girl seeing their distress loaned them her card. So one of them went through the line. Then they hungerly shared the meal.
After school they again got on the bus and returned to the trailer. The next day they did the same thing.
The boy's became known in the classroom. They were good students, and were liked by the teachers. Two children were moving to another school, so the boy's inherited their meal cards.
Last Friday, then had returned to the trailer and found the "For Rent" sign back on the trailer, and a padlock on the door. They hadn't seen their mother in several days.
That night they slept in one of the trailer park shower rooms. Saturday morning they were in the playground. They saw a police car drive up to their trailer. A uniformed officer and a fat black woman went to the door, saw that it was padlocked, then knocked on a neighboring door. The woman who answered looked out of the door, and pointed in the direction of the play ground. As soon as no one was looking the two boys jumped over the fence and ran across Boulder Highway. They kept running down alley ways and side streets. Hours later they felt safer, and slowed down. But every time they saw a police car they hid in fear. It was after sunset. They were hiding behind a McDonald's dumpster. Foraging through the garbage, they found uneaten sandwiches which they hungerally devoured. They were discovered
by an employee and promptly took off again. They were walking down Main street and saw a Greyhound Bus station.
They went inside and sat quietly, partly to avoid discovery, and partly to plan what to do next. They watched the buses come and go for destinations like Salt Lake City, Phoenix, Los Angeles, and San Francisco.
The boys had heard that San Francisco was a haven for runaways. So their thought's went in that direction. It wasn't that they were runaways. No body was looking for them, except maybe the welfare people.
As they sat there they saw how the buses loaded. Luggage was stowed under the bus, and seemed to be segregated by destination. A bus for San Francisco had just left before they had decided what to do. The schedule said the next one wasn't until noon the next day.
The hour was getting late. Almost 10PM. They decided they would try to hide in the luggage compartment on the bus going to Los Angeles. An old man came and sat next to them. They noticed a luggage tag that said "Hollywood".
When the Los Angeles bus was called for loading the boys hid behind the bus and noticed where the mans suit case was put. The bus was loaded, and the driver went inside the bus station. The boys scampered into the luggage compartment, squeezing down behind a trunk. The driver slammed the door closed. Now in pitch darkness they had clung to each other as the bus headed towards Los Angeles.
Hour's later they heard the bus come to a stop. "San Bernardino" was what they thought they had heard. Their compartment door was opened for a moment while several more suitcases were loaded. Again the door was closed, and the bus continued for another hour before again coming to a stop. This time they heard the driver announce. "Los Angeles. Next stop Hollywood."
The bus sat in the Los Angeles Bus Station for a long time. Again, their door was opened and two more bags added.
They had no idea how long it would take to get to Hollywood. It was cold. It was very late at night. They were frightened, and didn't know what might happen to them next.
The bus was back on the road. It seemed like a short time when they felt the bus pull into another bus station and come to a stop. The driver announced "Hollywood."
The two boys shoved their way to the compartment door. As the driver lifted the door the two sprang out and raced across the parking lot towards the darkness.
The driver had been so startled by his stowaways that they were off and away before he even realized that he should do anything.
Again the boys were on the run. They did not know the driver had done nothing
about his discovery. They ran down alleys and side streets staying in the shadows, avoiding being seen.
Barking dogs added to their fear as they headed west, and then south. It was just before sun rise when they spotted an old movie theater. There were no posters advertising films, so they figured it was a safe spot to rest awhile before going on to San Francisco. And of course it was there that Sunshine and Ho had discovered the lads. They were twins, their names were Timmy and Tommy, they had no one.
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